University of Virginia Library

65. CHAPTER LXV.
THE WILL OF THE PEOPLE.

General Belch's office was in the lower part of Nassau
Street. At the outer door there was a modest slip of a tin
sign, “Arcularius Belch, Attorney and Counselor.” The room
itself was dingy and forlorn. There was no carpet on the
floor; the windows were very dirty, and slats were broken out
of the blinds—the chairs did not match—there was a wooden
book-case, with a few fat law-books lounging upon the shelves;
the table was a chaos of pamphlets, printed forms, newspapers,
and files of letters, with a huge inkstand, inky pens, and a
great wooden sand-box. Upon each side of the chimney, the
grate in which was piled with crushed pieces of waste paper,
and the bars of which were discolored with tobacco juice,
stood two large spittoons, the only unsoiled articles in the
office.

This was the place in which General Belch did business. It
had the atmosphere of Law. But, above all, it was the spot
where, with one leg swinging over the edge of the table and
one hand waving in earnest gesticulation, General Belch could
say to every body who came, and especially to his poorer fellow-citizens,
“I ask no office; I am content with my moderate

practice. It is enough for me, in this glorious country, to be
a friend of the people.”

As he said this—or only implied it in saying something else
—the broken slats, the dirty windows, the uncarpeted floor,
the universal untidiness, whispered in the mind of the hearer,
“Amen!”

His residence, however, somewhat atoned for the discomfort
of his office. Not unfrequently he entertained his friends
sumptuously; and whenever any of the representatives of his
party, who acted in Congress as his private agents, had succeeded—as
on one occasion, already commemorated, the Hon.
Mr. Ele had—in putting a finer edge upon a favorite axe, General
Belch entertained a select circle who agreed with him in
his political philosophy, and were particular friends of the people
and of the popular institutions of their country.

Abel Newt, in response to the General's note, had already
called at that gentleman's office, and had received overtures
from him, who offered him Mr. Bodley's seat in Congress,
upon condition that he was able to see things from particular
points of view.

`Mr. Watkins Bodley, it seems,” said General Belch, “and
I regret to say it, is in straitened pecuniary circumstances.
I understand he will feel that he owes it to his family to resign
before the next session. There will be a vacancy; and I
am glad to say that the party is just now in a happy state of
harmony, and that my influence will secure your nomination.
But come up to-night and talk it over. I have asked Ele and
Slugby, and a few others—friends of course—and I hope Mr.
Bat will drop in. You know Aquila Bat?”

“By reputation,” replied Abel.

“He is a very quiet man, but very shrewd. He gives great
dignity and weight to the party. A tremendous lawyer Bat
is. I suppose he is at the very head of the profession in this
country. You'll come?”

Abel was most happy to accept. He was happy to go any
where for distraction. For the rooms in Grand Street had become

inconceivably gloomy. There were no more little parties
there: the last one was given in honor of Mrs. Sligo Moultrie—before
her marriage. The elegant youth of the town
gradually fell off from frequenting Abel's rooms, for he always
proposed cards, and the stakes were enormous; which was a
depressing circumstance to young gentlemen who mainly depended
upon the paternal purse. Such young gentlemen as
Zephyr Wetherley, who was for a long time devoted to young
Mrs. Mellish Whitloe, and sent her the loveliest fans, and buttons,
and little trinkets, which he selected at Marquand's.
But when the year came round the bill was inclosed to Mr.
Wetherley, senior, who, after a short and warm interview with
his son Zephyr, inclosed it in turn to Whitloe himself; who
smiled, and paid it, and advised his wife to buy her own jewelry
in future.

It was not pleasant for young Wetherley, and his friends in
a similar situation, to sit down to a night at cards with such a
desperate player as Abel Newt. Besides, his rooms had lost
that air of voluptuous elegance which was formerly so unique.
The furniture was worn out, and not replaced. The decanters
and bottles were no longer kept in a pretty side-board, but
stood boldly out, ready for instant service; and whenever one
of the old set of men happened in, he was very likely to find a
gentleman — whose toilet was suspiciously fine, whose gold
looked like gilt—who made himself entirely at home with
Abel and his rooms, and whose conversation indicated that
his familiar haunts were race-courses, bar-rooms, and gambling-houses.

It was unanimously decreed that Abel Newt had lost tone.
His dress was gradually becoming flashy. Younger sisters,
who had heard their elders—who were married now—speak of
the fascinating Mr. Newt, perceived that the fascinating Mr.
Newt was a little too familiar when he flirted, and that his
breath was offensive with spirituous fumes. He was noisy in
the gentlemen's dressing-room. The stories he told there
were of such a character, and he told them so loudly, that

more than once some husband, whose wife was in the neighboring
room, had remonstrated with him. Sligo Moultrie,
during one of the winters that he passed in the city after his
marriage, had a fierce quarrel with Abel for that very reason.
They would have come to blows but that their friends parted
them. Mr. Moultrie sent a friend with a note the following
morning, and Mr. Newt acknowledged that he had been rude.

In the evening, at General Belch's, Abel was presented to
all the guests. Mr. Ele was happy to remember a previous occasion
upon which he had had the honor, etc. Mr. Enos Slugby
(Chairman of our Ward Committee, whispered Belch, audibly,
as he introduced him) was very glad to know a gentleman
who bore so distinguished a name. Every body had a little
compliment, to which Abel bowed and smiled politely, while
he observed that the residence was much more comfortable
than the office of General Belch.

They went into the dining-room and sat down to what Mr.
Slugby called “a Champagne supper.” They ate birds and
oysters, and drank wine. Then they ate jellies, blanc mange,
and ice-cream. Then they ate nuts and fruit, and drank coffee.
Then every thing was removed, and fresh decanters, fresh
glasses, and a box of cigars were placed upon the table, and
the servants were told that they need not come until summoned.

At this point a dry, grave, thin, little old man opened the
door. General Belch rose and rushed forward.

“My dear Mr. Bat, I am very happy. Sit here, Sir. Gentlemen,
you all know Mr. Bat.”

The company was silent for a moment, and bowed. Abel
looked up and saw a man who seemed to be made of parchment,
and his complexion, of the hue of dried apples, suggested
that he was usually kept in a warm green satchel.

After a little more murmuring of talk around the table,
General Belch said, in a louder voice,

“Gentlemen, we have a new friend among us, and a little
business to settle to-night. Suppose we talk it over.”

There was a general filling of glasses and a hum of assent.

“I learn,” said the General, whiffing the smoke from his
mouth, “that our worthy friend and able representative, Watkins
Bodley, is about resigning, in consequence of private embarrassments.
Of course he must have a successor.”

Every body poured out smoke and looked at the speaker,
except Mr. Bat, who seemed to be undergoing a little more
drying up, and looked at a picture of General Jackson, which
hung upon the wall.

“That successor, I need not say, of course,” continued General
Belch, “must be a good man and a faithful adherent of
the party. He must be the consistent enemy of a purse-proud
aristocracy.”

“He must, indeed,” said Mr. Enos Slugby, whisking a little
of the ash from his cigar off an embroidered shirt-bosom, in
doing which the flash from a diamond ring upon his finger
dazzled Abel, who had turned as he spoke.

“He must espouse the immortal cause of popular rights,
and be willing to spend and be spent for the people.”

“That's it,” said Mr. William Condor, whose sinecure under
government was not worth less than twenty thousand a
year.

“He must always uphold the honor of the glorious flag of
our country.”

“Excuse me, General Belch, but I can not control my feelings;
I must propose three cheers,” interrupted Alderman MacDennis
O'Rourke; and the three cheers were heartily given.

“And this candidate must be equally the foe of class legislation
and the friend of State rights.”

Here Mr. Bat moved his head, as if he were assenting to a
remark of his friend General Jackson.

“And I surely need not add that it would be the first and
most sacred point of honor with this candidate to serve his
party in every thing, to be the unswerving advocate of all its
measures, and implicitly obedient to all its behests,” said General
Belch.

“Which behests are to be learned by him from the authorized
leaders of the party,” said Mr. Enos Slugby.

“Certainly,” said half of the gentlemen.

“Of course,” said the other half.

During the remarks that General Belch had been making
his eyes were fixed upon Abel Newt, who understood that this
was a political examination, in which the questions asked included
the answers that were to be given. When the General
had ended, the company sat intently smoking for some time,
and filling and emptying their glasses.

“Mr. Bat,” said General Belch, “what is your view?”

Mr. Bat removed his eyes from General Jackson's portrait,
and cleared his throat.

“I think,” he said, closing his eyes, and rubbing his fingers
along his eyebrows, “that the party holding to the only constitutional
policy is to be supported at all hazards, and I
think the great party to which we belong is that party. Our
principles are all true, and our measures are all just. Speculative
persons and dreamers talk about independent political
action. But politics always beget parties. Governments are
always managed by parties, and parties are always managed
by—”

The dried-apple complexion at this point assumed an ashy
hue, as if something very indiscreet had been almost uttered.
Mr. Bat's eyes opened and saw Abel's fixed upon him with a
peculiar intelligence. The whole party looked a little alarmed
at Mr. Bat, and apprehensively at the new-comer. Mr. Ele
frowned at General Belch,

“What does he mean?”

But Abel relieved the embarrassment by quietly completing
Mr. Bat's sentence—

—“by the managers.”

His black eyes glittered around the table, and Mr. Ele remembered
a remark of General Belch's about Mr. Newt's riding
upon the shoulders of his fellow-laborers.

“Exactly, by the managers,” said every body.

“And now,” said General Belch, cheerfully, “whom had we
better propose to our fellow-citizens as a proper candidate for
their suffrages to succeed the Honorable Mr. Bodley?”

He leaned back and puffed. Mr. Ele, who had had a little
previous conversation with the host, here rose and said, that,
if he might venture, he would say, although it was an entirely
unpremeditated thing, which had, in fact, only struck him
while he had been sitting at that hospitable board, but had
impressed him so forcibly that he could not resist speaking—
if he might venture, he would say that he knew a most able
and highly accomplished gentleman—in fact, it had occurred
to him that there was then present a gentleman who would be
precisely the man whom they might present to the people as
a candidate suitable in every way.

General Belch looked at Abel, and said, “Mr. Ele, whom do
you mean?”

“I refer to Mr. Abel Newt,” responded the Honorable Mr.
Ele.

The company looked as companies which have been prepared
for a surprise always look when the surprise comes.

“Is Mr. Newt sound in the faith?” asked Mr. William Condor,
smiling.

“I answer for him,” replied Mr. Ele.

“For instance, Mr. Newt,” said Mr. Enos Slugby, who was
interested in General Belch's little plans, “you have no doubt
that Congress ought to pass the grant to purchase the land
for Fort Arnold, which has been offered to it by the company
of which our friend General Belch is counsel?”

“None at all,” replied Abel. “I should work for it as hard
as I could.”

This was not unnatural, because General Belch had promised
him an interest in the sale.

“Really, then,” said Mr. William Condor, who was also a
proprietor, “I do not see that a better candidate could possibly
be offered to our fellow-citizens. The General Committee
meet to-morrow night. They will call the primaries, and the

Convention will meet next week. I think we all understand
each other. We know the best men in our districts to go to
the Convention. The thing seems to me to be very plain.”

“Very,” said the others, smoking.

“Shall it be Abel Newt?” said Mr. Condor.

“Ay!” answered the chorus.

“I propose the health of the Honorable Abel Newt, whom
I cordially welcome as a colleague,” said Mr. Ele.

Bumpers were drained. It was past midnight, and the gentlemen
rose. They came to Abel and shook his hand; then
they swarmed into the hall and put on their hats and coats.

“Stay, Newt,” whispered Belch, and Abel lingered.

The Honorable B. J. Ele also lingered, as if he would like
to be the last out of the house; for although this distinguished
statesman did not care to do otherwise than as General Belch
commanded, he was anxious to be the General's chief butler,
while the remark about riding on his companions' shoulders
and the personal impression Abel had made upon him, had seriously
alarmed him.

While he was busily looking at the portrait of General Jackson,
General Belch stepped up to him and put out his hand.

“Good-night, my dear Ele! Thank you! thank you!
These things will not be forgotten. Good-night! good-night!”
And he backed the Honorable B. Jawley Ele out of the room
into the hall.

“This is your coat, I think,” said he, taking up a garment
and helping Mr. Ele to get it on. “Ah, you luxurious dog!
you're a pretty friend of the people, with such a splendid coat
as this. Good-night! good-night!” he added, helping his
guest toward the door.

“Hallo, Condor!” he shouted up the street. “Here's Ele
—don't leave him behind; wait for him!”

He put him out of the door. “There, my dear fellow, Condor's
waiting for you! Good-night! Ten thousand thanks!
A pretty friend of the people, hey? Oh, you cunning dog!
Good-night!”

General Belch closed the door and returned to the drawing-room.
Abel Newt was sitting with one leg over the back
of the chair, and a tumbler of brandy before him, smoking.

“God!” said Abel, laughing, as the General returned, “I
wouldn't treat a dog as you do that man.”

“My dear Mr. Representative,” returned Belch, “you, as a
legislator and public man, ought to know that Order is Heaven's
first law.”