HOW TO ENACT LAWS—ORATORY, LOGIC, AND ELOQUENCE; ALL CONSIDERED IN
THEIR EVERY-DAY ASPECTS.
Political oaths are very much the same sort of thing everywhere, and I
shall say no more about our inauguration than simply to state it took
place as usual. The two houses were duly organized, and we proceeded,
without delay, to the transaction of business. I will here state that I
was much rejoiced to find Brigadier Downright among the Bobees, the
captain whispering that most probably he had been mistaken for an
“immigrunt,” and chosen accordingly.
It was not a great while before the Great Sachem sent us a
communication, which contained a compte rendue of the state of the
nation. Like most accounts it is my good fortune to receive, I thought
it particularly long. Agreeably to the opinions of this document, the
people of Leaplow were, by a good deal, the happiest people in the
world; they were also considerably more respected, esteemed, beloved,
honored, and properly appreciated, than any other monikin community,
and, in short, they were the admiration and glory of the universe. I
was exceedingly glad to hear this, for some of the facts were quite new
to me; a circumstance which shows one can never get correct notions of
a nation except from itself.
These important facts properly digested, we all of us set about our
several duties with a zeal that spoke fairly for our industry and
integrity. Things commenced swimmingly, and it was not long before the
Riddles sent us a resolution for concurrence, by way of opening the
ball. It was conceived in the following terms: “Resolved, that the
color which has hitherto been deemed to be black, is really white.”
As this was the first resolution that involved a principle on which we
had been required to vote, I suggested to Noah the propriety of our
going round to the brigadier, and inquiring what might be the drift of
so singular a proposition. Our colleague answered the question with
great good-nature, giving us to understand that the Perpendiculars and
the Horizontals had long been at variance on the mere coloring property
of various important questions, and the real matter involved in the
resolution was not visible. The former had always maintained (by
always, he meant ever since the time they maintained the contrary) the
doctrine of the resolution, and the latter its converse. A majority of
the Riddles, just at this moment, are Perpendiculars; and, as it was
now seen, they had succeeded in getting a vote on their favorite
principle.
“According to this account of the matter, Sir John,” observed the
captain, “I shall be compelled to maintain that black is white, seeing
that I am in on the Parpendic’lar interest?”
I thought with the captain, and was pleased that my own legislative
debut was not to be characterized by the promulgation of any doctrine
so much at variance with my preconceived ways of thinking. Curious,
however, to know his opinion, I asked the brigadier in what light he
felt disposed to view the matter himself.
“I am elected by the Tangents,” he said; “and, by what I can learn, it
is the intention of our friends to steer a middle course; and one of
our leaders is already selected, who, at a proper stage of the affair,
is to move an amendment.”
“Can you refer me, my dear friend, to anything connected with the Great
National Allegory that bears on this point?”
“Why, there is a clause among the fundamental and immutable laws, which
it is thought was intended to meet this very case; but, unhappily, the
sages by whom our Allegory was drawn up have not paid quite as much
attention to the phraseology as the importance of the subject
demanded.”
Here the brigadier laid his finger on the clause in question, and I
returned to a seat to study its meaning. It was conceived as
follows:—Art. IV. Clause 6: “The Great National Council shall, in no
case whatever, pass any law, or resolution, declaring white to be
black.”
After studying this fundamental enactment to the bottom, turning it on
every side, and finally considering it upside-down, I came to the
conclusion that its tenor was, on the whole, rather more favorable than
unfavorable to the Horizontal doctrine. It struck me, a very good
argument was to be made out of the constitutional question, and that it
presented a very fair occasion for a new member to venture on a maiden
speech. Having so settled the matter, entirely to my own satisfaction,
I held myself in reserve, waiting for the proper moment to produce an
effect.
It was not long before the chairman of the committee on the judiciary
(one of the effects of the resolution was entirely to change the
coloring of all testimony throughout the vast Republic of Leaplow) made
his report on the subject-matter of the resolution. This person was a
Tangent, who had a besetting wish to become a Riddle, although the
leaning of our house was decidedly Horizontal; and, as a matter of
course, he took the Riddle side of this question. The report, itself,
required seven hours in the reading, commencing with the subject at the
epocha of the celebrated caucus that was adjourned sine die, by the
disruption of the earth’s crust, and previously to the distribution of
the great monikin family into separate communities, and ending with the
subject of the resolution in his hand. The reporter had set his
political palette with the utmost care, having completely covered the
subject with neutral tints, before he got through with it, and glazing
the whole down with ultramarine, in such a way as to cause the eye to
regard the matter through a fictitious atmosphere. Finally, he repeated
the resolution, verbatim, and as it came from the other house.
Mr. Speaker now called upon gentlemen to deliver their sentiments. To
my utter amazement, Captain Poke arose, put his tobacco back into its
box, and opened the debate without apology.
The honorable captain said he understood this question to be one
implicating the liberties of everybody. He understood the matter
literally, as it was propounded in the Allegory, and set forth in the
resolution; and, as such, he intended to look at it with unprejudiced
eyes. “The natur’ of this proposal lay altogether in color. What is
color, after all? Make the most of it, and in the most favorable
position, which, perhaps, is the cheek of a comely young woman, and it
is but skin-deep. He remembered the time when a certain female in
another part of the univarse, who is commonly called Miss Poke, might
have out-rosed the best rose in a placed called Stunnin’tun; and what
did it all amount to? He shouldn’t ask Miss Poke herself, for obvious
reasons—but he would ask any of the neighbors how she looked now?
Quitting female natur’, he would come to human natur’ generally. He had
often remarked that sea water was blue, and he had frequently caused
pails to be lowered, and the water brought on deck, to see if he could
come at any of this blueing matter—for indigo was both scarce and dear
in his part of the world, but he never could make out anything by the
experiment; from which he concluded that, on the whull, there was
pretty much no such thing as color, at all.
“As for the resolution before the house, it depended entirely on the
meaning of words. Now, after all, what is a word? Why, some people’s
words are good, and other people’s words are good for nothing. For his
part, he liked sealed instruments—which might be because he was a
sealer—but as for mere words, he set but little store by them. He once
tuck a man’s word for his wages; and the long and short of it was, that
he lost his money. He had known a thousand instances in which words had
proved to be of no value, and he did not see why some gentlemen wished
to make them of so much importance here. For his part, he was for
puffing up nothing, no, not even a word or a color, above its desarts.
The people seemed to call for a change in the color of things, and he
called upon gentlemen to remember that this was a free country, and one
in which the laws ruled; and therefore he trusted they would be
disposed to adapt the laws to the wants of the people. What had the
people asked of the house in this matter? So far as his knowledge went,
they had really asked nothing in words, but he understood there was
great discontent on the subject of the old colors; and he construed
their silence into an expression of contempt for words in general. He
was a Parpendic’lar, and he should always maintain Parpendic’lar
sentiments. Gentlemen might not agree with him, but, for one, he was
not disposed to jipordyze the liberties of his constituents, and
therefore he gave the rizolution just as it came from the Riddles,
without altering a letter—although he did think there was one word
misspelt—he meant ‘really,’ which he had been taught to spell
‘ra’aily’—but he was ready to sacrifice even his opinions on this point
to the good of the country; and therefore he went with the Riddles,
even to their misprints. He hoped the rizolution would pass, with the
entire unanimity so important a subject demanded.”
This speech produced a very strong sensation. Up to this time, the
principal orators of the house had been much in the practice of
splitting hairs about some nice technicality in the Great Allegory; but
Noah, with the simplicity of a truly great mind, had made a home thrust
at the root of the whole matter; laying about him with the
single-first, I made a few apposite remarks on the necessity of
respecting the vital ordinances of the body politic, and asked the
attention of my hearers while I read to them a particular clause, which
it had struck me had some allusion to the very point now in
consideration. Having thus cleared the way, I had not the folly to
defeat the objects of so much preparation, by an indiscreet
precipitancy. So far from it, previously to reading the extract from
the constitution, I waited until the attention of every member present
was attracted more forcibly by the dignity, deliberation, and gravity
of my manner, than by the substance of what had yet been said. In the
midst of this deep silence and expectation I read aloud, in a voice
that reached every cranny in the hall—
“The great council shall, in no case whatever, pass any law, or
resolution, declaring white to be black.”
If I had been calm in the presentation of this authority, I was equally
self-possessed in waiting for its effect. Looking about me I saw
surprise, perplexity, doubt, wonder, and uncertainty in every
countenance, if I did not find conviction. One fact embarrassed even
me. Our friends the Horizontals were evidently quite as much at fault
as our opponents the Perpendiculars, instead of being, as I had good
reason to hope, in an ecstasy of pleasure on hearing their cause
sustained by an authority so weighty.
“Will the honorable member have the goodness to explain from what
author he has quoted?” one of the leading Perpendiculars at length
ventured to inquire.
“The language you have just heard, Mr. Speaker,” I resumed, believing
that now was the favorable instant to follow up the matter, “is
language that must find an echo in every heart—it is language that can
never be used in vain in this venerable hall, language that carries
with it conviction and command.”—I observed that the members were now
fairly gaping at each other with wonder.—“Sir, I am asked to name the
author from whom I have quoted these sententious and explicit
words—Sir, what you have just heard is to be found in the Article IV.,
Clause 6, of the Great National Allegory—”
“Order—order—order!” shouted a hundred raven throats.
I stood aghast, even more amazed than the house itself had been only
the instant before.
“Order—order—order—order—order!” continued to be yelled, as if a
million of demons were screeching in the hall.
“The honorable member will please to recollect,” said the bland and
ex-officio impartial speaker, who, by the way, was a Perpendicular,
elected by fraud, “that it is out of order to use personalities.”
“Personalities! I do not understand, sir—”
“The instrument to which the honorable member has alluded, his own good
sense will tell him, was never written by itself—so far from this, the
very members of the convention by which it was drawn up, are at this
instant members of this house, and most of them supporters of the
resolution now before the house; and it will be deemed personal to
throw into their faces former official acts, in this unheard-of manner.
I am sorry it is my duty to say, that the honorable member is entirely
out of order.”
“But, sir, the Sacred National—”
“Sacred, sir, beyond a doubt—but in a sense different from what you
imagine—much too sacred, sir, ever to be alluded to here. There are the
works of the commentators, the books of constructions, and specially
the writings of various foreign and perfectly disinterested
statesmen—need I name Ekrub in particular!—that are at the command of
members; but so long as I am honored with a seat in this chair, I shall
peremptorily decide against all personalities.”
I was dumfounded. The idea that the authority itself would be refused
never crossed my mind, though I had anticipated a sharp struggle on its
construction. The constitution only required that no law should be
passed declaring black to be white, whereas the resolution merely
ordered that henceforth white should be black. Here was matter for
discussion, nor was I at all sanguine as to the result; but to be thus
knocked on the head by a club, in the outset, was too much for the
modesty of a maiden speech. I took my seat in confusion; and I plainly
saw that the Perpendiculars, by their sneers, now expected to carry
everything triumphantly their own way. This, most probably, would have
been the case, had not one of the Tangents immediately got the floor,
to move the amendment. To the vast indignation of Captain Poke, and, in
some degree, to my own mortification, this duty was intrusted to the
Hon. Robert Smut. Mr. Smut commenced with entreating members not to be
led away by the sophistry of the first speaker. That honorable member,
no doubt, felt himself called upon to defend the position taken by his
friends; but those that knew him well, as it had been his fate to know
him, must be persuaded that his sentiments had, at least, undergone a
sudden and miraculous change. That honorable member denied the
existence of color at all! He would ask that honorable member if he had
never been instrumental himself in producing what is generally called
“black and blue color”? He should like to know if that honorable member
placed as little value, at present, on blows as he now seemed to set on
words. He begged pardon of the house—but this was a matter of great
interest to himself—he knew that there never had been a greater
manufacturer of “black and blue color” than that honorable member, and
he wondered at his now so pertinaciously denying the existence of
colors, and at his wish to underrate their value. For his part, he
trusted he understood the importance of words, and the value of hues;
and while he did not exactly see the necessity of deeming black so
inviolable as some gentlemen appeared to think it, he was not by any
means prepared to go as far as those who had introduced this
resolution. He did not believe that public opinion was satisfied with
maintaining that black was black, but he thought it was not yet
disposed to affirm that black was white. He did not say that such a day
might not arrive; he only maintained that it had not yet arrived, and
with a view to meet that which he believed was the public sentiment, he
should move, by way of amendment, to strike out the whole of the
resolution after the word “really,” and insert that which would cause
the whole resolution to read as follows, viz.:
“Resolved, that the color which has hitherto been deemed to be black,
is really lead-color.”
Hereupon, the Honorable Mr. Smut took his seat, leaving the house to
its own ruminations. The leaders of the Perpendiculars, foreseeing that
if they got half-way this session, they might effect the rest of their
object the next, determined to accept the compromise; and the
resolution, amended, passed by a handsome majority. So this important
point was finally decided for the moment, leaving great hopes among the
Perpendiculars of being able to lay the Horizontals even flatter on
their backs than they were just then.
The next question that presented itself was of far less interest,
exciting no great attention. To understand it, however, it will be
necessary to refer a little to history. The government of Leapthrough
had, about sixty-three years before, caused one hundred and twenty-six
Leaplow ships to be burned on the high seas, or otherwise destroyed.
The pretence was, that they incommoded Leapthrough. Leaplow was much
too great a nation to submit to so heinous an outrage, while, at the
same time, she was much too magnanimous and wise a nation to resent it
in an every-day and vulgar manner. Instead of getting in a passion and
loading her cannon, she summoned all her logic and began to reason.
After reasoning the matter with Leapthrough for fifty-two years, or
until all the parties who had been wronged were dead, and could no
longer be benefited by her logic, she determined to abate two-thirds of
her pretensions in a pecuniary sense, and all her pretensions in an
honorary sense, and to compromise the affair by accepting a certain
insignificant sum of money as a salve to the whole wrong. Leapthrough
conditioned to pay this money, in the most solemn and satisfactory
manner; and everybody was delighted with the amicable termination of a
very vexatious and a seemingly interminable discussion. Leapthrough was
quite as glad to get rid of the matter as Leaplow, and very naturally,
under all the circumstances, thought the whole thing at length done
with, when she conditioned to pay the money. The Great Sachem of
Leaplow, most unfortunately, however, had a “will of iron,” or, in
other words, he thought the money ought to be paid as well as
conditioned to be paid. This despotic construction of the bargain had
given rise to unheard-of dissatisfaction in Leapthrough, as indeed
might have been expected; but it was, oddly enough, condemned with some
heat even in Leaplow itself, where it was stoutly maintained by certain
ingenious logicians, that the only true way to settle a bargain to pay
money, was to make a new one for a less sum whenever the amount fell
due; a plan that, with a proper moderation and patience would be
certain, in time, to extinguish the whole debt.
Several very elaborate patriots had taken this matter in hand, and it
was now about to be presented to the house under four different
categories. Category No. 1, had the merit of simplicity and precision.
It proposed merely that Leaplow should pay the money itself, and take
up the bond, using its own funds. Category No. 2, embraced a
recommendation of the Great Sachem for Leaplow to pay itself, using,
however, certain funds of Leapthrough. Category No. 3 was a proposal to
offer ten millions to Leapthrough to say no more about the transaction
at all. Category No. 4, was to commence the negotiating or abating
system mentioned, without delay, in order to extinguish the claim by
instalments as soon as possible.
The question came up on the consideration of the different projects
connected with these four leading principles. My limits will not admit
of a detailed history of the debate. All I can do, is merely to give an
outline of the logic that these various propositions set in motion, of
the legislative ingenuity of which they were the parents, and of the
multitude of legitimate conclusions that so naturally followed.
In favor of category No 1, it was urged that, by adopting its leading
idea, the affair would be altogether in our own hands, and might
consequently be settled with greater attention to purely Leaplow
interests; that further delay could only proceed from our own
negligence; that no other project was so likely to get rid of this
protracted negotiation in so short a time; that by paying the debt with
the Leaplow funds, we should be sure of receiving its amount in the
good legal currency of the republic; that it would be singularly
economical, as the agent who paid might also be authorized to receive,
whereby there would be a saving in salary; and, finally, that under
this category, the whole affair might be brought within the limits of a
nutshell, and the compass of any one’s understanding.
In favor of category No. 2, little more than very equivocal sophisms,
which savored strongly of commonplace opinions, were presented. It was
pretended, for instance, that he who signed a bond was in equity bound
to pay it; that, if he refused, the other party had the natural and
legal remedy of compulsion; that it might not always be convenient for
a creditor to pay all the obligations of other people which he might
happen to hold; that if his transactions were extensive, money might be
wanting to carry out such a principle; and that, as a precedent, it
would comport much more with Leaplow prudence and discretion to
maintain the old and tried notions of probity and justice, than to
enter on the unknown ocean of uncertainty that was connected with the
new opinions, by admitting which, we could never know when we were
fairly out of debt.
Category No. 3, was discussed on an entirely new system of logic, which
appeared to have great favor with that class of the members who were of
the more refined school of ethics. These orators referred the whole
matter to a sentiment of honor. They commenced by drawing vivid
pictures of the outrages in which the original wrongs had been
committed. They spoke of ruined families, plundered mariners, and
blasted hopes. They presented minute arithmetical calculations to show
that just forty times as much wrong had, in fact, been done, as this
bond assumed; and that, as the case actually stood, Leaplow ought, in
strict justice, to receive exactly forty times the amount of the money
that was actually included in the instrument. Turning from these
interesting details, they next presented the question of honor.
Leapthrough, by attacking the Leaplow flag, and invading Leaplow
rights, had made it principally a question of honor, and, in disposing
of it, the principle of honor ought never to be lost sight of. It was
honorable to PAY ones’ debts—this no one could dispute but it was not
so clear, by any means, that there was any honor in RECEIVING ones’
dues. The national honor was concerned; and they called on members, as
they cherished the sacred sentiment, to come forward and sustain it by
their votes. As the matter stood, Leaplow had the best of it. In
compounding with her creditor, as had been done in the treaty,
Leapthrough lost some honor—in refusing to pay the bond, she lost still
more; and now, if we should send her the ten millions proposed, and she
should have the weakness to accept it, we should fairly get our foot
upon her neck, and she could never look us in the face again!
The category No. 4, brought up a member who had made political economy
his chief study. This person presented the following case:—According to
his calculations, the wrong had been committed precisely sixty-three
years, and twenty-six days, and two-thirds of a day ago. For the whole
of that long period Leaplow had been troubled with this vexatious
question, which had hung like a cloud over the otherwise unimpaired
brightness of her political landscape. It was time to get rid of it.
The sum stipulated was just twenty-five millions, to be paid in
twenty-five annual instalments, of a million each. Now, he proposed to
reduce the instalments to one-half the number, but in no way to change
the sum. That point ought to be considered as irrevocably settled. This
would diminish the debt one-half. Before the first instalment should
become due he would effect a postponement, by diminishing the
instalments again to six, referring the time to the latest periods
named in the last treaty, and always most sacredly keeping the sums
precisely the same. It would be impossible to touch the sums, which, he
repeated, ought to be considered as sacred. Before the expiration of
the first seven years, a new arrangement might reduce the instalments
to two, or even to one—always respecting the sum; and finally, at the
proper moment, a treaty could be concluded, declaring that there should
be no instalment at all, reserving the point, that if there HAD been an
instalment, Leaplow could never have consented to reduce it below one
million. The result would be that in about five-and-twenty years the
country would be fairly rid of the matter, and the national character,
which it was agreed on all hands was even now as high as it well could
be, would probably be raised many degrees higher. The negotiations had
commenced in a spirit of compromise; and our character for consistency
required that this spirit of compromise should continue to govern our
conduct as long as a single farthing remained unpaid.
This idea took wonderfully; and I do believe it would have passed by a
handsome majority, had not a new proposition been presented, by an
orator of singularly pathetic powers.
The new speaker objected to all four of the categories. He said that
each and every one of them would lead to war. Leapthrough was a
chivalrous and high-minded nation, as was apparent by the present
aspect of things. Should we presume to take up the bond, using our own
funds, it would mortally offend her pride, and she would fight us; did
we presume to take up the bond, using her funds, it would offend her
financial system, and she would fight us; did we presume to offer her
ten millions to say no more about the matter, it would offend her
dignity by intimating that she was to be bought off from her rights,
and she would fight us; did we presume to adopt the system of new
negotiations, it would mortally offend her honor, by intimating that
she would not respect her old negotiations, and she would fight us. He
saw war in all four of the categories. He was for a peace category, and
he thought he held in his hand a proposition, that by proper
management, using the most tender delicacy, and otherwise respecting
the sensibilities of the high and honorable nation in question, we
might possibly get out of this embarrassing dilemma without actually
coming to blows—he said to blows, for he wished to impress on honorable
members the penalties of war. He invited gentlemen to recollect that a
conflict between two great nations was a serious affair. If Leapthrough
were a little nation, it would be a different matter, and the contest
might be conducted in a corner; our honor was intimately connected with
all we did with great nations. What was war? Did gentlemen know? He
would tell them.
Here the orator drew a picture of war that caused suffering monikinity
to shudder. He viewed it in its four leading points: its religious, its
pecuniary, its political, and its domestic penalties. He described war
to be the demon state of the monikin mind; as opposed to worship, to
charity, brotherly love, and all the virtues. On its pecuniary
penalties, he touched by exhibiting a tax-sheet. Buttons which cost
sixpence a gross, he assured the house, would shortly cost sevenpence a
gross.—Here he was reminded that monikins no longer wore buttons.—No
matter, they bought and sold buttons, and the effects on trade were
just the same. The political penalties of war he fairly showed to be
frightful; but when he came to speak of the domestic penalties, there
was not a dry eye in the house. Captain Poke blubbered so loud that I
was in an agony lest he should be called to order.
“Regard that pure spirit,” he cried, “crushed as it has been in the
whirlwind of war. Behold her standing over the sod that covers the hero
of his country, the husband of her virgin affections. In vain the
orphan at her side turns its tearful eye upwards, and asks for the
plumes that so lately pleased its infant fancy; in vain its gentle
voice inquires when he is to return, when he is to gladden their hearts
with his presence—” But I can write no more. Sobs interrupted the
speaker, and he took his seat in an ecstasy of godliness and
benevolence.
I hurried across the house, to beg the brigadier would introduce me to
this just monikin without a moment’s delay. I felt as if I could take
him to my heart at once, and swear an eternal friendship with a spirit
so benevolent. The brigadier was too much agitated, at first, to attend
to me; but, after wiping his eyes at least a hundred times, he finally
succeeded in arresting the torrents, and looked upwards with a bland
smile.
“Is he not a wonderful monikin?”
“Wonderful indeed! How completely he puts us all to shame!—Such a
monikin can only be influenced by the purest love for the species.”
“Yes, he is of a class that we call the third monikinity. Nothing
excites our zeal like the principles of the class of which he is a
member!”
“How! Have you more than one class of the humane?”
“Certainly—the Original, the Representative, and the Speculative.”
“I am devoured by the desire to understand the distinctions, my dear
brigadier.”
“The Original is an every-day class, that feels under the natural
impulses. The Representative is a more intellectual division, that
feels chiefly by proxy. The Speculatives are those whose sympathies are
excited by positive interests, like the last speaker. This person has
lately bought a farm by the acre, which he is about to sell, in village
lots, by the foot, and war will knock the whole thing in the head. It
is this which stimulates his benevolence in so lively a manner.”
“Why, this is no more than a development of the social-stake system—”
I was interrupted by the speaker, who called the house to order. The
vote on the resolution of the last orator was to be taken. It read as
follows:—
“Resolved, that it is altogether unbecoming the dignity and character
of Leapthrough, for Leaplow to legislate on the subject of so petty a
consideration as a certain pitiful treaty between the two countries.”
“Unanimity—unanimity!” was shouted by fifty voices. Unanimity there
was; and then the whole house set to work shaking hands and hugging
each other, in pure joy at the success of the honorable and ingenious
manner in which it had got rid of this embarrassing and impertinent
question.