A FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLE, A FUNDAMENTAL LAW, AND A FUNDAMENTAL ERROR.
The people of Leaplow are remarkable for the deliberation of their
acts, the moderation of their views, and the accumulation of their
wisdom. As a matter of course such a people is never in an indecent
haste. Although I have now been legally naturalized, and regularly
elected to the great council fully twenty-four hours, three entire days
were allowed for the study of the institutions, and to become
acquainted with the genius of a nation, who, according to their own
account of the matter, have no parallel in heaven or earth, or in the
waters under the earth, before I was called upon to exercise my novel
and important functions. I profited by the delay and shall seize a
favorable moment to make the reader acquainted with some of my
acquisitions on this interesting topic.
The institutions of Leaplow are divided into two great moral
categories, viz.: the LEGAL and the SUBSTITUTIVE. The former embraces
the provisions of the great ELEMENTARY, and the latter all the
provisions of the great ALIMENTARY principle. The first, accordingly,
is limited by the constitution, or the Great National Allegory, while
the last is limited by nothing but practice; one contains the
proposition, and the other its deductions; this is all hypothesis,
that, all corollary. The two great political landmarks, the two public
opinions, the bob-upon-bobs, the rotatory action, and the great and
little wheels, are merely inferential, and I shall, therefore, say
nothing about them in my present treatise, which has a strict relation
only to the fundamental law of the land, or to the Great and Sacred
National Allegory.
It has been already stated that Leaplow was originally a scion of
Leaphigh. The political separation took place in the last generation,
when the Leaplowers publicly renounced Leaphigh and all it contained,
just as your catechumen is made to renounce the devil and all his
works. This renunciation, which is also sometimes called the
DENUNCIATION, was much more to the liking of Leaplow than to that of
Leaphigh; and a long and sanguinary war was the consequence. The
Leaplowers, after a smart struggle, however, prevailed in their firm
determination to have no more to do with Leaphigh. The sequel will show
how far they were right.
Even preceding the struggle, so active was the sentiment of patriotism
and independence, that the citizens of Leaplow, though ill-provided
with the productions of their own industry, proudly resorted to the
self-denial of refusing to import even a pin from the mother country,
actually preferring nakedness to submission. They even solemnly voted
that their venerable progenitor, instead of being, as she clearly ought
to have been, a fond, protecting, and indulgent parent, was, in truth,
no other than a rapacious, vindictive and tyrannical step-mother. This
was the opinion, it will be remembered, when the two communities were
legally united, had but one head, wore clothes, and necessarily pursued
a multitude of their interests in common.
By the lucky termination of the war, all this was radically changed.
Leaplow pointed her thumb at Leaphigh, and declared her intention
henceforth to manage her own affairs in her own way. In order to do
this the more effectually, and, at the same time, to throw dirt into
the countenance of her late step-mother, she determined that her own
polity should run so near a parallel, and yet should be so obviously an
improvement on that of Leaphigh, as to demonstrate the imperfections of
the latter to the most superficial observer. That this patriotic
resolution was faithfully carried out in practice, I am now about to
demonstrate.
In Leaphigh, the old human principle had long prevailed, that political
authority came from God; though why such a theory should ever have
prevailed anywhere, as Mr. Downright once expressed it, I cannot see,
the devil very evidently having a greater agency in its exercise than
any other influence, or intelligence, whatever. However, the jus
divinum was the regulator of the Leaphigh social compact, until the
nobility managed to get the better of the jus, when the divinum was
left to shift for itself. It was at this epocha the present
constitution found its birth. Any one may have observed that one stick
placed on end will fall, as a matter of course, unless rooted in the
earth. Two sticks fare no better, even with their tops united; but
three sticks form a standard. This simple and beautiful idea gave rise
to the Leaphigh polity. Three moral props were erected in the midst of
the community, at the foot of one of which was placed the king, to
prevent it from slipping; for all the danger, under such a system, came
from that of the base slipping; at the foot of the second, the nobles;
and at the foot of the third, the people. On the summit of this tripod
was raised the machine of state. This was found to be a capital
invention in theory, though practice, as practice is very apt to do,
subjected it to some essential modifications. The king, having his
stick all his own way, gave a great deal of trouble to the two other
sets of stick-holders; and, unwilling to disturb the theory, for that
was deemed to be irrevocably settled and sacred, the nobility, who, for
their own particular convenience, paid the principal workmen at the
base of the people’s stick to stand steady, set about the means of
keeping the king’s stick, also, in a more uniform and serviceable
attitude. It was on this occasion that, discovering the king never
could keep his end of the great social stick in the place where he had
sworn to keep it, they solemnly declared that he must have forgotten
where the constitutional foot-hole was, and that he had irretrievably
lost his memory—a decision that was the remote cause of the recent
calamity of Captain Poke. The king was no sooner constitutionally
deprived of his memory, than it was an easy matter to strip him of all
his other faculties; after which it was humanely decreed, as indeed it
ought to be in the case of a being so destitute, that he could do no
wrong. By way of following out the idea on a humane and Christian-like
principle, and in order to make one part of the practice conform to the
other, it was shortly after determined that he should do nothing; his
eldest first-cousin of the masculine gender being legally proclaimed
his substitute. In the end, the crimson curtain was drawn before the
throne. As, however, this cousin might begin to wriggle the stick in
his turn, and derange the balance of the tripod, the other two sets of
stick-holders next decided that, though his majesty had an undeniable
constitutional right to say who SHOULD BE his eldest first-cousin of
the masculine gender, they had an undoubted constitutional right to say
who he SHOULD NOT BE. The result of all this was a compromise; his
majesty, who, like other people, found the sweets of authority more
palatable than the bitter, agreeing to get up on top of the tripod,
where he might appear seated on the machine of state, to receive
salutations, and eat and drink in peace, leaving the others to settle
among themselves who should do the work at the bottom, as well as they
could. In brief, such is the history, and such was the polity of
Leaphigh, when I had the honor of visiting that country.
The Leaplowers were resolute to prove that all this was radically
wrong. They determined, in the first place, that there should be but
one great social beam; and, in order that it should stand perfectly
steady, they made it the duty of every citizen to prop its base. They
liked the idea of a tripod well enough, but, instead of setting one up
in the Leaphigh fashion, they just reversed its form, and stuck it on
top of their beam, legs uppermost, placing a separate agent on each
leg, to work their machine of state; taking care, also, to send a new
one aloft periodically. They reasoned thus: If one of the Leaphigh
beams slip (and they will be very apt to slip in wet weather, with the
king, nobles and people wriggling and shoving against each other), down
will come the whole machine of state, or, to say the least, it will get
so much awry as never to work as well as at first; and therefore we
will have none of it. If, on the other hand, one of our agents makes a
blunder and falls, why, he will only break his own neck. He will,
moreover, fall in the midst of us, and, should he escape with life, we
can either catch him and throw him back again, or we can send a better
hand up in his place, to serve out the rest of his time. They also
maintain that one beam, supported by all the citizens, is much less
likely to slip than three beams, supported by three powers of very
uncertain, not to say unequal, forces.
Such, in effect, is the substance of the respective national allegories
of Leaphigh and of Leaplow; I say allegories, for both governments seem
to rely on this ingenious form of exhibiting their great distinctive
national sentiments. It would, in fact, be an improvement, were all
constitutions henceforth to be written in this manner, since they would
necessarily be more explicit, intelligible, and sacred than they are by
the present attempt at literality.
Having explained the governing principles of these two important
states, I now crave the reader’s attention, for a moment, while I go a
little into the details of the MODUS OPERANDI, in both cases.
Leaphigh acknowledged a principle, in the outset, that Leaplow totally
disclaimed, viz., that of primogeniture. Being an only child myself,
and having no occasion for research on this interesting subject, I
never knew the basis of this peculiar right, until I came to read the
great Leaphigh commentator, Whiterock, on the governing rules of the
social compact. I there found that the first-born, MORALLY considered,
is thought to have better claims to the honors of the genealogical
tree, on the father’s side, than those offspring whose origin is to be
referred to a later period in connubial life. On this obvious and
highly discriminating principle, the crown, the rights of the nobles,
and indeed all other rights, are transferred from father to son, in the
direct male line, according to primogeniture.
Nothing of this is practised in Leaplow. There, the supposition of
legitimacy is as much in favor of the youngest as of the oldest born,
and the practice is in conformity. As there is no hereditary chief to
poise on one of the legs of the great tripod, the people at the foot of
the beam choose one from among themselves, periodically, who is called
the Great Sachem. The same people choose another set, few in number,
who occupy a common seat, on another leg. These they term the Riddles.
Another set, still more numerous and popular in aspect, if not in fact,
fills a large seat on the third leg. These last, from their being
supposed to be supereminently popular and disinterested, are familiarly
known as the Legion. They are also pleasantly nicknamed the Bobees, an
appellation that took its rise in the circumstance that most of the
members of their body have submitted to the second dock, and, indeed,
have nearly obliterated every sign of a CAUDA. I had, most luckily,
been chosen to sit in the House of Bobees, a station for which I felt
myself well qualified, in this great essential at least; for all the
anointing and forcing resorted to by Noah and myself, during our voyage
out, and our residence in Leaphigh, had not produced so much as a
visible sprout in either.
The Great Sachem, the Riddles, and the Legion, had conjoint duties to
perform, in certain respects, and separate duties in others. All three,
as they owed their allegorical elevation to, so were they dependent on,
the people at the foot of the great social stick, for approbation and
reward—that is to say for all rewards other than those which they have
it in their power to bestow on themselves. There was another authority,
or agent of the public, that is equally perched on the social beam,
though not quite so dependent as the three just named, upon the main
prop of the people—being also propped by a mechanical disposition of
the tripod itself. These are termed the Supreme Arbitrators, and their
duties are to revise the acts of the other three agents of the people,
and to decide whether they are or are not in conformity with the
recognized principles of the Sacred Allegory.
I was greatly delighted with my own progress in the study of the
Leaplow institutions. In the first place, I soon discovered that the
principal thing was to reverse the political knowledge I had acquired
in Leaphigh, as one would turn a tub upside-down, when he wished to
draw from its stores at a fresh end, and then I was pretty sure of
being within at least the spirit of the Leaplow law. Everything seemed
simple, for all was dependent on the common prop, at the base of the
great social beam.
Having got a thorough insight myself into the governing principles of
the system under which I had been chosen to serve, I went to look up my
colleague, Captain Poke, in order to ascertain how he understood the
great Leaplow Allegory.
I found the mind of the sealer, according to a beautiful form of speech
already introduced in this narrative, “considerably exercised,” on the
several subjects that so naturally presented themselves to a man in his
situation. In the first place, he was in a towering passion at the
impudence of Bob in presuming to offer himself as a candidate for the
great council; and having offered himself, the rage of the Captain was
in no degree abated by the circumstance of the young rascal’s being at
the head of the poll. He most unreservedly swore “that no subordinate
of his should ever sit in the same legislative body with himself; that
he was a republican by birth, and knew the usages of republican
governments quite as well as the best patriot among them; and although
he admitted that all sorts of critters were sent to Congress in his
country, no man ever knew an instance of a cabin-boy’s being sent
there. They might elect just as much as they pleased; but coming
ashore, and playing politician were very different things from cleaning
his boots, and making his coffee, and mixing his grog.” The captain had
just been waited on by a committee of the Perpendiculars (half the
Leaplow community is on some committee or other), by whom he had been
elected, and they had given notice, that instructions would be sent in,
forthwith, to all their representatives, to perform gyration No. 3, as
soon after the meeting of the council as possible. He was no tumbler,
and he had sent for a master of political saltation, who had just been
with him practising. According to Noah’s own statement, his success was
anything but flattering. “If they would give a body room, Sir John,” he
said, in a complaining accent, “I should think nothing of it—but you
are expected to stand shoulder to shoulder—yard-arm and yard-arm—and
throw a flap-jack as handy as an old woman would toss a johnny-cake!
It’s unreasonable to think of wearing ship without room; but give me
room, and I’ll engage to get round on the other tack, and to luff into
the line again, as safely as the oldest cruiser among ’em, though not
quite so quick. They do go about spitefully, that’s sartain.”
Nor were the Great National Allegories without their difficulties. Noah
perfectly understood the images of the two tripods, though he was
disposed to think that neither was properly secured. A mast would make
but bad weather, he maintained, let it be ever so well rigged and
stayed, without being also securely stepped. He saw no use in trusting
the heels of the beams to anybody. Good lashings were what were wanted,
and then the people might go about their private affairs, and not fear
the work would fall. That the king of Leaphigh had no memory, he could
testify from bitter experience; nor did he believe that he had any
conscience; and, chiefly he desired to know if we, when we got up into
our places on the top of the three inverted beams, among the other
Bobees, were to make war on the Great Sachem and the Riddles, or
whether we were to consider the whole affair as a good thing, in which
the wisest course would be to make fair weather of it?
To all these remarks and questions I answered as well as my own limited
experience would allow; taking care to inform my friend that he had
conceived the whole matter a little too literally, as all that he had
been reading about the great political beams, the tripods, and the
legislative boxes, was merely an allegory.
“And pray, then, Sir John, what may an allegory be?”
“In this case, my good sir, it is a constitution.”
“And what is a constitution?”
“Why, it is sometimes as you perceive, an allegory.”
“And are we not to be mast-headed, then, according to the book?”
“Figuratively, only.”
“But there are actually such critters as the Great Sachem, and Riddles,
and above all, the Bobees!—We are boney fie-diddle-di-dee elected?”
“Boney fie-diddle-di-dee.”
“And may I take the liberty of asking, what it is our duty to do?”
“We are to act practically—according to the literality of the legal,
implied, figurative, allegorical significations of the Great National
Compact under a legitimate construction.”
“I fear we shall have to work doubletides, Sir John, to do so much in
so short a time! Do you mean that, in honest truth, there is no beam?”
“There is, and there is not.”
“No fore, main, and mizzen tops, according to what is here written
down?”
“There is not, and there is.”
“Sir John, in the name of God, speak out! Is all this about eight
dollars a day, no better than a take in?”
“That, I believe is strictly literal.”
As Noah now seemed a little mollified, I seized the opportunity to tell
him he must beware how he attempted to stop Bob from attending the
council. Members were privileged, going and coming; and unless he was
guarded in his course, he might have some unpleasant collision with the
sergeant-at-arms. Besides, it was unbecoming the dignity of a
legislator to be wrangling about trifles, and he, to whom was confided
the great affairs of a state, ought to attach the utmost importance to
a grave exterior, which commonly was of more account with his
constituents than any other quality. Any one could tell whether he was
grave or not, but it was by no means so easy a matter to tell whether
he or his constituents had the greater cause to appear so. Noah
promised to be discreet, and we parted, not to meet again until we
assembled to be sworn in.
Before continuing the narrative, I will just mention that we disposed
of our commercial investments that morning. All the Leaphigh opinions
brought good prices; and I had occasion to see how well the brigadier
understood the market by the eagerness with which, in particular, the
Opinions on the State of Society in Leaplow were bought up. But, by one
of those unexpected windfalls which raise up so many of the chosen of
the earth to their high places, the cook did better than any of us. It
will be remembered, that he had bartered an article of merchandise that
he called slush against a neglected bale of Distinctive Leaplow
Opinions, which had no success at all in Leaphigh. Coming as they did
from abroad, these articles had taken as novelties in Bivouac, and he
sold them all before night, at enormous advances; the cry being that
something new and extraordinary had found its way into the market.