EXCITEMENT PRODUCED BY THE THOROUGH BLUE WHOLE
TEAM--MEETING OF THE NEW LIGHT--JESSE FERRET'S
AMBIDEXTERITY--INTRODUCTION OF ELIPHALET FOX TO THE
CLUB--HIS EXPOSITION OF PRINCIPLES--ESTABLISHMENT OF THE
QUODLIBET WHOLE HOG.
Soon after the time referred to in the last chapter--that is, when we
were favored by Mr. Flam with his views on the banking system--there was
a question of the most profound interest in agitation, both in the
New-Light Club and out of it; that question was the establishment of a
newspaper. The Quodlibetarian Democracy were, I am sorry to inform my
reader, most sorely and wantonly assailed, indeed I may say insulted, by
an hebdomadal sheet which, through the aid, or, more properly speaking,
_the abuse_ of the post-office (for surely it was not the original
design of that institution to afford the means of corrupting the people
by the dissemination of such moral poisons) was distributed among sundry
of our citizens, and even put upon the files of one of our public
houses. I do not scruple to name the house--that of Jesse Ferret--Jesse
being at this time a little amphibious in his politics, or, in Mr. Fog's
expressive language, _rather fishy_. The paper to which I allude was
published at Thorough Blue Court-House, a perfect hotbed of contumacious
opposition, situate about fifty miles due west from Quodlibet. It was
called "THE THOROUGH BLUE WHOLE TEAM," and was edited by Augustus
Postlethwaite Tompkinson, an inchoate lawyer, who had set up for a poet,
and whose sentiments were of the most dangerous Whig complexion. This
paper was constantly filled with extracts of the ravings of Whig members
of Congress against our admirable system of banking, and had gone to
such an extreme of rashness, as to denominate that splendid measure of
the purest and wisest statesman of the age--my reader perceives I mean
Mr. Benton--for the introduction of the gold currency, a humbug! But
this was not all; the unprincipled editor of that reckless journal had
actually so far forgotten all the decencies of civilized society, had
become so callous to the cause of virtue and truth, as to launch his
puny thunderbolts at the fair fame of the Hon. Middleton Flam. He was
ridiculed as a pretender! he was nicknamed a charlatan!! and the
unbridled license of this unsparing defamer did not stop short of
denouncing him as a Federalist!!! All Quodlibet--that is, all who
possessed the soul of Quodlibetarians--raised up their hands at the
political impiety of this libel. A spontaneous burst of feeling
indicated the deep sentiment which called for immediate action on the
subject. For a full week, the New Light was in a state of paroxysm. The
club met every night. Nicodemus Handy was there; Fog was there; Nim
Porter was there; Snuffers and Doubleday, Doctor Winkleman and Zachary
Younghusband, recently appointed postmaster of the Borough, were there.
Every thorough-bred Quod, even down to Flan. Sucker, was there. Jesse
Ferret, I have already said, was fishy. I regret to say it, but it is
true. Jesse, bending to the suppleness of the times, and forgetting a
patriot's duty, which is first and foremost above all things to stick to
his party, pleaded his public calling to excuse his vacillation, and
even went so far as to say that "a publican should have no politics." Oh
shame, where is thy blush! Not so with Nim Porter;--his soul towered
above the bar-room; he would bet all he was worth on the side of his
party. Everybody in Quodlibet knows how free Nim always was with his
bets.
The decisive meeting of the club took place in the dining-room of
Ferret's tavern. Nicodemus Handy did not often attend the meetings of
the club: we looked to him rather for head work, for he was not the best
of public speakers; but on the night of this assemblage he made it a
point to be present. Mr. Handy is rather a short, fat man; his head is
partially bald, his face is smooth and fair, his dress was always
remarked for being of the best material, put on in the neatest
manner--in short, Mr. Handy is a first-rate gentleman. I am particular
in noting these matters, because THE WHOLE TEAM was in the habit of
bragging that "all the decency" was on his side. Now I would challenge
Thorough Blue Court-House, and the settlement ten miles around it--the
whole region is Whig--to produce one man among them to compare either
with the Hon. Middleton Flam or Nicodemus Handy. And I would take this
occasion further to remark, in refutation of THE WHOLE TEAM'S calumny
touching "all the decency," that the true Quodlibetarian Democrats have
as great a respect for appearance, and as profound a spirit of
assentation and regard toward a man of wealth, as the people of any
country upon earth: if anything, our tip-top Quods carry rather a higher
head than the richest Whigs in these parts, and any dispassionate man
who will examine into the matter will say so.
Snuffers was in the chair. The members of the club did not sit down:
they were too much agitated to sit down. As soon as I, in my character
of Secretary, read the minutes of the preceding meeting, Mr. Handy rose,
and after some very appropriate remarks delivered in a modest fashion,
(in which he assured the club that he was unaccustomed to public
speaking and moreover oppressed by the intensity of his feelings in
regard to the recent attack on his friend, the Hon. Middleton Flam, and
in a slight degree agitated in the presence of this most respectable
assemblage of Quods,) came at once to the point. "Who," he asked, "was
Augustus Postlethwaite Tompkinson? His name told you who he was--an
aristocrat, a poet, a sentimentalizer, _a dealer in fiction_! What was
his calling? A pander, a pimp, a professional reviler of great and
good men. What was his paper? That sink of infamy--THE WHOLE
TEAM--twenty-four by eighteen, with a poet's corner, and an outside
stuffed with a few beggarly advertisements. Would gentlemen submit to be
led by the nose by a thing like that, twenty-four by eighteen?"
"Never," cried out Flanigan Sucker, who stood in the doorway, just
behind Nim Porter--"will we, Nim?"
"Silence," said Mr. Snuffers.
"If gentlemen have my feelings of indignation on this subject,"
continued Mr. Handy, "they will concur with me in establishing a paper
of our own."
"Go it, Nicodemus!" shouted Flan. Sucker, very indecorously putting in
his word a second time.
Thereupon arose some confusion in the club, and Flan., being found upon
examination to be muddled with liquor, was requested to retire; and not
being very prompt to obey this invitation, he was turned out.
Mr. Handy then proceeded. "Gentlemen," said he, "a paper we must have,
and I feel happy in the opportunity to introduce to your acquaintance a
good friend of our cause, who is here present to-night, and who, under
the auspices of this club, is willing to undertake the responsible duty
of supplying this so much desiderated object. I beg leave to present to
you Mr. Eliphalet Fox, a gentleman long connected with the press in a
neighboring State, and who is prepared to submit to you his scheme."
Upon this a stranger, who had been seated in a back part of the room,
wrapped up in a green camlet cloak with plaid lining, which I may add
had apparently seen much service, stepped forward, and, disrobing
himself of this outer garment, stood full before the President. He was a
thin, faded little fellow, whose clothes seemed to be somewhat too large
for him. His eye was gray and rather dull, his physiognomy melancholy,
his cheek sunken, his complexion freckled, his coat blue, the buttons
dingy, his hair sandy, and like untwisted rope. The first glance at the
person of this new-comer gave every man of the club the assurance that
here was an editor indeed. A whisper of approbation ran through the
crowd, and from that moment, as Mr. Doubleday afterward said to me, we
felt assured that we had the man we wanted.
"Mr. President," said he, in a feeble and sickly voice, "my name _is_
Fox. I am in want of employment. Sir," he added, gritting his teeth and
taking an attitude, "if the rancor of my soul, accumulated by
maltreatment, set on edge by disappointment, indurated by time, entitle
me to claim your confidence, then, sir, my claim stands number one. If a
thorough knowledge, sir, of the characteristic traits of Federalism,
long acquaintance with its designs, persecution, sir, from its votaries,
a deep experience of its black ingratitude; if days of toil spent in its
service, nights of feverish anxiety protracted in ruminating over its
purposes; if promises violated, hopes blasted, labors unrewarded, may be
deemed a stimulus to hatred--then, sir, am I richly endowed with the
qualifications to expose the enemies of Quodlibetarian Democracy. I am a
child, sir, of sorrow: the milk of my nature has been curdled by
neglect. Mine is a history of talents underrated, sensibilities derided,
patriotism spurned, affluence, nay competence, withheld. The world has
turned me aside. I have no resting place on the bosom of my mother.
Society, like a demon, pursues me. Writs in the hands of the sheriff,
judgments on the docket, _fi. fas._ and _ca. sas._ track my footsteps.
No limitation runs in my favor: the _scire facias_, ever ready, revives
the inhuman judgment, and my second shirt--my first is in rags--is
stripped from my body to glut the avarice of my relentless pursuers.
Thank God, I have at last found a friend in that distinguished man who
has been so ruthlessly, so recently assailed, by that fledgling of the
aristocracy, Augustus Postlethwaite Tompkinson. Yes, sir, in the Hon.
Middleton Flam I have found a friend. He has given me letters to this
benevolent gentleman, Mr. Handy; he has recommended my establishment
here; he promises to co-operate with this respectable club in giving me
a foothold among you. With her Flams and her Handys, Quodlibet is
destined to an enviable influence in this great Republic." (Here he was
interrupted by loud cheers.) "My scheme is, Mr. President, with the aid
of this club, and that of the benefactors I have named, forthwith
to start THE QUODLIBET WHOLE HOG. It shall take a decided and
uncompromising stand against THE THOROUGH BLUE WHOLE TEAM, (here he was
again arrested by cheers;) pledged to contradict every word uttered by
that vile print, (cheers;) to traduce and bring down its editor by the
most systematic disparagement, (cheers;) to disprove all Whig
assertions; unfailingly to take the opposite side on all questions;
industriously to lower the standing of the members of the Whig party,
(immense cheers;) through thick and thin, good report and evil report,
for better and for worse, to defend and sustain the administration of
the new President, who is about to take his seat, that incomparable
Democrat of the genuine Quodlibetarian stamp, Martin Van Buren, (at this
point the cheering continued for some moments, with such violence that
the speaker had to suspend his remarks;) and finally, sir, to commend,
exalt, and illustrate the character and pretensions of our unrivaled
friend Mr. Flam, (immense cheering,) giving utterance to his sentiments,
preponderance to his opinions, authority to his advice on all proper and
suitable occasions, (loud cheering for a long time.) In short, sir, The
Whole Hog shall be what its name imports, a faithful mirror of the
Democracy of Quodlibet. Its publication shall be weekly; its size,
twenty-six by twenty, having the advantage over the Whole Team by full
two inches each way. There, sir, is an outline of my sentiments and
proposed paper." Mr. Fox concluded this address in the midst of a
congratulatory uproar, altogether unprecedented in the club.
Seizing upon the enthusiasm of the moment, and being rather fearful
that Fog would attempt to make a speech, which that gentleman's
condition would have rendered extremely improper at this hour, Mr. Handy
immediately offered a resolution for the establishment of the Whole Hog,
and its adoption as the organ of the party, on the principles proposed
by Mr. Fox. This was carried by acclamation; and the members without
further discussion adjourned to the bar-room, where Nim Porter offered a
bet--and not finding any one to take him up, continued to offer it
during the evening--of fifty dollars to twenty-five, or one hundred to
fifty, that Eliphalet Fox would run Augustus Postlethwaite Tompkinson's
Whole Team out of Quodlibet in six months from that day:--that there
would not be but two copies of the Whole Team taken in the Borough, and
that one of them would be Michael Grant's out at the Hogback:--"for,"
said Nim, with an oath, which I will not repeat--"I can see it in that
Liphlet Fox's eye; if he isn't a gouger when his bile's fresh, there
aint nothing in Lavender on Physiology, or Fowler on the Shape of
Heads."