how we manufacture political faith
mr. m'fadden enters the tavern, which presents one of those grotesque scenes so peculiarly southern, almost impossible for the reader to imagine, and scarcely less for pen to describe. in and around the verandas are numerous armchairs, occupied by the fashionable portion of the political material, who, dressed in extreme profuseness, are displaying their extraordinary distinctions in jewellery of heavy seals and long dangling chains. some are young men who have enjoyed the advantage of a liberal education, which they now turn into the more genial duty of ornamenting themselves. they have spent much time and many valuable cosmetics on their heads, all of which is very satisfactorily repaid by the smoothness of their hair. their pleasure never penetrated beyond this; they ask no more.
they ask but little of the world, and are discussing the all-important question, whether colonel mophany or general vandart will get the more votes at the polls. so they smoke and harangue, and drink and swear, and with inimitable provincialisms fill up the clattering music. there is a fascinating piquancy in the strange slang and conversational intermixture. it is a great day at the crossing; the political sediment has reduced all men to one grade, one harmonious whole, niggers excepted. spirits that cannot flow one way must flow another.
in an adjoining room sit the two candidates-gentlemen of high distinction-for the votes of the sovereign people. through those sovereign rights they will satisfy their yearning desire to reach the very high position of member of the general assembly. anxiety is pictured on their very countenances; it is the fruit of care when men travel the road to distinction without finding it. they are well dressed, and would be modest, if modesty were worth its having in such an atmosphere. indeed, they might have been taken for men with other motives than those of gaining office by wallowing in a political quagmire reeking with democratic filth. courteous to each other, they sit at a large table containing long slips of paper, each candidate's sentiments printed thereon. as each voter--good fellow that he is--enters the room, one or the other candidate reaches out his hand to welcome him, and, as a sequel, hands him his slip, making the politest bow. much is said about the prospects of the south, and much more that is very acceptable to those about to do the drinking part of the scene.
both candidates are very ambitious men; both profess to be the people's champion-the sovereign people-the dear people-the noble-hearted people-the iron-handed, unbribable, unterrified democracy-the people from whom all power springs. the never-flinching, unterrified, irresistible democracy are smothered with encomiums of praise, sounding from all parts of the room. mr. lawrence m'fadden is ushered into the room to the great joy of his friends: being a very great man among the loyal voters, his appearance produces great excitement.
several friends of the candidates, working for their favourites, are making themselves very humble in their behalf. although there is little care for maintaining any fundamental principle of government that does not serve his own pocket, mr. m'fadden can and will control a large number of votes, do a deal of knocking down at the polls, and bring up first-rate fighting men to do the keeping away the opposite's constituents. thus our man, who has lately been bought as preacher, is most useful in this our little democratic world.
some two or three hundred persons have collected near a clump of trees on the lawn, and are divided into knots intermixed with ruffian-looking desperadoes, dressed most coarsely and fantastically. they are pitting their men, after the fashion of good horses; then they boldly draw forth and expose the minor delinquencies of opposing candidates. among them are the "saw- piters," who affect an air of dignity, and scout the planter's offer of work so long as a herring runs the river; the "piny woods-man," of great independence while rabbits are found in the woods, and he can wander over the barren unrestrained; and the "wire-grass-men;" and the crackers,
singular species of gypsies, found throughout the state. who live anywhere and everywhere, and whom the government delights to keep in ignorance, while declaring it much better they were enslaved. the state possesses many thousands of these people; but few of them can read, while never having written a stroke in their lives is a boast. continually armed with double-barrel guns, to hunt the panting buck is one of their sports; to torture a runaway negro is another; to make free with a planter's corn field is the very best. the reader may imagine this picture of lean, craven faces-unshaven and made fiercely repulsive by their small, treacherous eyes, if he can. it can only be seen in these our happy slave states of our happy union.
the time draws near when the candidates will come forward, address the sovereign constituency, and declare their free and open principles-their love of liberal governments, and their undying affection for the great truths of democracy. the scene, as the time approaches, becomes more and more animated. all are armed to the teeth, with the symbol of honour--something so called--beneath their coarse doublets, or in the waistbands of their pantaloons. the group evinces so much excitement that belligerents are well nigh coming to blows; in fact, peace is only preserved by the timely appearance of the landlord, who proclaims that unless order be preserved until after the candidates have addressed them, the next barrel of whiskey will positively "not be tapped." he could not use a more effectual argument. mr. m'fadden, who exercises great authority over the minions under him, at this announcement mounts the top of an empty whiskey barrel, and declares he will whip the "whole crowd," if they do not cease to wage their political arguments.
while the above cursory remarks and party sparrings are going on, some forty negroes are seen busily employed preparing the indispensable adjuncts of the occasion-the meats. here, beneath the clump of trees, a few yards from the grocery and justices' office, the candidates' tables are being spread with cold meats, crackers, bread and cheese, cigars, &c., &c. as soon as the gentlemen candidates have delivered themselves of their sentiments, two barrels of real "straight-back" whiskey will be added.
"this is the way we puts our candidate through, down south, ye see, fellers, voters: it's we what's the bone and siners o' the rights o' the south. it's we what's got t' take the slow-coach politics out o' the hands o' them ar' old harristocrats what don't think them ar' northern abolitionists han't goin to do nothin. it's we, fellow citizens, what puts southern-rights principles clean through; it's we what puts them ar' old union haristocrats, what spiles all the nigger property, into the straight up way o' doing things! now, feller voters, free and independent citizens-freemen who have fought for freedom,--you, whose old, grey-headed fathers died for freedom! it takes you t' know what sort a thing freedom is; and how to enjoy it so niggers can't take it away from you! i'ze lived north way, know how it is! yer jist the chaps to put niggers straight,--to vote for my man, colonel mohpany," mr. m'fadden cries out at the very top of his voice, as he comes rushing out of the tavern, edging his way through the crowd, followed by the two candidates. the gentlemen look anxiously good-natured; they walk together to the rostrum, followed by a crowd, measuring their way to the assembly through the darling affections of our free and independent voters. gossamer citizenship, this!
as they reach the rostrum, a carriage is seen in the distance, approaching in great haste. all attention being directed to it, the first candidate, colonel mohpany, mounts the stump, places his right hand in his bosom, and pauses as if to learn who it brings. to the happy consolation of mr. m'fadden and his friends, it bears mr. scranton the philosopher. poor mr. scranton looks quite worn out with anxiety; he has come all the way from the city, prepared with the very best kind of a southern-rights speech, to relieve his friend, general vardant, who is not accustomed to public declamation. the general is a cunning fellow, fears the stump accomplishments of his antagonist, and has secured the valuable services of philosopher scranton. mr. s. will tell the constituency, in very logical phraseology,--making the language suit the sentiments of his friends,--what principles must be maintained; how the general depends upon the soundness of their judgment to sustain him; how they are the bone and sinews of the great political power of the south; how their hard, uncontrastable appearance, and their garments of similar primitiveness, are emblematic of the iron firmness of their democracy. mr. scranton will further assure them that their democracy is founded on that very accommodating sort of freedom which will be sure to keep all persons of doubtful colour in slavery.
mr. scranton arrives, receives the congratulations of his friends, gets the negroes to brush him down,--for it is difficult to distinguish him from a pillar of dust, save that we have his modest eyes for assurances-takes a few glasses of moderate mixture, and coolly collects his ideas. the mixture will bring out mr. scranton's philosophical facts: and, now that he has got his face and beard cleanly washed, he will proceed to the stand. here he is received with loud cheering; the gentleman is a great man, all the way from the city. sitting on a chair he is sorry was made at the north, he exhibits a deal of method in taking from his pocket a long cedar pencil, with which he will make notes of all colonel mohpany's loose points.
the reader, we feel assured, will excuse us for not following colonel mohpany through his speech, so laudatory of the patriotism of his friends, so much interrupted by applause. the warm manner in which his conclusion is received assures him that he now is the most popular man in the state. mr. scranton, armed with his usually melancholy countenance, rises to the stump, makes his modestly political bow, offers many impressive apologies for the unprepared state in which he finds himself, informs his hearers that he appears before them only as a substitute for his very intimate and particular friend, general vardant. he, too, has a wonderful prolixity of compliments to bestow upon the free, the patriotic, the independent voters of the very independent district. he tries to be facetious; but his temperament will not admit of any inconsistencies, not even in a political contest. no! he must be serious; because the election of a candidate to so high an office is a serious affair. so he will tell the "saw-pit men" a great deal about their noble sires; how they lived and died for liberty; how the tombstones of immortality are emblazoned with the fame of their glorious deeds. and he will tell these glorious squatters what inalienable rights they possess; how they must be maintained; and how they have always been first to maintain the principle of keeping "niggers" in their places, and resisting those mischievous propagators of northern villainy-abolitionists. he will tell the deep-thinking saw-pit voters how it has been charged against them that they were only independent once a year, and that was when herrings run up the santee river. such a gross slander mr. scranton declares to be the most impious. they were always independent; and, if they were poor, and preferred to habit themselves in primitive garbs, it was only because they preferred to be honest! this, mr. scranton, the northern philosopher, asserts with great emphasis. yes! they are honest; and honest patriots are always better than rich traitors. from the san-pit men, mr. scranton, his face distended with eloquence, turns to his cracker and "wire-grass" friends, upon whom he bestows most piercing compliments. their lean mules-the speaker laughs at his own wit-and pioneer waggons always remind him of the good old times, when he was a boy, and everybody was so honest it was unnecessary even to have such useless finery as people put on at the present day. a word or two, very derogatory of the anti-slavery people, is received with deafening applause. of the descendants of the huguenots he says but little; they are few, rich, and very unpopular in this part of the little sovereign state. and he quite forgot to tell this unlettered mass of a sovereign constituency the true cause of their poverty and degradation. mr. scranton, however, in one particular point, which is a vital one to the slave-ocracy, differs with the ungovernable romescos,--he would not burn all common schools, nor scout all such trash as schoolmasters.
in another part of mr. scranton's speech he enjoins them to be staunch supporters of men known to be firm to the south, and who would blow up every yankee who came south, and refused to declare his sentiments to be for concession. "you!"-he points round him to the grotesque crowd-"were first to take a stand and keep niggers down; to keep them where they can't turn round and enslave you! great britain, fell ercitizens,"-mr. scranton begins to wax warm; he adjusts his coat sleeves, and draws himself into a tragic attitude as he takes his tobacco from his mouth, seemingly unconscious of his own enthusiasm-i say great britain-" a sudden interruption is caused. mr. scranton's muddled quid, thrown with such violence, has bedaubed the cheek of an admiring saw-pitter, whose mind was completely absorbed in his eloquence. he was listening with breathless suspense, and only saved its admission in his capacious mouth by closing it a few seconds before.
"sarved him just right; keep on, colonel!" exclaims mr. m'fadden. he takes the man by the arm, pushes him aside, and makes a slight bow to mr. scranton. he would have him go on.
"great britain-feller citizens, i say-was first to commence the warfare against nigger slavery; and now she is joining the north to seek its permanent overthrow. she is a monster tyrant wherever she sets her foot-i say! (three cheers for that.) she contributed to fasten the curse upon us; and now she wants to destroy us by taking it away according to the measures of the northern abolitionists-fanaticism! whatever the old school southerner neglects to do for the preservation of the peculiar institution, we must do for him! and we, who have lived at the north, can, with your independent support, put the whole thing through a course of political crooks." again mr. scranton pauses; surveys his assembly of free and independent citizens.
"that we can: i knows what fanatics down east be!" rejoins mr. m'fadden, shaking his head very knowingly. he laughs with an air of great satisfaction, as much as to say that, with such northern philosophers to do the championism of slavery in the south, all the commercial relations for which northern merchants are under so many obligations to slave-labour, will be perfectly safe. but mr. scranton has drawn out his speech to such an uncommon length, that the loquacious m'fadden is becoming decidedly wearied. his eyes begin to glow languid, and the lids to close,--and now he nods assent to all mr. scranton's sayings, which singularly attracts the attention of that orator's hearers. the orator becomes very much annoyed at this, suddenly stops-begs mr. m'fadden will postpone his repose. this, from so great a man as mr. scranton, is accepted as provokingly witty. mr. m'fadden laughs; and they all laugh. the gentleman will continue his speech.
"the south must come out; must establish free trade, direct trade,--trade that will free her from her disreputable association with the north. she can do it!" mr. scranton wipes his forehead with his white pocket-handkerchief.
"ain't we deeply indebted to the north?" a voice in the crowd cries out.
"well! what if we are? can't we offset the debts on the principles of war? let it go against the injury of abolition excitements!" mr. scranton makes a theatrical flourish with his right hand, and runs the fingers of his left through his crispy hair, setting it on end like quills on a porcupine's back. three long and loud cheers follow, and the gentleman is involuntarily compelled to laugh at his own singular sayings. "the south must hold conventions; she must enforce constitutional guarantees; she must plant herself in the federal capital, and plead her cause at the bar of the world. she will get a hearing there! and she must supplant that dangerous engine of abolition, now waging war against our property, our rights, our social system." thus concluding, mr. scranton sits down, very much fatigued from his mental effervescence, yet much lighter from having relieved himself of his speech, amidst a storm of applause. such a throwing up of hats and slouches, such jostling, abetting, and haranguing upon the merits of the candidates, their speeches and their sentiments, never was heard or seen before.
mine host now mounts the stand to make the welcome announcement, that, the speeches being over, the eating entertainments are ready. he hopes the friends of the candidates will repair to the tables, and help themselves without stint or restraint. as they are on the point of rushing upon the tables, colonel mohpany suddenly jumps up, and arrests the progress of the group by intimating that he has one word more to say. that word is, his desire to inform the bone and sinew of the constituency that his opponent belongs to a party which once declared in the assembly that they-the very men who stand before him now-were a dangerous class unless reduced to slavery! the colonel has scarcely delivered himself of this very clever charge, when the tables, a few yards distant, are surrounded by promiscuous friends and foes, who help themselves after the fashion most advantageous. all rules of etiquette are unceremoniously dispensed with,--he who can secure most is the best diplomatist. many find their mouths so inadequate to the temptation of the feast, that they improve on mr. scranton's philosophy by making good use of their ample pockets. believe us, reader, the entertainment is the essential part of the candidate's political virtue, which must be measured according to the extent of his cold meats and very bad whiskey.
to carry out the strength of general vardant's principles, several of his opponent's friends are busily employed in circulating a report that his barrel of whiskey has been "brought on" only half full. a grosser slander could not have been invented. but the report gains circulation so fast, that his meats and drinks are mischievously absorbed, and the demonstration of his unpopular position begins to be manifest. the candidates, unflinching in their efforts, mix with the medley, have the benefit of the full exercise of free thought and action, hear various opinions upon "the squire's chances," and listen to the chiming of high-sounding compliments. while this clanging of merry jargon is at its highest, as if by some magic influence romescos makes his appearance, and immediately commences to pit sides with mr. m'fadden. with all romescos' outlawry, he is tenacious of his southern origin; and he will assert its rights against mr. m'fadden, whom he declares to be no better than a northern humbug, taking advantage of southern institutions. to him all northerners are great vagabonds, having neither principles nor humanity in their composition; he makes the assertion emphatically, without fear or trembling; and he calls upon his friends to sustain him, that he may maintain the rights of the south. those rights romescos asserts, and re-asserts, can only be preserved by southern men-not by sneaking northerners, who, with their trade, pocket their souls. northerners are great men for whitewashing their faces with pretence! romescos is received with considerable ?clat. he declares, independently, that mr. scranton too is no less a sheer humbug of the same stripe, and whose humbugging propensities make him the humble servant of the south so long as he can make a dollar by the bemeaning operation. his full and unmeasured appreciation of all this northern-southern independence is here given to the world for the world's good. and he wants the world to particularly understand, that the old southerner is the only independent man, the only true protector of humanity!
romescos' sudden appearance, and the bold stand he takes against mr. m'fadden and his candidate, produce the utmost confusion; he being unpopular with the saw-pit men, with whom he once exhibited considerable dexterity in carrying off one of their number and putting the seal of slavery on him, they take sides against him. it is the saw-pitters against romescos and the crackers. the spirits have flowed, and now the gods of our political power sway to and fro under most violent shocks. many, being unable to keep a perpendicular, are accusing each other of all sorts of misdeeds-of the misdeeds of their ancestors-of the specific crimes they committed-the punishments they suffered. from personalities of their own time they descend forth into jeering each other on matters of family frailty, setting what their just deserts would have entitled them to receive. they continue in this strain of jargon for some time, until at length it becomes evident the storm of war is fast approaching a crisis. mr. m'fadden is mentally unprepared to meet this crisis, which romescos will make to suit himself; and to this end the comical and somewhat tragical finale seems pretty well understood by the candidates and a few of the "swell-ocracy," who have assembled more to see the grand representation of physical power on the part of these free and enlightened citizens, than to partake of the feast or listen to the rhetoric of the speeches. in order to get a good view of the scene they have ascended trees, where, perched among their branches like so many jackals, they cheer and urge on the sport, as the nobility of spain applaud a favourite champion of the ring. at length the opposing parties doff their hats and coats, draw knives, make threatening grimaces, and twirl their steel in the air: their desperation is earnest; they make an onset, charging with the bravado of men determined to sacrifice life. the very air resounds with their shouts of blasphemy; blood flows from deep incisions of bowie-knives, garments are rent into shreds; and men seem to have betaken themselves to personating the demons.
would that they were rational beings! would that they were men capable of constituting a power to protect the liberty of principle and the justice of law! shout after shout goes up; tumult is triumphant. two fatal rencontres are announced, and mr. lawrence m'fadden is dangerously wounded; he has a cut in the abdomen. the poor victims attract but little attention; such little trifling affairs are very common, scarcely worth a word of commiseration. one gentleman insinuates that the affair has been a desperately amusing one; another very coolly adds, that this political feed has had much more interest in it than any preceding one.
the victims are rolled in blankets, and laid away in the corn-shed; they will await the arrival of the coroner, who, the landlord says, it will be no more than right to send for. they are only two dead crackers, however, and nobody doubts what the verdict will be. in truth-and it must be told once in a while, even in our atmosphere-the only loss is the two votes, which the candidate had already secured with his meat and drink, and which have now, he regrets, been returned to the box of death instead of his ballot. poor voters, now only fit to serve the vilest purpose! how degraded in the scale of human nature is the being, only worth a suffrance at elections, where votes cast from impulse control the balance of power. such beings are worth just nothing; they would not sell in the market. the negro waiters say, "it don't make a bit of matter how much white rubbish like this is killed, it won't fetch a bid in the market; and when you sell it, it won't stay sold."
"lose i dat way, cato, might jist as well take tousand dollar straight out o' mas'r's pocket; but dese critters b'nt notin' nohow," says old daniel, one of the servants, who knows the value of his own body quite well. daniel exults as he looks upon the dead bodies he is assisting to deposit in the corn-shed.
mr. m'fadden is carefully borne into the tavern, where, after much difficulty, he is got up stairs and laid on a very nice bed, spread with snowy white linen. a physician is called, and his wound dressed with all possible skill and attention. he is in great pain, however; begs his friends to bestow all care upon him, and save no expense.
thus ends our political day. the process of making power to shape the social and political weal of our state, closes.
