As soon as I found my friend Mr. Hopewell comfortably settled in his
lodgings, I went to the office of the Belgian Consul and other persons
to obtain the necessary passports for visiting Germany, where I had a
son at school. Mr. Slick proceeded at the same time to the residence of
his Excellency Abednego Layman, who had been sent to this country by the
United States on a special mission, relative to the Tariff.
On my return from the city in the afternoon, he told me he had presented
his credentials to “the Socdolager,” and was most graciously and
cordially received; but still, I could not fail to observe that there
was an evident air of disappointment about him.
“Pray, what is the meaning of the Socdolager?” I asked. “I never heard
of the term before.”
“Possible!” said he, “never heerd tell of ‘the Socdolager,’ why you
don’t say so! The Socdolager is the President of the lakes--he is the
whale of the intarnal seas--the Indgians worshipped him once on a time,
as the king of fishes. He lives in great state in the deep waters, does
the old boy, and he don’t often shew himself. I never see’d him myself,
nor any one that ever had sot eyes on him; but the old Indgians have
see’d him and know him well. He won’t take no bait, will the Socdolager;
he can’t be caught, no how you can fix, he is so ‘tarnal knowin’, and he
can’t be speared nother, for the moment he sees aim taken, he ryles the
water and is out of sight in no tune. _He_ can take in whole shoals of
others hisself, tho’ at a mouthful. He’s a whapper, that’s a fact. I
call our Minister here ‘the Socdolager,’ for our _di_plomaters were
never known to be hooked once yet, and actilly beat all natur’ for
knowin’ the soundin’s, smellin’ the bait, givin’ the dodge, or rylin’
the water; so no soul can see thro’ it but themselves. Yes, he is ‘a
Socdolager,’ or a whale among _di_plomaters.
“Well, I rigs up this morning, full fig, calls a cab, and proceeds
in state to our embassy, gives what Cooper calls a lord’s beat of six
thund’rin’ raps of the knocker, presents the legation ticket, and was
admitted to where ambassador was. He is a very pretty man all up his
shirt, and he talks pretty, and smiles pretty, and bows pretty, and he
has got the whitest hand you ever see, it looks as white, as a new bread
and milk poultice. It does indeed.
“‘Sam Slick,’ sais he, ‘as I’m alive. Well, how do you do, Mr. Slick? I
am ‘nation glad to see you, I affection you as a member of our legation.
I feel kinder proud to have the first literary man of our great nation
as my Attache.’
“‘Your knowledge of human natur, (added to your’n of soft sawder,’ sais
I,) ‘will raise our great nation, I guess, in the scale o’ European
estimation.’
“He is as sensitive as a skinned eel, is Layman, and he winced at that
poke at his soft sawder like any thing, and puckered a little about
the mouth, but he didn’t say nothin’, he only bowed. He was a Unitarian
preacher once, was Abednego, but he swapt preachin’ for politics, and a
good trade he made of it too; that’s a fact.
“‘A great change,’ sais I, ‘Abednego, since you was a preachin’ to
Connecticut and I was a vendin’ of clocks to Nova Scotia, ain’t it?
Who’d a thought then, you’d a been “a Socdolager,” and me your “pilot
fish,” eh!’
“It was a raw spot, that, and I always touched him on it for fun.
“‘Sam,’ said he, and his face fell like an empty puss, when it gets a
few cents put into each eend on it, the weight makes it grow twice as
long in a minute. ‘Sam,’ said he, ‘don’t call me that are, except when
we are alone here, that’s a good soul; not that I am proud, for I am
a true Republican;’ and he put his hand on his heart, bowed and smiled
hansum, ‘but these people will make a nickname of it, and we shall never
hear the last of it; that’s a fact. We must respect ourselves, afore
others will respect us. You onderstand, don’t you?’
“‘Oh, don’t I,’ sais I, ‘that’s all? It’s only here I talks this way,
because we are at home now; but I can’t help a thinkin’ how strange
things do turn up sometimes. Do you recollect, when I heard you
a-preachin’ about Hope a-pitchin’ of her tent on a hill? By gosh,
it struck me then, you’d pitch, your tent high some day; you did it
beautiful.’
“He know’d I didn’t like this change, that Mr. Hopewell had kinder
inoculated me with other guess views on these matters, so he began to
throw up bankments and to picket in the ground, all round for defence
like.
“‘Hope,’ sais he, ‘is the attribute of a Christian, Slick, for he hopes
beyond this world; but I changed on principle.’
“‘Well,’ sais I, ‘I changed on interest; now if our great nation is
backed by principal and interest here, I guess its credit is kinder well
built. And atween you and me, Abednego, that’s more than the soft-horned
British will ever see from all our States. Some on ‘em are intarmined to
pay neither debt nor interest, and give nothin’ but lip in retarn.’
“‘Now,’ sais he, a pretendin’ to take no notice of this,’ you know we
have the Voluntary with us, Mr. Slick.’ He said “_Mister_” that time,
for he began to get formal on puppus to stop jokes; but, dear me, where
all men are equal what’s the use of one man tryin’ to look big? He must
take to growin’ agin I guess to do that. ‘You know we have the Voluntary
with us, Mr. Slick,’ sais he.
“‘Jist so,’ sais I.
“‘Well, what’s the meanin’ of that?’
“‘Why,’ sais I, ‘that you support religion or let it alone, as you like;
that you can take it up as a pedlar does his pack, carry it till you are
tired, then lay it down, set on it, and let it support you.”
“‘Exactly,’ sais he; ‘it is voluntary on the hearer, and it’s jist so
with the minister, too; for his preachin’ is voluntary also. He can
preach or lot it alone, as he likes. It’s voluntary all through. It’s a
bad rule that won’t work both ways.’
“‘Well,’ says I, ‘there is a good deal in that, too.’ I said that just
to lead him on.
“‘A good deal!’ sais he, ‘why it’s every thing. But I didn’t rest on
that alone; I propounded this maxim to myself. Every man, sais I, is
bound to sarve his fellow citizens to his utmost. That’s true; ain’t it,
Mr. Slick?’
“‘Guess so,’ sais I.
“‘Well then, I asked myself this here question: Can I sarve my fellow
citizens best by bein’ minister to Peach settlement, ‘tendin’ on a
little village of two thousand souls, and preachin’ my throat sore, or
bein’ special minister to Saint Jimses, and sarvin’ our great Republic
and its thirteen millions? Why, no reasonable man can doubt; so I give
up preachin’.’
“‘Well,’ sais I, ‘Abednego, you are a Socdolager, that’s a fact; you are
a great man, and a great scholard. Now a great scholard, when he can’t
do a sum the way it’s stated, jist states it so--he _can_ do it. Now the
right way to state that sum is arter this fashion: “Which is best, to
endeavour to save the souls of two thousand people under my spiritual
charge, or let them go to Old Nick and save a piece of wild land in
Maine, get pay for an old steamer burnt to Canada, and uphold the slave
trade for the interest of the States.’
“‘That’s specious, but not true,’ said he; ‘but it’s a matter rather for
my consideration than your’n,’ and he looked as a feller does when he
buttons his trowsers’ pocket, as much as to say, you have no right to be
a puttin’ of your pickers and stealers in there, that’s mine. ‘We will
do better to be less selfish,’ said he, ‘and talk of our great nation.’
“‘Well,’ says I, ‘how do we stand here in Europe? Do we maintain the
high pitch we had, or do we sing a note lower than we did?’
“Well, he walked up and down the room, with his hands onder his
coat-tails, for ever so long, without a sayin’ of a word. At last, sais
he, with a beautiful smile that was jist skin deep, for it played on his
face as a cat’s-paw does on the calm waters, ‘What was you a sayin.’ of,
Mr. Slick?’ saw he.
“‘What’s our position to Europe?’ sais I, ‘jist now; is it letter A,
No. 1?’
“‘Oh!’ sais he, and he walked up and down agin, cypherin’ like to
himself; and then says he, ‘I’ll tell you; that word Socdolager, and the
trade of preachin’, and clockmakin’, it would be as well to sink here;
neither on ‘em convene with dignity. Don’t you think so?’
“‘Sartainly,’ sais I; ‘it’s only fit for talk over a cigar, alone. It
don’t always answer a good, purpose to blart every thing out. But our
_po_sition,’ says I, among the nations of the airth, is it what our
everlastin’ Union is entitled to?’
“‘Because,’ sais he, ‘some day when I am asked out to dinner, some
wag or another of a lord will call me parson, and ask me to crave a
blessin’, jist to raise the larf agin me for havin’ been a preacher.’
“‘If he does,’ sais I,’ jist say, my Attache does that, and I’ll jist up
first and give it to him atween the two eyes; and when that’s done, sais
you, my Lord, that’s _your grace_ afore meat; pr’aps your lordship will
_return thanks_ arter dinner. Let him try it, that’s all. But our great
nation,’ sais I, ‘tell me, hante that noble stand we made on the right
of sarch, raised us about the toploftiest?’
“‘Oh,’ says he ‘right of sarch! right of sarch! I’ve been tryin’ to
sarch my memory, but can’t find it. I don’t recollect that sarmont about
Hope pitchin’ her tent on the hill. When was it?’
“‘It was afore the juvenile-united-democratic-republican association to
Funnel Hall,’ sais I.
“‘Oh,’ says he, ‘that was an oration--it was an oration that.’
“Oh!” sais I, “we won’t say no more about that; I only meant it as a
joke, and nothin’ more. But railly now, Abednego, what is the state of
our legation?”
“‘I don’t see nothin’ ridikilous,’ sais he, ‘in that are expression, of
Hope pitchin’ her tent on a hill. It’s figurativ’ and poetic, but it’s
within the line that divides taste from bombast. Hope pitchin’ her tent
on a hill! What is there to reprehend in that?’
“Good airth and seas,’ sais I, ‘let’s pitch Hope, and her tent, and the
hill, all to Old Nick in a heap together, and talk of somethin’ else.
You needn’t be so perkily ashamed of havin’ preached, man. Cromwell was
a great preacher all his life, but it didn’t spile him as a Socdolager
one bit, but rather helped him, that’s a fact. How ‘av we held our
footin’ here?’
“‘Not well, I am grieved to say,’ sais he; ‘not well. The failure of the
United States’ Bank, the repudiation of debts by several of our States,
the foolish opposition we made to the suppression of the slave-trade,
and above all, the bad faith in the business of the boundary question
has lowered us down, down, e’en a’most to the bottom of the shaft.’
“‘Abednego,’ sais I, ‘we want somethin’ besides boastin’ and talkin’
big; we want a dash--a great stroke of policy. Washington hanging Andre
that time, gained more than a battle. Jackson by hanging Arbuthnot and
Anbristher, gained his election. M’Kennie for havin’ hanged them three
citizens will be made an admiral of yet, see if he don’t. Now if Captain
Tyler had said, in his message to Congress, ‘Any State that repudiates
its foreign debts, we will first fine it in the whole amount, and then
cut it off from our great, free, enlightened, moral and intellectual
republic, he would have gained by the dash his next election, and run up
our flag to the mast-head in Europe. He would have been popular to home,
and respected abroad, that’s as clear as mud,’
“‘He would have done right, Sir, if he had done that,’ said Abednego,
‘and the right thing is always approved of in the eend, and always
esteemed all through the piece. A dash, as a stroke of policy,’ said he,
‘has sometimes a good effect. General Jackson threatening France with a
war, if they didn’t pay the indemnity, when he knew the King would make
‘em pay it whether or no, was a masterpiece; and General Cass tellin’
France if she signed the right of sarch treaty, we would fight both her
and England together single-handed, was the best move on the political
chess-board, this century. All these, Sir, are very well in their way,
to produce an effect; but there’s a better policy nor all that, a far
better policy, and one, too, that some of our States and legislators,
and presidents, and Socdolagers, as you call ‘em, in my mind have got to
larn yet, Sam.’
“‘What’s that?’ sais I. “For I don’t believe in my soul there is nothin’
a’most our diplomaters don’t know. They are a body o’ men that does
honour to our great nation. What policy are you a indicatin’ of?’
“‘Why,’ sais he, ‘_that honesty is the best policy_.’
“When I heerd him say that, I springs right up on eend, like a rope
dancer. ‘Give me your hand, Abednego,’ sais I; ‘you are a man, every
inch of you,’ and I squeezed it so hard, it made his eyes water. ‘I
always knowed you had an excellent head-piece,’ sais I, ‘and now I
see the heart is in the right place too. If you have thrown preachin’
overboard, you have kept your morals for ballast, any how. I feel kinder
proud of you; you are jist a fit representat_ive_ for our great nation.
You are a Socdolager, that’s a fact. I approbate your notion; it’s as
correct as a bootjack. For nations or individuals, it’s all the same,
honesty _is_ the best policy, and no mistake. That,’ sais I, ‘is the
hill, Abednego, for Hope to pitch her tent on, and no mistake,’ and I
put my finger to my nose, and winked.
“‘Well,’ sais he, ‘it is; but you are a droll feller, Slick, there is
no standin’ your jokes. I’ll give you leave to larf if you like, but you
must give me leave to win if I can. Good bye. But mind, Sam, our
dignity is at stake. Let’s have no more of Socdolagers, or Preachin’, or
Clockmakin’, or Hope pitchin’ her tent. A word to the wise. Good bye.’
“Yes,” said Mr. Slick, “I rather like Abednego’s talk myself. I kinder
think that it will be respectable to be Attache to such a man as that.
But he is goin’ out of town for some time, is the Socdolager. There is
an agricultural dinner, where he has to make a conciliation speech; and
a scientific association, where there is a piece of delicate brag and
a bit of soft sawder to do, and then there are visits to the nobility,
peep at manufactures, and all that sort of work, so he won’t be in town
for a good spell, and until then, I can’t go to Court, for he is to
introduce me himself. Pity that, but then it’ll give me lots o’ time to
study human natur, that is, if there is any of it left here, for I have
some doubts about that. Yes, he is an able lead horse, is Abednego; he
is a’most a grand preacher, a good poet, a first chop orator, a
great diplomater, and a top sawyer of a man, in short--he _is_ a
_Socdolager_.”