University of Virginia Library

20. CHAPTER XX.
A REFORM MEETING, AND WALTER'S SPEECH—BLORE'S ESCAPE FROM
HIS WIFE.

The court-house was illuminated with gas and filled with people.
The poor had been brought thither by the friends of
Roland, and the rich had come for the purpose of hearing the
son of their late friend, Mr. Winkle, who had been their respected
representative in Congress.

Roland, at the conclusion of his speech, remarked that he
had understood he was to be followed and replied to by his
youthful friend, who volunteered to address the people in behalf
of Mr. Plastic, his opponent. He requested that he
might have a patient hearing, if for no other reason, as a mark
of respect for the memory of his father, who had served his
country well. But, at the same time, it should be remembered

that his lamented father had never been known to interpose
any obstacles to the wholesome reforms demanded by his constituents;
and there could be no doubt, if he were still alive,
and present on that occasion, he would be found on the side of
the people, and in opposition to his own son.

Walter rose up with a composed countenance, and thanked
his more experienced friend for his handsome introduction of
the son of his father; and the first sentence, uttered with a
peculiar sort of gravity, produced a burst of laughter, which
was not at all relished by Roland.

“Fellow-citizens,” continued Walter, “I have listened, as
you did, in silence and astonishment to the intimation of the
speaker, that the son of my father was inimical to wholesome
reforms. I deny it!” Great applause followed his denial.
“On the opium question, I am prepared to denounce all who
indulge in the excessive use of the drug. And as our courts
have decided that the legislature have the power to prohibit
its use as a mere stimulant, without the prescription of a physician,
I have not one word to utter in opposition to such a
law, although I cannot see precisely how my friend can serve
his prohibitory friends in Congress, further than to pledge
himself to abstain from the use of the narcotic poison during
his abode in the federal city.”

“Sir!” exclaimed Roland, “I do not use the drug at
all.”

“Neither does the son of my father,” said Walter, amidst
much laughter from the rich side of his audience. “I am
prepared to denounce it. Its evils are monstrous and incalculable;
and I am informed by a friend on my left, a gentleman
whose name is not unknown to American or English admirers
of genius—”

“Especially the English,” said Pollen; “a prophet is not
without honor, save in his own country.”

“True. I am informed, I say, that some of the brightest
intellects that have illuminated the world by their works, have
been prematurely darkened, and ultimately destroyed, by the
pernicious stimulant. Such was the case with Coleridge and
De Quincey—men, whose names can never die. To such an
extent did Coleridge indulge, that the cost of the drug consumed
by him amounted to seven hundred dollars annually!”

“Huzza!” cried the zealous prohibitionists; “he is not

against us! Roland was mistaken!” Roland in truth was
puzzled.

“Against you?” continued Walter—“No! So far from
it, I am for reforming or abolishing every evil which afflicts
our race. And if the law can reach one of them, I contend
it may be applied to all.”

“Certainly!” cried the zealous prohibitionists.

“Well, then; I hold in my hand a statement made by
some of our most eminent medical professors, declaring that
the wearing of thin shoes causes more diseases and death,
than the use of opium.”

“Prohibit them!” cried a great many.

“And, next to thin-soled shoes, the abominable practice
of tight-lacing produces thousands of fatal cases of consumption.”

“Abolish it! Make it unlawful for the women to be
squeezed by any thing else than our arms!” cried the multitude.

“Such a law would, at least,” said Walter, “be constitutional.”

“Good!” said Pollen, amid hearty laughter.

“But if we have the power to prohibit such evils as I have
enumerated, surely we possess the authority to reform the
whole catalogue. Have we not?”

“Yes,” was the almost unanimous response.

“Well, then, I will tell you what is the greatest evil suffered
by man. It causes honest hearts to break, widows and
helpless children to languish in hopeless misery; the good
man to weep; the philosopher to complain; the poet to shiver;
the watch-dog to howl—”

“What is it? Down with it!” cried many.

“It robs the virgin of her only priceless jewel; the noblest
citizen of his honor; the honest laborer of his rest—”

“What the d—l is it?” cried a hundred shoemakers, and
as many laborers on the railroad.

“It causes men to steal, to murder, to commit suicide, and
finally ingulfs them in eternal perdition. It is POVERTY!”

“Down with it! down with it!” cried all but the rich,
who were silent.

“This parent of evils,” continued Walter, “may be removed
as well as the rest, and on the same principle. I propose,
therefore, that the organization of Reformers append to

their catalogue of measures the following resolutions. First:
After the expiration of twelve months, it shall not be lawful
for any man to possess over half a million of dollars, and the
overplus shall go into the public treasury to educate, feed, and
clothe the poor.”

This was rapturously applauded by all but two or three,
who frowned indignantly.

“Second,” continued Walter—“At the end of the second
year, no individual shall possess over one hundred thousand
dollars—the surplus to be applied as aforesaid.”

This likewise was approved by nearly all present.

“At the end of the third year, no person shall have over
ten thousand dollars.”

A vast majority sanctioned this, and Walter was hailed as
the greatest of all reformers.

“At the end of the fourth, no one shall possess more than
one thousand dollars; but those who have contributed to the
treasury, shall be permitted to draw upon it for the amount
of their expenses, of whatever kind, incident to an economical
and wholesome system of living.”

“Huzza!” cried a majority, but not more than a majority;
while the rest manifested their disapprobation by hisses.

“After that,” continued Walter, “no man shall possess
over five hundred dollars—”

Here his voice was lost in the storm of hisses and groans
that issued from all parts of the house; the opponents of any
further reform being evidently in the majority.

“That's going a little too far,” said a carpenter. “We,
who go with our sleeves rolled up, have, many of us, more
than that sum already, and we expect to increase it.”

“No, my friends,” said Walter with sudden impetuosity,
“let us not stop short of a thorough reform. Let us eradicate
the evils which have cursed every community in almost
every age and country. Let us be Christians in reality; let
us abolish individual titles—let us give up all into a common
treasury, and live in social equality, like a vast harmonious
family, and be henceforth truly brothers!”

“That's d—d nonsense!” said the carpenter, the shoemakers,
and the railroad laborers. “He would have us mess
with the niggers!” The quakers fled away disgusted. In
short, the condemnation of the resolutions was nearly unanimous.

“Be patient, fellow-citizens,” cried Walter, with earnest
enthusiasm, “until you have heard me through. I rejoice in
the manifestations I have witnessed—”

“We have condemned you,” said a voice.

“No, sir; it was announced that my speech was to be in
opposition to the extravagant projects of the fanatical reformers;
and I think it has not been without its effect!”

“Listen!” shouted the people. “He was not in earnest!
He is not in favor of any such nonsense!”

“No, fellow-citizens, I am not in favor of any such mad
schemes of reform. If all were equal in wealth and influence
to-day, it would not be so to-morrow. God made men with
unequal powers, as the mountains and trees are of unequal
dimensions. And he who attempts to extirpate evil from
the world, must become greater than the one who permitted
it to exist, before he can expect to achieve success. Let our
preachers and moral teachers denounce the vices they would
suppress, and persuade such men as they can, to abandon
them, for their own good, here and hereafter, as a matter of
conviction and duty: but let them beware, that they do not
erect an inquisition which will torture themselves! Human
laws cannot prevent men from destroying themselves, and
going to hell, if they see proper. Like the Jacobins of
France, the silly reformers in our country, if they possessed
the power, would, after destroying the fabric of liberty, and
overthrowing the foundations of society, prey upon themselves.
The same principle which would prevent a man from keeping
opium in his house, would prohibit a rich man from possessing
over a million of dollars, and a poor one from having more
than fifty.”

“It's all a humbug, I believe!” said the carpenter.

“It is worse than that!” said Walter. “For some of
our preachers are becoming politicians, while the devil is
driving away their flocks. Reform lectures are delivered by
the lazy itinerants, who levy contributions; and books are
published in the name of piety, and a pure morality, for a
certain profit in money. The designing authors are patronized
by the preachers, as moral teachers and laborers
in a holy cause! thus making merchandise of religion, and
presumptuously using the name of their Maker in vain! Hypocrites!
who wear a mask of godliness for the purpose of
making money!”

Colonel Oakdale, at the conclusion of Walter's speech, ran
to him, and folded him in his arms. Great enthusiasm pervaded
the entire assembly, and Roland was hooted out as a
demagogue.

Walter, Pollen, and even Snobson, who turned pale and
begged in vain to be excused, were carried amid shouts of
applause on the shoulders of the people to the widow Winkle's
mansion.

Old Mr. Dowly, who had been at the court-house, and
heard every thing, had preceded the uproarious crowd to the
widow's, and prepared her for their reception; and when the
young gentlemen descended from the shoulders of their supporters,
they were smilingly met by the happy American matron.

“Walter, my son,” said she, after the echoes of the last
round of cheers had died away, “I fear you have damaged the
prospects of the reformers, and made Mr. Roland your enemy
for life.”

“ `Be just and fear not,' you know, mother. But I considered
him my enemy before.”

“Why so?” asked both the widow and old John Dowly.

“Because he has been endeavoring to supplant me at the
Colonel's,” said Walter, in a low tone. “I did hope George
Parke would be there to watch him. But he is in the city with
Julia Nitre.”

It was warm, and as the party sat before the open windows,
they were startled, from time to time, by the voice of Lowe's
housekeeper, who seemed to be searching for some one in the
street, although the darkness was intense.

“Hit his hutterly himpossible for you to hezcape me!
Whare hare you? You needn't try to ide! I know hevery
air hof your ead! Stand still, I say, hor I'll skin you alive
when I catch you. Why don't you speak, hand let me know
where you hare?”

“That is poor old Mrs. Edwards,” said Mrs. Winkle.
“Who can she be playing hide-and-seek with?”

Walter, who had discerned a singular thumping on the
hard ground, and along the fence, during the speech of Mrs.
Edwards, began to suspect who it was the pertinacious woman
was pursuing. And sure enough, the next moment the head
of Sergeant Blore was lifted slowly above the sill of the window,
and within a few inches of him.

“It's me. Don't give the alarm,” whispered Blore.
“She's in chase of me, and if I'm taken, she'll show me no
quarter. I was afraid to ring. Here she comes! Help me
in!” The window was low, and by dint of much struggling,
and with the assistance of Walter, the old war-worn veteran
succeeded in making a lodgment in the parlor.

“I must take my leave, now,” said Snobson. “I hear the
cars. Good evening, Mrs. Winkle. I did hope to have the
pleasure of being entertained by Miss Lucy, and I am sorry
she is away on a visit. Please give my respects to her when
she comes home. Father says if the Arums had only the
standing of the Winkles—but no matter—good night.”

“He's an irreclaimable puppy!” said Pollen, as Snobson
withdrew hastily. “He talk of being entertained, and about
the high circles! Why, I have heard his grandfather was a
porter on the wharf, and rolled about the sugar hogsheads in
his shirt-sleeves.”

“I received your letter, sergeant,” said Walter, “and
must apologize for not answering it. But you know I had to
prepare my speech.”

“I know—I know; and a famous good one it was. You
gave the Jacobins a first-rate lashing.”

“Sergeant,” said Pollen, “how is it that you are a
Frenchman in every thing but your nativity? Are you an
American, or an Englishman?”

“An American, sir. My father was a sea-captain, and
accompanied Napoleon to Egypt. I was with him, and ran
away to follow the fortunes of the great general. I was hid
two days in the pyramids, sir.”

“That is a solution of the mystery. And I am told you
were among the sufferers at Waterloo.”

“I lost some of my limbs there, sir; but I always thought
I had been extremely lucky, sir, by my losses there, until
lately.”

“The sergeant,” said Mrs. Winkle, “thought he had lost
Mrs. Blore in that engagement.”

“I curse my evil stars,” said Blore, “that she escaped.
She is Hinglish, sir, as you might have known, if you had
been listening a while ago.”

“Oh, it was her I heard in the street?”

“Where's my usband? His he hat your ouse, Mrs. Winkie?”

asked Mrs. Edwards, standing out in the middle of the
street.

“Hist! Don't betray me, madam!” said the sergeant.

“Which one of your husbands, Mrs. Edwards?” asked
Walter.

“My first usband.”

“If your first husband be living,” continued Walter, “I
would advise you not to confess it. You may be liable to
prosecution for bigamy, and you know the penalty.”

This was succeeded by a long silence, and no doubt the
old woman had retreated in alarm.

“Thank you, Walter!” said Blore. “I won't forget this
good service. A discharge from your battery has effectually
repulsed her. But I want to tell you the condition of the
siege at your uncle's.”

“What is the matter there, sergeant?” asked Mrs. Winkle.
“You need not hesitate to speak—all here are my
brother's friends.”

“Why, you see, madam, we were making preparations to
have the battle of Waterloo over again, when she—I mean
the commander's spouse—countermanded it, and would not
consent to the engagement, unless the general would first
make his will. That was no unreasonable thing in itself, and
he was perfectly willing to, if it could be done without giving
her cause of offence. You know, madam, he never gives
offence to any one, and especially to the ladies. And somehow
or other his diplomatic wife has wheedled him most
amazingly, so that he cannot resist her will. And when her
will was made known, there was nothing for it but to embrace
it in his will, although he said, and every one knew it before,
that he loved Walter as his own son and heir. So I got Bawson,
the Scotch lawyer, to join the conference, and propose a
compromise, or modification of the articles, so that Walter
should not be left out entirely.”

“Very kind of you, sergeant,” said Mrs. Winkle. “And
what did Bawson suggest?”

“That, in the event of the commander's death, all the personal
estate, of whatever kind, should go to Walter, and the
real estate to his spouse.”

“That was a Scotch stratagem!” said Mrs. Winkle.
“For I suppose he knew, that in the event of my brother's

decease, without children of his own, the real estate, by virtue
of Mr. Winkle's father's will, must descend to my children.”

“And so,” continued the sergeant, in great glee, “the
catamount would be cut out altogether! Yes, Bawson knew
it—but the smart woman don't know any more about such
matters than one of Bill Dizzle's frogs.”

“I will not be a party to any such deception,” said Walter.
“If he were to execute such a will, and there should be
an heir afterwards, it would be a fraud to possess the estate.”

“You are the soul of honor, Walter!” said the sergeant.
“But you know that woman stormed the garrison to get at the
military chest—and she has no just title to any part of the
treasures. You needn't have any thing to do with it, though.
Only be silent. She keeps the will locked up, and I think as
soon as it is signed and witnessed, she'll not care a bayonet
how quick your uncle is killed. He knows all about the matter
of the reversion, and is delighted at the idea of cheating
the stinging witch. I believe he would be willing to die, just
to witness her disappointment, if he could be certain he would
have the power of seeing it.”

“What, has he caught a Tartar?” asked Pollen.

“I believe he has,” said Mrs. Winkle.

“Believe? Gad, he knows it!” said Blore. “She
don't scold him, as my wife did me—and of course she don't
strike him; but there is such a terror in her frown, such a
misery in her cold looks, that he would submit to any thing
rather than offend her. By some infernal spell or other, she
has conquered him! If she but cracks her finger, he runs up
to her like a cowed spaniel—if she puckers up her thin lips,
he will abandon any resolve. Oh, it is a monstrous tyranny!”

“She must possess some supernatural power,” said Pollen.

“She has the devil at her beck, sir!” said Blore. “Even
the chickens, the bull, and the bull-dog, run away from her.”

“No wonder, then,” said Walter, “my poor uncle is obedient!
But is it not strange, sergeant, that any brave man
should be so craven as to submit to the constraint of a mere
woman?”

“It is so!”

“Then why do you fear Mrs. Edwards, or Mrs. Blore, as
she now may be called?”

“She's a h—llcat! She's not a woman—nor is your uncle's

spouse a mere woman! Lord bless you! wait till you are
lashed to an ill-natured, keen-sighted, iron-nerved—”

“Oh, I shall profit by your example, sergeant, and keep
out of their clutches.”

“Do. But shall your uncle sign?”

“He must do as he pleases. I shall be content.”

“Very well. That's all he wished me to ascertain. And
when the preparations are completed, he desires you to witness
the Waterloo field of battle. He means to show how the
battle might have been won; and he'll want your assistance,
and your friend will be welcome, too. Good night. I will
scale the rear wall.”

But the sergeant was commanded by the widow to remain,
deeming it out of the question for him to attempt to return on
so dark a night. He consented to remain till the first dawn
of light in the morning, hoping to escape the vigilant eyes of
his watchful enemy.

Walter and Pollen, the latter expressing a desire to visit
Napoleon Winkle's country mansion, proposed to return with him
in the morning as an escort. This assured the sergeant of his
safety, and he expressed his gratitude in the language of earnestness.
And after receiving the assurance of Mrs. Winkle,
that it would be quite impossible for his dreaded wife to molest
him in his new quarters, he retired to the chamber in the
attic, which had been allotted him.

But he had not been long absent, before he rushed down
stairs again, as fast as his wooden leg would permit, declaring
that his wife, or some other infernal woman was in his room.
Mrs. Winkle laughed heartily at the sergeant's narration of
what he had seen by the light of the newly risen moon. She
assured him it was only one of Biddy's gowns, hanging near
the bed. It was removed; and then the sergeant closed his
eyes with a sense of security.