"There shall be, in England, seven half penny loaves sold for a
penny; the three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops; and I will
make it felony to drink small beer; all the realm shall be in
common, and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass."--_Jack
Cade._
"I do not see, sir," I remarked, as we moved on from the last of these
pauses, "why the governors and the legislators, and writers on this
subject of anti-rentism, talk so much of feudality, and chickens, and
days' works, and durable leases, when we have none of these, while we
have all the disaffection they are said to produce."
"You will understand that better as you come to know more of men. No
party alludes to its weak points. It is just as you say; but the
proceedings of your tenants, for instance, give the lie to the theories
of the philanthropists, and must be kept in the background. It is true
that the disaffection has not yet extended to one-half, or to one-fourth
of the leased estates in the country, perhaps not to one-tenth, if you
take the number of the landlords as the standard, instead of the extent
of their possessions, but it certainly _will_, should the authorities
tamper with the rebels much longer."
"If they tax the incomes of the landlords under the durable rent system,
why would not the parties aggrieved have the same right to take up arms
to resist such an act of oppression as our fathers had in 1776?"
"Their cause would be better; for that was only a constructive right,
and one dependent on general principles, whereas this is an attempt at a
most mean evasion of a written law, the meanness of the attempt being
quite as culpable as its fraud. Every human being knows that such a tax,
so far as it has any object beyond that of an election-sop, is to choke
off the landlords from the maintenance of their covenants, which is a
thing that no State _can_ do directly, without running the risk of
having its law pronounced unconstitutional by the courts of the United
States, if, indeed, not by its own courts."
"The Court of Errors, think you?"
"The Court of Errors is doomed, by its own abuses. Catiline never abused
the patience of Rome more than that mongrel assembly has abused the
patience of every sound lawyer in the State. '_Fiat justitia, ruat
coelum_,' is interpreted, now, into 'Let justice be done, and the
court fall.' No one wishes to see it continued, and the approaching
convention will send it to the Capulets, if it do nothing else to be
commended. It was a pitiful imitation of the House of Lords system, with
this striking difference; the English lords are men of education, and
men with a vast deal at stake, and their knowledge and interests teach
them to leave the settlement of appeals to the legal men of their body,
of whom there are always a respectable number, in addition to those in
possession of the woolsack and the bench; whereas our Senate is a court
composed of small lawyers, country doctors, merchants, farmers, with
occasionally a man of really liberal attainments. Under the direction of
an acute and honest judge, as most of our true judges actually are, the
Court of Errors would hardly form such a jury as would allow a
creditable person to be tried by his peers, in a case affecting
character, for instance, and here we have it set up as a court of the
last resort, to settle points of law!"
"I see it has just made a decision in a libel suit, at which the
profession sneers."
"It has, indeed. Now look at that very decision, for instance, as the
measure of its knowledge. An editor of a newspaper holds up a literary
man to the world as one anxious to obtain a small sum of money, in order
to put it into Wall Street, for 'shaving purposes.' Now, the only
material question raised was the true signification of the word
'shaving.' If to say a man is a 'shaver,' in the sense in which it is
applied to the use of money, be bringing him into discredit, then was
the plaintiff's declaration sufficient; if not, it was insufficient,
being wanting in what is called an 'innuendo.' The dictionaries, and men
in general, understand by 'shaving,' 'extortion,' and nothing else. To
call a man a 'shaver' is to say he is an 'extortioner,' without going
into details. But, in Wall Street, and among money-dealers, certain
transactions that, in their eyes, and by the courts, are not deemed
discreditable, have of late been brought within the category of
'shaving.' Thus it is technically, or by convention among bankers,
termed 'shaving' if a man buy a note at less than its face, which is a
legal transaction. On the strength of this last circumstance, _as is set
forth in the published opinions_, the highest Court of Appeals in New
York has decided that it does not bring a man into discredit to say he
is a 'shaver!'--thus making a conventional signification of the brokers
of Wall Street higher authority for the use of the English tongue than
the standard lexicographers, and all the rest of those who use the
language! On the same principle, if a set of pickpockets at the Five
Points, should choose to mystify their trade a little by including in
the term 'to filch' the literal _borrowing_ of a pocket-handkerchief, it
would not be a libel to accuse a citizen of 'filching his neighbor's
handkerchief!'"
"But the libel was uttered to the _world_, and not to the brokers of
Wall Street only, who might possibly understand their own terms."
"Very true; and was uttered in a newspaper that carried the falsehood to
Europe; for the writer of the charge, when brought up for it, publicly
admitted that he had no ground for suspecting the literary man of any
such practices. _He_ called it a '_joke_.' Every line of the context,
however, showed it was a malicious charge. The decision is very much as
if a man who is sued for accusing another of 'stealing' should set up a
defence that he meant 'stealing' hearts, for the word is sometimes used
in _that_ sense. When men use epithets that convey discredit in their
general meaning, it is their business to give them a special
signification in their own contexts, if such be their real intention.
But I much question if there be a respectable money-dealer, even in Wall
Street, who would not swear, if called on in a court of justice so to
do, that _he_ thought the general charge of 'shaving' discreditable to
any man."
"And you think the landlords whose rents were taxed, sir, would have a
moral right to resist?"
"Beyond all question; as it would be an income-tax on them only of all
in the country. What is more, I am fully persuaded that two thousand men
embodied to resist such tyranny would look down the whole available
authority of the State; inasmuch as I do not believe citizens could be
found to take up arms to enforce a law so flagrantly unjust. Men will
look on passively and see wrongs inflicted, that would never come out to
support them by their own acts. But we are approaching the farm, and
there are Tom Miller and his hired men waiting our arrival."
It is unnecessary to repeat, in detail, all that passed in this our
second visit to the farm-house. Miller received us in a friendly manner,
and offered us a bed, if we would pass the night with him. This business
of _a_ bed had given us more difficulty than anything else in the course
of our peregrinations. New York has long got over the "two-man" and
"three-man bed" system, as regards its best inns. At no respectable New
York inn is a gentleman now asked to share even his room, without an
apology and a special necessity, with another, much less his bed; but
the rule does not hold good as respects pedlers and music-grinders. We
had ascertained that we were not only expected to share the same bed,
but to occupy that bed in a room filled with other beds. There are
certain things that get to be second nature, and that no masquerading
will cause to go down; and, among others, one gets to dislike sharing
his room and his tooth-brush. This little difficulty gave us more
trouble that night at Tom Miller's than anything we had yet encountered.
At the taverns, bribes had answered our purpose; but this would not do
so well at a farm residence. At length the matter was got along with by
putting me in the garret, where I was favored with a straw bed under my
own roof, the decent Mrs. Miller making many apologies for not having a
feather-smootherer, into which to "squash" me. I did not tell the good
woman that I never used feathers, summer or winter; for, had I done so,
she would have set me down as a poor creature from "oppressed" Germany,
where the "folks" did not know how to live. Nor would she have been so
much out of the way _quoad_ the beds, for in all my journeyings I never
met with such uncomfortable sleeping as one finds in Germany, off the
Rhine and out of the large towns.[23]
[Footnote 23: As the "honorable gentleman from Albany" does not seem to
understand the precise signification of "provincial," I can tell him
that one sign of such a character is to admire a bed at an American
country inn.--EDITOR.]
While the negotiation was in progress I observed that Josh Brigham, as
the anti-rent disposed hireling of Miller's was called, kept a watchful
eye and an open ear on what was done and said. Of all men on earth, the
American of that class is the most "distrustful," as he calls it
himself, and has his suspicions the soonest awakened. The Indian on the
war-path--the sentinel who is posted in a fog, near his enemy, an hour
before the dawn of day--the husband that is jealous, or the priest that
has become a partisan, is not a whit more apt to fancy, conjecture, or
assert, than the American of that class who has become "distrustful."
This fellow, Brigham, was the very _beau ideal_ of the suspicious
school, being envious and malignant, as well as shrewd, observant, and
covetous. The very fact that he was connected with the "Injins," as
turned out to be the case, added to his natural propensities the
consciousness of guilt, and rendered him doubly dangerous. The whole
time my uncle and myself were crossing over and figuring in, in order to
procure for each a room, though it were only a closet, his watchful,
distrustful looks denoted how much he saw in our movements to awaken
curiosity, if not downright suspicion. When all was over, he followed me
to the little lawn in front of the house, whither I had gone to look at
the familiar scene by the light of the setting sun, and began to betray
the nature of his own suspicions by his language.
"The old man" (meaning my uncle Ro) "must have plenty of gold watches
about him," he said, "to be so plaguy partic'lar consarnin' his bed.
Peddlin' sich matters is a ticklish trade, I guess, in some parts?"
"Ja; it ist dangerous somevhere, but it might not be so in dis goot
coontry."
"Why did the old fellow, then, try so hard to get that little room all
to himself, and shove you off into the garret? We hired men don't like
the garret, which is a hot place in summer."
"In Charmany one man hast ever one bed," I answered, anxious to get rid
of the subject.
I bounced a little, as "one has one-half of a bed" would be nearer to
the truth, though the other half might be in another room.
"Oh! that's it, is't? Wa-a-l, every country has its ways, I s'pose.
Jarmany is a desp'ate aristocratic land, I take it."
"Ja; dere ist moch of de old feudal law, and feudal coostum still
remaining in Charmany."
"Landlords a plenty, I guess, if the truth was known. Leases as long as
my arm, I calkerlate?"
"Vell, dey do dink, in Charmany, dat de longer might be de lease, de
better it might be for de denant."
As that was purely a German sentiment, or at least not an American
sentiment, according to the notions broached by statesmen among
ourselves, I made it as Dutch as possible by garnishing it well with
d's.
"That's a droll idee! Now, we think, here, that a lease is a bad thing;
and the less you have of a bad thing, the better."
"Vell, dat _ist_ queer, so queer as I don't know! Vhat vill dey do as
might help it?"
"Oh! the legislature will set it all right. They mean to pass a law to
prevent any more leases at all."
"Und vill de beople stand dat? Dis ist a free country, efferybody dells
me, and vilt der beoples agree not to hire lands if dey vants to?"
"Oh! you see we wish to choke the landlords off from their present
leases; and, by and by, when _that_ is done, the law can let up again."
"But ist dat right? Der law should be joost, und not hold down und let
oop, as you calls it."
"You don't understand us yet, I see. Why that's the prettiest and the
neatest legislation on airth! That's just what the bankrupt law did."
"Vhat did her bankroopt law do, bray? Vhat might you mean now?--I don't
know."
"Do! why, it did wonders for some on us, I can tell you! It paid our
debts, and let us up when we was down; and that's no trifle, I can tell
you. I took 'the benefit,' as it is called, myself."
"You!--you might take der benefit of a bankrupt law! You, lifing here
ast a hiret man, on dis farm!"
"Sartain; why not? All a man wanted under _that_ law was about $60 to
carry him through the mill; and if he could rake and scrape that much
together, he might wipe off as long a score as he pleased. I had been
dealin' in speckylation, and that's a make or break business, I can tell
you. Well, I got to be about $423.22 wuss than nothin'; but, having
about $90 in hand, I went through the mill without getting cogged the
smallest morsel! A man doos a good business, to my notion, when he can
make twenty cents pay a whull dollar of debt."
"Und you did dat goot business?"
"You may say that; and now I means to make anti-rentism get me a farm
cheap--what _I_ call cheap; and that an't none of your $30 or $40 an
acre, I can tell you!"
It was quite clear that Mr. Joshua Brigham regarded these transactions
as so many Pragmatic Sanctions, that were to clear the moral and legal
atmospheres of any atoms of difficulty that might exist in the forms of
old opinions, to his getting easily out of debt, in the one case, and
suddenly rich in the other. I dare say I looked bewildered, but I
certainly felt so, at thus finding myself face to face with a low knave,
who had a deliberate intention, as I now found, to rob me of a farm. It
is certain that Joshua so imagined, for, inviting me to walk down the
road with him a short distance, he endeavored to clear up any moral
difficulties that might beset me, by pursuing the subject.
"You see," resumed Joshua, "I will tell you how it is. These Littlepages
have had this land long enough, and it's time to give poor folks a
chance. The young spark that pretends to own all the farms you see, far
and near, never _did_ anything for 'em in his life; only to be his
father's son. Now, to my notion, a man should do suthin' for his land,
and not be obligated for it to mere natur'. This is a free country, and
what right has one man to land more than another?"
"Or do his shirt, or do his dobacco, or do his coat, or do anyding
else."
"Well, I don't go as far as that. A man has a right to his clothes, and
maybe to a horse, or a cow, but he has no right to all the land in
creation. The law gives a right to a cow as ag'in' execution."
"Und doesn't der law gif a right to der landt, too? You must not depend
on der law, if you might succeed."
"We like to get as much law as we can on our side. Americans like law:
now, you'll read in all the books--_our_ books, I mean, them that's
printed here--that the Americans be the most lawful people on airth, and
that they'll do more for the law than any other folks known!"
"Vell, dat isn't vhat dey says of der Americans in Europe; nein, nein,
dey might not say dat."
"Why, don't you think it is so? Don't you think this the greatest
country on airth, and the most lawful?"
"Vell, I don'ts know. Das coontry ist das coontry, und it ist vhat it
ist, you might see."
"Yes; I thought you would be of my way of thinking, when we got to
understand each other." Nothing is easier than to mislead an American on
the estimate foreigners place on them: in this respect they are the most
deluded people living, though, in other matters, certainly among the
shrewdest. "That's the way with acquaintances, at first; they don't
always understand one another: and then you talk a little thick, like.
But now, friend, I'll come to the p'int--but first swear you'll not
betray me."
"Ja, ja--I oonderstandst; I most schwear I won't bedray you: das ist
goot."
"But, hold up your hand. Stop; of what religion be you?"
"Gristian, to be sure. I might not be a Chew. Nein, nein; I am a ferry
vat Gristian."
"We are all bad enough, for that matter; but I lay no stress on _that_.
A little of the devil in a man helps him along, in this business of
ourn. But you must be suthin' more than a Christian, I s'pose, as we
don't call _that_ bein' of any religion at all, in this country. Of what
_supportin_' religion be you?"
"Soobortin'; vell, I might not oonderstands dat. Vhat is soobortin'
religion? Coomes dat vrom Melanchton und Luther?--or coomes it vrom der
Pope? Vhat ist dat soobortin' religion?"
"Why, what religion do you _patronize_? Do you patronize the standin'
order, or the kneelin' order?--or do you patronize neither? Some folks
thinks its best to lie down at prayer, as the least likely to divart the
thoughts."
"I might not oonderstand. But nefer mindt der religion, und coome to der
p'int dat you mentioned."
"Well, that p'int is this. You're a Jarman, and can't like aristocrats,
and so I'll trust you; though, if you do betray me, you'll never play on
another bit of music in this country, or any other! If you want to be an
Injin, as good an opportunity will offer to-morrow as ever fell in a
man's way?"
"An Injin! Vhat goot vill it do to be an Injin? I dought it might be
better to be a vhite man, in America?"
"Oh! I mean only an anti-rent Injin. We've got matters so nicely fixed
now, that a chap can be an Injin without any paint at all, or any
washin' or scrubbin', but can convart himself into himself ag'in, at any
time, in two minutes. The wages is good and the work light; then we have
rare chances in the stores, and round about among the farms. The law is,
that an Injin must have what he wants, and no grumblin', and we take
care to want enough. If you'll be at the meetin', I'll tell you how
you'll know me."
"Ja, ja--dat ist goot; I vill be at der meetin', sartainly. Vhere might
it be?"
"Down at the village. The word came up this a'ternoon, and we shall all
be on the ground by ten o'clock."
"Vilt der be a fight, dat you meet so bunctually, and wid so moch
spirit?"
"Fight! Lord, no; who is there to fight, I should like to know? We are
pretty much all ag'in the Littlepages, and there's none of them on the
ground but two or three women. I'll tell you how it's all settled. The
meetin' is called on the deliberative and liberty-supportin' plan. I
s'pose you know we've all sorts of meetin's in this country?"
"Nein; I dought dere might be meetin's for bolitics, vhen der beople
might coome, but I don't know vhat else."
"Is't possible! What, have you no 'indignation meetin's' in Jarmany? We
count a great deal on our indignation meetin's, and both sides have 'em
in abundance, when things get to be warm. Our meetin' to-morrow is for
deliberation and liberty-principles generally. We may pass some
indignation resolutions about aristocrats, for nobody can bear them
critturs in this part of the country, I can tell you."
Lest this manuscript should get into the hands of some of those who do
not understand the real condition of New York society, it may be well to
explain that "aristocrat" means, in the parlance of the country, no
other than a man of gentleman-like tastes, habits, opinions, and
associations. There are gradations among the aristocracy of the State,
as well as among other men. Thus he who is an aristocrat in a hamlet,
would be very democratic in a village; and he of the village might be no
aristocrat in the town, at all; though, in the towns generally, indeed
always, when their population has the least of a town character, the
distinction ceases altogether, men quietly dropping into the traces of
civilized society, and talking or thinking very little about it. To see
the crying evils of American aristocracy, then, one must go into the
country. There, indeed, a plenty of cases exist. Thus, if there happen
to be a man whose property is assessed at twenty-five per cent. above
that of all his neighbors--who must have right on his side bright as a
cloudless sun to get a verdict, if obliged to appeal to the laws--who
pays fifty per cent. more for everything he buys, and receives fifty per
cent. less for everything he sells, than any other person near him--who
is surrounded by rancorous enemies, in the midst of a seeming state of
peace--who has everything he says and does perverted, and added to, and
lied about--who is traduced because his dinner-hour is later than that
of "other folks"--who don't stoop, but is straight in the back--who
presumes to doubt that this country in general, and his own township in
particular, is the focus of civilization--who hesitates about signing
his name to any flagrant instance of ignorance, bad taste, or worse
morals, that his neighbors may get up in the shape of a petition,
remonstrance, or resolution--depend on it that man is a prodigious
aristocrat, and one who, for his many offences and manner of lording it
over mankind, deserves to be banished. I ask the reader's pardon for so
abruptly breaking in upon Joshua's speech, but such very different
notions exist about aristocrats, in different parts of the world, that
some such explanation was necessary in order to prevent mistakes. I have
forgotten one mark of the tribe that is, perhaps, more material than all
the rest, which must not be omitted, and is this:--if he happen to be a
man who prefers his own pursuits to public life, and is regardless of
"popularity," he is just guilty of the unpardonable sin. The "people"
will forgive anything sooner than this; though there are "folks" who
fancy it as infallible a sign of an aristocrat not to chew tobacco. But,
unless I return to Joshua, the reader will complain that I cause him to
stand still.
"No, no," continued Mr. Brigham; anything but an aristocrat for me. I
hate the very name of the sarpents, and wish there warn't one in the
land. To-morrow we are to have a great anti-rent lecturer out----"
"A vhat?"
"A lecturer; one that lectur's, you understand, on anti-rentism,
temperance, aristocracy, government, or any other grievance that may
happen to be uppermost. Have you no lecturers in Jarmany?"
"Ja, ja; dere ist lecturers in das universities--blenty of dem."
"Well, we have 'em universal and partic'lar, as we happen to want 'em.
To-morrow we're to have one, they tell me, the smartest man that has
appeared in the cause. He goes it strong, and the Injins mean to back
him up with all sorts of shrieks and whoopin's. Your hurdy-gurdy, there,
makes no sort of music to what our tribe can make when we fairly open
our throats."
"Vell, dis ist queer! I vast told dat der Americans vast all
philosophers, und dat all dey didt vast didt in a t'oughtful and sober
manner; und now you dells me dey screams deir arguments like Injins!"
"That we do! I wish you'd been here in the hard-cider and log-cabin
times, and you'd a seen reason and philosophy, as you call it! I was a
whig that summer, though I went democrat last season. There's about five
hundred on us in this country that makes the most of things, I can tell
you. What's the use of a vote, if a body gets nothin' by it? But
to-morrow you'll see the business done up, and matters detarmined for
this part of the world, in fine style. We know what we're about, and we
mean to carry things through quite to the end."
"Und vhat do you means to do?"
"Well, seein' that you seem to be of the right sort, and be so likely to
put on the Injin shirt, I'll tell you all about it. We mean to get good
and old farms at favorable rates. That's what we mean to do. The
people's up and in 'arnest, and what the people want they'll have! This
time they want farms, and farms they must have. What's the use of havin'
a government of the people, if the people's obliged to want farms? We've
begun ag'in' the Rensselaers, and the durables, and the quarter-sales,
and the chickens; but we don't, by no manner of means, think of eending
there. What should we get by that? A man wants to get suthin' when he
puts his foot into a matter of this natur'. We know who's our fri'nds
and who's our inimies! Could we have some men I could name for
governors, all would go clear enough the first winter. We would tax the
landlords out, and law 'em about in one way and another, so as to make
'em right down glad to sell the last rod of their lands, and that cheap,
too!"
"Und who might own these farms, all oop and down der coontry, dat I
see?"
"As the law now stands, Littlepage owns 'em; but if we alter the law
enough, he wun't. If we can only work the legislature up to the stickin'
p'int, we shall get all we want. Would you believe it, the man wun't
sell a single farm, they say; but wishes to keep every one on 'em for
himself! Is that to be borne in a free country? They'd hardly stand that
in Jarmany, I'm thinkin'. A man that is such an aristocrat as to refuse
to sell anything, I despise."
"Vell, dey stand to der laws in Charmany, and broperty is respected in
most coontries. You vouldn't do away wid der rights of broperty, if you
mights, I hopes?"
"Not I. If a man owns a watch, or a horse, or a cow, I'm for having the
law such that a poor man can keep 'em, even ag'in execution. We're
getting the laws pretty straight on them p'ints, in old York, I can tell
you; a poor man, let him be ever so much in debt, can hold on to a
mighty smart lot of things, nowadays, and laugh at the law right in its
face! I've known chaps that owed as much as $200, hold on to as good as
$300; though most of their debts was for the very things they held on
to!"
What a picture is this, yet is it not true? A state of society in which
a man can contract a debt for a cow, or his household goods, and laugh
at his creditor when he seeks his pay, on the one hand; and on the
other, legislators and executives lending themselves to the chicanery of
another set, that are striving to deprive a particular class of its
rights of property, directly in the face of written contracts! This is
straining at the gnat and swallowing the camel, with a vengeance; and
all for votes! Does any one really expect a community can long exist,
favored by a wise and justice-dispensing Providence, in which such
things are coolly attempted--ay, and coolly done? It is time that the
American began to see things as they are, and not as they are _said_ to
be, in the speeches of governors, Fourth-of-July orations, and
electioneering addresses. I write warmly, I know, but I feel warmly; and
I write like a man who sees that a most flagitious attempt to rob him is
tampered with by some in power, instead of being met, as the boasted
morals and intelligence of the country would require, by the stern
opposition of all in authority. Curses--deep, deep curses--ere long,
will fall on all who shrink from their duty in such a crisis. Even the
very men who succeed, if succeed they should, will, in the end, curse
the instruments of their own success.[24]
[Footnote 24: That Mr. Hugh Littlepage does not feel or express himself
too strongly on the state of things that has now existed among us for
long, long years, the following case, but one that illustrates the
melancholy truth among many, will show. At a time when the tenants of an
extensive landlord, to whom tens of thousands were owing for rent, were
openly resisting the law, and defeating every attempt to distrain,
though two ordinary companies of even armed constables would have put
them down, the sheriff entered the house of that very landlord, and
levied on his furniture for debt. Had that gentleman, on the just and
pervading principle that he owed no allegiance to an authority that did
not protect him, resisted the sheriff's officer, _he_ would have gone to
the State's prison; and there he might have staid until his last hour of
service was expended.--EDITOR.]
"A first-rate lecturer on feudal tenors" (Joshua was not in the least
particular in his language, but, in the substance, he knew what he was
talking about as well as some who are in high places), "chickens and
days' works. We expect a great deal from this man, who is paid well for
coming."
"Und who might bay him?--der State?"
"No--we haven't got to that _yet_; though some think the State will
_have_ to do it, in the long run. At present the tenants are taxed so
much on the dollar, accordin' to rent, or so much an acre, and that way
the needful money is raised. But one of our lecturers told us, a time
back, that it was money put out at use, and every man ought to keep an
account of what he give, for the time was not far off when he would get
it back, with double interest. 'It is paid now for a reform,' he said,
'and when the reform is obtained, no doubt the State would feel itself
so much indebted to us all, that it would tax the late landlords until
we got all our money back again, and more too.'"
"Dat vould pe a bretty speculation; ja, dat might be most bootiful!"
"Why, yes, it wouldn't be a bad operation, living on the inimy, as a
body might say. But you'll not catch our folks livin' on themselves, I
can tell you. That they might do without societies. No, we've an object;
and when folks has an object, they commonly look sharp a'ter it. We
don't let on all we want and mean openly; and you'll find folks among us
that'll stoutly deny that anti-renters has anything to do with the Injin
system; but folks an't obliged to believe the moon is _all_ cheese,
unless they've a mind to. Some among us maintain that no man ought to
hold more than a thousand acres of land, while others think natur' has
laid down the law on that p'int, and that a man shouldn't hold more than
he has need on."
"Und vich side dost you favor?--vich of dese obinions might not be
yours?"
"I'm not partic'lar, so I get a good farm. I should like one with
comfortable buildin's on't, and one that hasn't been worked to death.
For them two principles I think I'd stand out; but, whether there be
four hundred acres, or four hundred and fifty, or even five hundred, I'm
no way onaccommodatin'. I expect there'll be trouble in the eend, when
we come to the division, but I'm not the man to make it. I s'pose I
shall get my turn at the town offices, and other chances, and, givin' me
my rights to them, I'll take up with almost any farm young Littlepage
has, though I should rather have one in the main valley here, than one
more out of the way; still, I don't set myself down as at all
partic'lar."
"Und vhat do you expect to bay Mr. Littlepage for der farm, ast you
might choose?"
"That depends on circumstances. The Injins mainly expect to come in
cheap. Some folks think it's best to pay suthin', as it might stand
ag'in law better, should it come to that; while other some see no great
use in paying anything. Them that's willing to pay, mainly hold out for
paying the principal of the first rents."
"I doesn't oonderstandt vhat you means by der brincipal of der first
rents."
"It's plain enough, when you get the lay on't. You see, these lands were
let pretty low, when they were first taken up from the forest, in order
to get folks to live here. That's the way we're obliged to do in
America, or people won't come. Many tenants paid no rent at all for six,
eight, or ten years; and a'ter that, until their three lives run out, as
it is called, they paid only sixpence an acre, or six dollars and a
quarter on the hundred acres. That was done, you see, to buy men to come
here at all; and you can see by the price that was paid, how hard a time
they must have had on't. Now, some of our folks hold that the whull time
ought to be counted--that which was rent free, and that which was
not--in a way that I'll explain to you; for I'd have you to know I
haven't entered into this business without looking to the right and the
wrong on't."
"Exblain, exblain; I might hear you exblain, and you most exblain."
"Why, you're in a hurry, friend Griezenbach, or whatever your name be.
But I'll explain, if you wish it. S'pose, now, a lease run thirty
years--ten on nothin', and twenty on sixpences. Well, a hundred
sixpences makes fifty shillings, and twenty times fifty makes a
thousand, as all the rent paid in thirty years. If you divide a thousand
by thirty, it leaves thirty-three shillings and a fraction"--Joshua
calculated like an American of his class, accurately and with
rapidity--"for the average rent of the thirty years. Calling
thirty-three shillings four dollars, and it's plaguey little more, we
have that for the interest, which, at seven per cent., will make a
principal of rather more than fifty dollars, though not as much as
sixty. As sich matters ought to be done on liberal principles, they say
Littlepage ought to take fifty dollars, and give a deed for the hundred
acres."
"Und vhat might be der rent of a hoondred acres now:--he might get more
dan sixpence to-day?"
"That he does. Most all of the farms are running out on second, and some
on third leases. Four shilling an acre is about the average of the
rents, accordin' to circumstances."
"Den you dinks der landlort ought to accept one year's rent for der
farms?"
"I don't look on it in that light. He ought to take fifty dollars for a
hundred acres. You forget the tenants have paid for their farms, over
and over again, in rent. They _feel_ as if they have paid enough, and
that it was time to stop."
Extraordinary as this reasoning may seem in most men's minds, I have
since found it is a very favorite sentiment among anti-renters. "Are we
to go on, and pay rent forever?" they ask, with logical and virtuous
indignation!
"Und vhat may be der aferage value of a hoondred acre farm, in dis part
of de coontry?" I inquired.
"From two thousand five hundred to three thousand dollars. It would be
more, but tenants won't put good buildings on farms, you know, seein'
that they don't own them. I heard one of our leaders lamentin' that he
didn't foresee what times were comin' to, when he repaired his old
house, or he would have built a new one. But a man can't foretell
everything. I dare say many has the same feelin's, now."
"Den you dinks Herr Littlebage ought to accept $50 for vhat is worth
$2,500? Das seems fery little."
"You forget the back rent that has been paid, and the work the tenant
has done. What would the farm be good for without the work that has been
done on it?"
"Ja, ja--I oonderstandst; und vhat vould der work be goot for vidout der
landt on which it vast done?"
This was rather an incautious question to put to a man as distrustful
and roguish as Joshua Brigham. The fellow cast a lowering and
distrustful look at me; but ere there was time to answer, Miller, of
whom he stood in healthful awe, called him away to look after the cows.
Here, then, I had enjoyed an opportunity of hearing the opinions of one
of my own hirelings on the interesting subject of my right to my own
estate. I have since ascertained that, while these sentiments are
sedulously kept out of view in the proceedings of the government, which
deals with the whole matter as if the tenants were nothing but martyrs
to hard bargains, and the landlords their taskmasters, of greater or
less lenity, they are extensively circulated in the "infected
districts," and are held to be very sound doctrines by a large number of
the "bone and sinew of the land." Of course the reasoning is varied a
little, to suit circumstances, and to make it meet the facts. But of
this school is a great deal, and a very great deal, of the reasoning
that circulates on the leased property; and, from what I have seen and
heard already, I make no doubt that there are _quasi_ legislators among
us, who, instead of holding the manly and only safe doctrine which ought
to be held on such a subject, and saying that these deluded men should
be taught better, are ready to cite the very fact that such notions do
exist as a reason for the necessity of making concessions, in order to
keep the peace at the cheaper rate. That profound principle of
legislation, which concedes the right in order to maintain quiet, is
admirably adapted to forming sinners; and, if carried out in favor of
all who may happen to covet their neighbors' goods, would, in a short
time, render this community the very paradise of knaves.
As for Joshua Brigham, I saw no more of him that night; for he quitted
the farm on leave, just as it got to be dark. Where he went I do not
know; but the errand on which he left us could no longer be a secret to
me. As the family retired early, and we ourselves were a good deal
fatigued, everybody was in bed by nine o'clock, and, judging from
myself, soon asleep. Previously to saying "good-night," however, Miller
told us of the meeting of the next day, and of his intention to attend
it.