those seasons when the exigencies of his calling required his constant
attention, he spent but little of his time at his own fireside. He
absented himself _until_ his home became strange and uncomfortable to
him: and he then did the same, _because_ it had become so. Every man who
may try the experiment will discover that these circumstances mutually
aggravate each other--are, interchangeably, cause and effect. His
children were, however, always numerous, scarcely ever falling below
half-a-dozen, and not unfrequently doubling that allowance. They
generally appeared upon the stage in rapid succession--one had scarcely
time to get out of the way, before another was pushing him from his
place. The peevishness thus begotten in the mother--by the constant
habit of nursing cross cherubs--though it diminished the amount of
family peace, contributed, in another way, to the general welfare: it
induced the father to look abroad for enjoyment, and thus gave the
country the benefit of his wisdom as a political counsellor. Public
spirit, and the consciousness of ability, have "brought out" many
politicians: but uncomfortable homes have produced many more.
He was an oracle on the subject of hunting, and an unerring judge of
whiskey--to both which means of enjoyment he was strongly attached. He
was careful, however, neither to hunt nor drink in solitude, for even
his amusements were subservient to his political interests. To hunt
alone was a waste of time, while drinking alone was a loss of
good-fellowship, upon which much of his influence was founded. He was
particularly attached to parties of half-a-dozen, or more; for in such
companions, his talents were always conspicuous. Around a burgou[83]
pot, or along the trenches of an impromptu barbecue, he shone in
meridian splendor; and the approving smack of his lips, over a bottle of
"backwoods' nectar," was the seal of the judgment which gave character
to the liquor.
"Militia musters" were days in his calendar, "marked with a
white-stone;" for it was upon these occasions that he appeared in his
utmost magnificence. His grade was never lower than that of colonel, and
it not unfrequently extended to, or even beyond, the rank of
brigadier-general. It was worth "a sabbath-day's journey" on foot, to
witness one of these parades; for I believe that all the annals of the
burlesque do not furnish a more amusing caricature of the "pomp and
circumstance" of war. Compared to one of those militia regiments,
Falstaff's famous corps, whose appearance was so unmilitary as to
prevent even that liberal-minded gentleman from marching through
Coventry in their company, was a model of elegance and discipline.
Sedeno's cavalry in the South American wars, though their uniform
consisted only of "leggings," a pair of spurs, and a Spanish blanket,
had more the aspect of a regular _corps d'armee_ than these! A mob of
rustics was never armed with a more extensive variety of weapons; and no
night's "haul" of a recruiting sergeant's net, ever made a more
disorderly appearance, when mustered in the morning for inspection.
The "citizen-soldier" knew no more about "dressing the line," than about
dressing himself, and the front of his company presented as many
inequalities as a "worm-fence." Tall men and short men--beaver hats and
raccoon-skin caps--rusty firelocks and long corn-stalks--stiff brogans
and naked feet--composed the grand display. There were as many officers
as men, and each was continually commanding and instructing his
neighbor, but never thinking of himself. At the command "Right dress!"
(when the officer _par excellence_ knew enough to deliver it) some
looked right, others left--some thrust their heads out before--some
leaned back to get a glimpse behind--and the whole line waved like a
streamer in the wind. "Silence in line!" produced a greater clamor than
ever, for each repeated the command to every other, sending the order
along the ranks like a rolling fire, and not unfrequently enforcing it
with the push of a corn-stalk, or a vigorous elbow-hint. When a movement
was directed, the order reached the men successively, by the same
process of repetition--so that while some files were walking slowly, and
looking back to beckon on their lagging fellow-soldiers, others were
forced to a quick run to regain their places, and the scramble often
continued many minutes after the word "halt!" The longer the parade
lasted, the worse was the drill; and after a tedious day's "muster,"
each man knew less, if possible, of military tactics, than he did in the
morning.
But the most ludicrous part of the display, was the earnest solemnity
with which the politician-colonel endeavored "to lick the mass into
shape." If you had judged only by the expression of his face, you would
have supposed that an invading army was already within our borders, and
that this democratic army was the only hope of patriotism to repel the
foreign foe. And, indeed, it might not be too much to say, that some
such idea actually occupied his mind: for he was so fond of "supposing
cases," that bare possibilities sometimes grew in his mind to actual
realities; and it was a part of his creed, as well as his policy to
preach, that "a nation's best defence" is to be found in "the
undisciplined valor of its citizens." His military maxims were not based
upon the history of such countries as Poland and Spain--and Hungary had
not then added her example to the list. He never understood the relation
between discipline and efficiency; and the doctrine of the "largest
liberty" was so popular, that, on his theory, it must be universally
right. Tempered thus, and modified by some of the tendencies of the
demagogue, his love of military parade amounted to a propensity, a trait
which he shared with most of the people among whom he lived.
The inference from this characteristic, that he possessed what
phrenologists used to call "combativeness," is not unavoidable, though
such was the fact. He was, indeed, quite pugnacious, ready, at all
times, to fight for himself or for his friends, and never with any very
special or discriminating reference to the cause of quarrel. He was,
however, seldom at feud with any one whose enmity could materially
injure him: extensive connections he always conciliated, and every
popular man was his friend. Nor was he compelled, in order to compass
these ends, to descend to any very low arts; for "the people," were not
so fastidious in those days, as they seem since to have become; and a
straightforward sincerity was then the first element of popularity. The
politician was not forced to affect an exemplary "walk and
conversation;" nor was an open declaration of principle or opinion
dangerous to his success.
This liberality in public sentiment had its evils: since, for example,
the politician was not generally the less esteemed for being rather a
hard _swearer_. In the majority of the class, indeed, this amounted only
to an energetic or emphatic mode of expression; and such the people did
not less respect, than if, in the same person, they had had reason to
believe the opposite tone hypocritical. The western people--to their
honor be it written!--were, and are, mortal enemies to everything like
_cant_: though they might regret, that one's morals were no _better_
than they appeared, they were still more grieved, if they found
evidence, that they were _worse_ than they claimed to be.
But, though the politician was really very open and candid in all the
affairs of life, in his own estimation he was a very dexterous and
dangerous intriguer: he often deceived himself into the belief, that the
success, which was in fact the result of his manly candor, was
attributable only to his cunning management. He was always forming, and
attempting to execute, schemes for circumventing his political
opponents; but, if he bore down all opposition, it was _in spite of_ his
chicanery, and not by its assistance. Left-handed courses are never
advantageous "in the long run;" and, perhaps, it would be well if this
lesson were better understood by politicians, even in our own
enlightened day.
For the arts of rhetoric he had small respect; in his opinion, the man
who was capable of making a long, florid speech, was fit for little
else. His own oratorical efforts were usually brief, pithy, and to the
point. For example, here follows a specimen, which the writer heard
delivered in Illinois, by a candidate for the legislature:--
"Fellow-citizens: I am no speech-maker, but what I say, _I'll do_. I've
lived among you twenty years, and if I've shown myself a clever fellow,
you know it, _without_ a speech: if I'm not a clever fellow, you know
that, too, and wouldn't forget it _with_ a speech. I'm a candidate for
the legislature: if you think I'm 'the clear grit,' _vote_ for me: if
you think Major R---- of a better 'stripe' than I am, vote for _him_.
The fact is, that either of us will make a devilish good
representative!"
For the satisfaction of the reader, we should record that the orator was
triumphantly elected, and, though "no speech-maker," was an excellent
member for several years.
The saddest, yet cheerfullest--the quaintest, yet most unaffected of
moralists, has written "A Complaint upon the Decay of Beggars," which
will not cease to be read, so long as pure English and pure feeling are
understood and appreciated. They were a part of the recollections of his
childhood--images painted upon his heart, impressions made in his soft
and pitying nature; and the "besom of societarian reformation,"
legislating busybodies, and tinkers of the general welfare, were
sweeping them away, with all their humanizing influences, their deep
lessons of dire adversity and gentle charity.
There are some memories of the childhood of western men--unlike, and yet
similar in their generous persuasions on all pure young hearts--upon
whose "Decay" might, also, be written a "Complaint," which should come
as truly, and yet as sadly, from the heart of him, who remembers his
boyhood, as did that from the heart of Elia. Gatherings of the militia,
burgou-hunts, barbecues, and anniversaries--phases of a primitive, yet
true and hearty time!--are fast giving way, before the march of a
barbarous "progress" (erroneously christened) "of intelligence." The
hard spirit of money-getting, the harder spirit of education-getting,
and the hardest of _all_ spirits, that of pharisaical morality, have
divorced our youth, _a vinculo_, from every species of amusement; and
life has come to be a probationary struggle, too fierce to allow a
moment's relaxation. The bodies of children are drugged and worried into
health, their intellects are stuffed and forced into premature
development, or early decay--but their _hearts_ are utterly forgotten!
Enjoyment is a forbidden thing, and only the miserable cant of
"intellectual pleasure" is allowed. _Ideas_--of philosophy, religious
observance, and mathematics--are supplied _ad nauseam_; but the
encouragement of a generous _impulse_, or a magnanimous _feeling_, is
too frivolous a thing to have a place in our vile system. Children are
"brought up," and "brought out," as if they were composed exclusively of
intellect and body: And, since the manifestations of any other element
are pronounced pernicious--even if the existence of the element itself
be recognised--the means of fostering it, innocent amusements, which
make the sunshine brighter, the spirits more cheerful, and the heart
purer and lighter, are sternly prohibited. Alas! for the generation
which shall grow up, and be "educated" (God save the mark!) as if it had
no heart! And wo to the blasphemy which dares to offer, as service to
Heaven, an arrogant contempt of Heaven's gifts, and claims a reward,
like the self-tormentors of the middle ages, for its vain
mortifications.
But, in the time of the politician, of whom we write, these things were
far different. We have already seen him at a "militia muster," and fain
would we pause here, to display him at a barbecue. What memories,
sweet, though sad, we might evoke of "the glorious fourth" in the olden
time! How savory are even the dim recollections of the dripping viands,
which hung, and fried, and crisped, and crackled, over the great fires,
in the long deep trenches! Our nostrils grow young again with the
thought--and the flavor of the feast floats on the breezes of memory,
even "across the waste of years" which lie between! And the cool,
luxuriant foliage of the grove, the verdant thickets, and among them
pleasant vistas, little patches of green sward, covered with gay and
laughing parties--even the rosy-cheeked girls, in their rustling gingham
dresses, cast now and then a longing glance, toward the yet forbidden
tables! how fresh and clear these images return upon the fancy!
And then the waving banners, roaring cannon, and the slow procession,
moving all too solemnly for our impatient wishes! And finally, the
dropping of the ropes, the simultaneous rush upon the open feast, and
the rapid, perhaps ravenous consumption of the smoking viands, the jest,
the laugh, all pleasant merriment, the exhilaration of the crowd, the
music, and the occasion! What glories we heard from the orator, of
victories achieved by our fathers! How we longed--O! brief, but
glorious dream! to be one day spoken of like Washington! How wildly our
hearts leaped in our boyish bosoms, as we listened to the accents of the
solemn pledge and "declaration"--"our lives, our fortunes, and our
sacred honor!" The whole year went lighter for that one day, and at each
return, we went home happier, and better!
How measureless we thought the politician's greatness then! This was his
proper element--here he was at home; and, as he ordered and directed
everything about him, flourishing his marshal's baton, clearing the way
for the march of the procession--settling the "order of exercises," and
reading the programme, in a stentorian voice--there was, probably in his
own estimation, and certainly in ours, no more important or honored
individual in all that multitude!
In such scenes as these, he was, indeed, without a rival; but there were
others, also, in which he was quite as useful, if not so conspicuous. On
election days, for instance, when a free people assembled to exercise
their "inestimable privilege," to choose their own rulers--he was as
busy as a witch in a tempest. His talents shone forth with especial and
peculiar lustre--for, with him, this was "the day for which all other
days were made." He marshalled his retainers, and led them to "the
polls"--not as an inexperienced tactician would have done, with much
waste of time, in seeking every private voter, but after the manner of
feudal times--by calling upon his immediate dependants, captains over
tens and twenties, through whom he managed the more numerous masses.
These were the "file-leaders," the "fugle-men," and "heads of messes;"
and it was by a judicious management of these, that he was able to
acquire and retain an extensive influence.
The first article of his electioneering creed was, that every voter was
controlled by somebody; and that the only way to sway the privates was,
to govern the officers: and, whether true or not, it must be admitted
that his theory worked well in practice. He affected to entertain a high
respect for those whom he described as "the boys from the heads of the
hollows"--men who were never seen beyond the precincts of their own
little "clearings," except upon the Fourth of July and election day,
from one end of the year to the other. With these he drank bad whiskey,
made stale jokes, and affected a flattering condescension. With others,
more important or less easily imposed upon, he "whittled" sociably in
the fence-corners, talked solemnly in conspicuous places, and always
looked confidential and mysterious.
But, however earnestly engaged, he never forgot the warfare in which he
was chief combatant. Like a general upon a field of battle, with his
staff about him, he had sundry of his friends always near, to undertake
any commission, or convey any order, which he desired to have executed;
and not a voter could come upon the ground, whom there was the remotest
chance to influence, that his vigilance did not at once discover and
seize upon, through some one of these lieutenants. He resorted to every
conceivable art, to induce the freemen to vote _properly_; and, when he
could not succeed in this, his next study was to prevent their voting
_at all_. The consequence usually was, that he secured his own election,
or that of his chosen candidate; for, in him, vigilance and shrewdness
were happily combined.
But, perhaps fortunately for the country, his ambition was generally
limited to such small offices, as he was quite capable of filling. The
highest point at which he aimed, was a seat in the state legislature;
and on reaching that goal, he signalized his term, chiefly, if at all,
in advocating laws about division fences, and trespassers upon
timber--measures which he deemed desirable for his own immediate
constituency, with very little care for the question of their general
utility. Indeed, he never went to the capital, without having his
pockets full of "private bills," for the gratification of his personal
friends, or near neighbors; and if, after a reasonable term of service,
he had succeeded in getting all these passed into laws, he came home,
contented to "subside," and live the remainder of his days, upon the
recollection of his legislative honors.
In the course of time, like all other earthly things, his class began to
decay. The tide of immigration, or the increasing intelligence of the
people, raised up men of larger views; and he speedily found himself
outstripped in the race, and forgotten by his ancient retainers.
Then--like his predecessor, the original frontierman--disgusted with
civilization and its refinements--he migrated to more congenial regions,
and, in the scenes of his former triumphs, was heard of no more.
FOOTNOTES:
[82] Translate "_donum_," talent.
[83] A kind of soup, made by boiling all sorts of game with corn,
onions, tomatoes, and a variety of other vegetables. When skilfully
concocted and properly seasoned, not at all unsavory. So called from a
soup made by seamen.
EPILOGUE.
Here we must pause.
On the hither side of the period, represented by the early politician,
and between that and the present, the space of time is much too narrow,
to contain any distinct development: those who superseded the primitive
oracles, are yet in possession of the temple. We could not, therefore,
pursue our plan further, without hazarding the charge of drawing from
the life.
It is remarkable, that anything like a fair or candid estimate of--for
example--a public man's character, while he is yet favored with the
people's suffrages, is very certain to be pronounced a caricature; and
it is not less singular, that, while the complaints of popular critics,
in effect, affirm that there is fidelity enough in the picture to enable
even obtuse minds to fit the copy to the original, they at the same time
vehemently assert that the whole portrait is a libel. A just
admeasurement of a demagogue's ability is thus always abated by the
imputation of partisan falsehood or prejudice; and whosoever declines to
join in the adulation of a temporary idol, may consider himself
fortunate, if he escape with only the reproach of envy. Sketches of
contemporaneous character--if they seek recognition among the masses,
must, therefore, not reduce the altitude which blind admiration has
assigned, nor cut away the foreign lace, nor tear the ornaments, with
which excited parties have bedaubed their images of clay. And, yet, so
prone are men to overrate their leaders, that no estimate of a prominent
man can be just, without impugning popular opinion.
There is probably no other ground quite so perilous as politics, unless
it be literature: and, as yet, the west is comparatively barren of those
"sensitive plants," literary men. But any attempt to delineate society,
by portraiture of living characters, even though the pictures were
purely ideal, would, upon the present plan, involve the suspicion (and
perhaps the temptation to deserve it), indicated above. Before venturing
upon such uncertain paths, therefore, we must display a little
generalship, and call a halt, if not a council of war. Whether we are to
march forward, will be determined by the "General _Orders_."
THE END.
J. S. REDFIELD,
110 AND 112 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK,
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