Free Soilers Autolycus and Honestus talk politics

Hon. Joshua Reed Giddings of Ohio
Library of Congress

This imaginary dialogue between Massachusetts Free Soilers is from the Boston Morning Journal, Monday, October 27, 1851. Volume 19, no 5741; page 1, columns 2-3. Honestus speaks for the high aims, Autolycus for the grimy practice of coalition politics. Charles Sumner is not named directly, but the speakers would have regarded his election to the U. S. Senate as a recent Free Soil "success." Named party leaders include Joshua R. Giddings, Salmon P. Chase, and Horace Mann.

Founded as a Whig newspaper, the Boston Journal was still edited by "Captain Sleeper," the retired seaman and nautical writer John Sherburne Sleeper aka "Hawser Martingale." Sleeper promptly reviewed Moby-Dick in the Boston Journal on November 18, 1851.

A DIALOGUE.

SCENE—State street. Enter HONESTUS and AUTOLYCUS, two Free Soilers, meeting.

Autolycus. Ah, my dear friend Honestus, I am heartily glad to see you. It seems an age since we met, and indulged in a pleasant political chat. Allow me to congratulate you on the success of our party schemes—on the organization of the coalition after some little trouble, and the glorious prospects ahead.

Honestus. (gravely.) What prospects do you allude to? 

Autolycus. Why, of course to the overthrow of the Whig party, and the triumph of the Free Soilers and the Democrats.

Honestus. I much fear that this triumph is not in store for us. If I mistake not, these coalitions—these bargains between two parties of opposite political principles, for the spoils of office—do not suit the genius of Massachusetts folks. Although it has once been successful, it does not follow that the same cunningly devised scheme can be repeated, without meeting the fate which its profligacy deserves.

 Autolycus. Hey day, what have we here? I thought you were a Free Soiler—one of us—and of course an advocate for the coalition and the other measures recommended by the leaders of the party.

Honestus.  You know I always have been—and I now assure you that I am a Free Soiler, in the proper sense of that term. But it does not follow that I can therefore lend my sanction and aid to measures, which, as an honest man, I must condemn. The coalition which is so eagerly embraced, I am sorry to say, by so many advocates of Free Soil—who ask no questions of their Democratic associates, but are ready to swallow, without even a wry face, not only Democratic measures, but the most crooked, indigestible pro-slavery Democrats in the State—is not calculated to maintain the respectability of our party. Indeed, the corruption is too palpable. The veil is so flimsy that any man may see through it, and know that place has more to do with the arrangement than principle. Indeed, many honest Democrats are disgusted with it, and have cut loose from the whole. 

Autolycus. Well, what of it? If you can point out any other way by which we can defeat the Whigs, and get offices for ourselves and friends, I should be glad to know it. 

Honestus. Why should we look for offices—we, who profess to act on the broad and immutable basis of philanthropy—who claim to be stimulated by a deep and inherent love of the whole human race? The approval of our own consciences, is surely reward enough for actions growing out of such pure and hallowed feelings.

Autolycus. Pooh, my friend, you are behind the age. Such notions are antiquated, puritanical and obsolete. Who ever heard of a political party organized for any other object, than to control the government, and get a share—a lion's share—of the lucrative and honorable places? The maxim that "every thing is fair in politics," is sanctioned by custom through many ages, and we ought not to be the first to dispute it. Can you, or any reasonable man, think that our eloquent stump orators, who are now thridding the State and inveighing so vehemently against the Whigs, would indulge in such a terrible expenditure of breath and words, to say nothing of the wear and tear of that conscience, which your prate about so much, were it not with the blessed expectation of securing offices of emolument, provided the Coalition is triumphant and the Democrats stick to the bargain?

Honestus. These principles may suit your notions of propriety but they do not correspond with mine. I embarked on this political crusade, and joined the Free Soil standard, because I saw it raised in behalf of HUMANITY and FREEDOM—little thinking that I should be auxiliary to the contemptible work of glorifying disappointed politicians, and foisting noisy demagogues into office. To be plain, I am dissatisfied with the conduct of the Free Soil leaders, and the undignified and unscrupulous tone of the Free Soil presses in the State. I despise this coalition—this fraternizing with Locofocos, whose principles I always detested, and among whom, it is clear as any proposition in Euclid, that the whole Free Soil party will be merged in less than six months? 

Autolycus. It may be so. Things more unlikely have taken place before now. But surely, my friend, you are an advocate of the great "reforms" which were introduced into the Legislature the last session, and which are to be perfected next year, if we—that is, the coalition—get the upper hand in the Legislature!

Honestus. What is there in the character of these reforms which can induce me, as an honest man looking to the good of his fellow-men, to give them my support? you know as well as myself, that all this agitation about "reform" is a mere clap-trap, to gull the people and make capital. But the signs of the times show that the multitude will no longer submit to be gulled.

 Autolycus. But my dear sir, these are Democratic measures—popular of course, and as such must have the support of our party. They are a part of the bargain!

Honestus.  True, but that does not increase their value in my estimation—nor does it look well to see the Democratic party, our dear brethren if I must call them so, who have always opposed manufacturing corporations in the abstract, as an item in their political creed, bringing forward and passing with our assistance, a law to multiply them by thousands, and another which virtually offers a premium for the multiplication of banks, to which a few years ago, they professed their abhorrence! And as for this lien law, which was thought would be popular, and was enacted for the sole purpose of catching the votes of mechanics, it is found in practice to be detrimental to their interests. In Boston alone, since it has gone into operation, it has kept thousands of dollars out of their pockets, to my certain knowledge. The secret ballot law, for which the coalition have claimed much credit, and which is clogged with an immense quantity of useless and expensive machinery, is another of these boasted reform measures, which the people never asked for, and which is about as useful in Massachusetts where every man can boldly look his employer in the face, and vote as his own sense of duty dictates—as a fifth wheel to a coach. And then there is all this gabble about amending the Constitution, and putting the State to the expense of several hundred thousand dollars, for remedying evils which have not even an imaginary existence.— This is all mere humbug, a most shallow device got up for political effect, and you know it. 

Autolycus. Well, well, my dear sir, we must have some ground to stand upon—some measures to talk about—and these will answer as well as anything else. It will not do to be too nice. Honesty and consistency are good enough things in their way, but will not do for us in the present stage of our political existence; and if we, that is, the leaders of the Free Soil party, stuck as closely to conscience and high moral principle as we profess, what reward could we expect for the great sacrifices we have made? But soaring above these things we go for the "Higher Law." Surely you cannot object to that.

Honestus. The higher law! So you would let the promptings of a fanatical spirit override the Constitution of the country, and convert it virtually into a tabula rasa, on which any man may scribble what he pleases. Those minds which can be influenced by such a consideration must be weak indeed. For my own part whatever laws are enacted by the government of the people, under which I live and enjoy many blessings, I conceive myself bound to obey. Such is the duty I owe to myself, my country and my God! 

 Autolycus. My friend, you must not be too scrupulous. Having abandoned conscience, we must hold on to this "Higher Law." Why, you would knock away at a blow our firmest, and almost our only support. You must not be too severe on our system of policy, which is a little loose and profligate, perhaps; but recollect that a desperate cause requires desperate measures. It is true our original platform has slid from under us, but we have still a great and noble object in view, the destruction of the Whig party in the Commonwealth. 

Honestus. To build up Locofocoism on its ruins!

Autolycus. That of course will be the result. Indeed, some of our most zealous and influential leaders, as Giddings, Chase, and Mann, have already espoused the cause of Democracy, and battle manfully against the Whig principles which they once were so eager to defend. 

Honestus. Such conduct is not entitled to respect, but must be censured by every unprejudiced politician. Certain I am that I shall not emulate their example. To be frank with you, I cannot cherish these feelings of bitter hostility against the Whigs, having been for many years in their ranks, and being fully aware that the proud eminence which Massachusetts now occupies among the States, is mainly owing to the wise measures adopted through a succession of years by Whig administrations. 

Autolycus. I was a Whig once as well as yourself. Who was more zealous in behalf of Whig principles and Whig men, or who warred more fiercely against the Locos? But my merit was not appreciated—which is now no longer the case—and my services were unrewarded; and now no scruples of conscience will prevent my becoming a Democrat, perhaps a National Democrat, provided the Free Soil party becomes defunct. But believe me, we shall fight hard for victory. If there be any virtue in "stump speaking," the victory will be ours!

Honestus. You may rest assured that the people will not be deceived a second time. You will find that these outpourings of "slang-whanging," both on the stump and in the columns of our papers, will be thrown away. The people require something more than bold assertions and bitter invectives. I know there are many men who from pure motives have joined and hitherto acted with the Free Soil party, but who have no sympathies with a Locofoco or an Abolitionist. At any rate I can speak for myself—and nothing would induce me to vote for such men as Ithamar W. Beard, or Samuel E. Sewall.  [Exit Honestus. 

Autolycus, (alone.) On election day we shall find that man among the missing, or enrolled in the Whig ranks. This is the curse of honesty! Well said the poet— 

"Thus conscience does make cowards of us all!"

 But he may not be so very honest notwithstanding. Perhaps he adopts the principle that "rats will desert a sinking ship." And, I must confess, matters and things look squally enough. There is nothing left for me, however, but to stick to the Coalition as long as it will hold together, and if we are defeated, the arms of the Locofocos are open to receive me. They will gladly enfold me in their warm embrace. 

Coincidentally, the Boston Journal characterized Abolitionist Free Soilers as "real sons of Ishmael," shortly after Moby-Dick was first published in America. As reprinted in another Whig newspaper, the weekly National Aegis (Worcester, MA) on November 19, 1851:

THE GROWTH, PROSPECTS AND END OF THE FREE SOIL PARTY. 

This party — if such a faction is entitled to the name — was organized to oppose the election of General Taylor in 1848. That it has had in its ranks a great deal of talent and ability—a great deal of cunning and hypocrisy—the elements of success in a good cause, and the power to sustain a bad one, no one will deny.

It commenced trade — for it has been a trading concern from the beginning — with a capital of about 12,000 Abolitionists — real sons of Ishmael, whose hands had been against every man's for years, and who had been so long in a hopeless minority, and who were so perfectly accustomed to contending against overwhelming odds, that they formed the best nucleus for a new party which could possibly have been found....

National Aegis - November 19, 1851
via Genealogy Bank

MELVILLE on William Bebb's 1846 campaign rally in Akron, Ohio

First published in the Cleveland Plain Dealer on June 15, 1846 and transcribed below, this juicy critique of a Whig rally for gubernatorial candidate William Bebb in Akron, Ohio takes the form of a letter to editor Joseph W. Gray signed "Melville." Bebb won the election and would serve one term as Ohio's 19th governor. The partisan report from "Melville" is dated June 13, 1846 and gives the place of writing as Western Reserve College in Hudson, Ohio. 

Herman Melville wrote his Uncle Peter Gansevoort from Lansingburgh the same day, June 13, 1846, on which the Ohio letter is dated. I don't know how he could have been in two places nearly five hundred miles apart at once, but this "Melville" who writes of deluded Millerites, Bob Acre's valor, a dancing elephant, Aesop's Ass, a notably "stretchy" conscience, and "grandiloquent presages" sounds, well, remarkably like Herman Melville.

For instance, Ohio Melville compares attempts at humor by Thomas Ewing to "an elephant essaying the dance of a harlequin." Herman Melville made a very similar comparison in an erased annotation to Book 6 of Milton's Paradise Lost. As reported in the June 2015 Leviathan by Peter Norberg and Steven Olsen-Smith in consultation with Dennis Marnon, Melville wrote:

"These two brigades [of] artillerymen, in their heavy maneuvers, suggest the idea of a couple of Siam elephants essaying to dance the Polka."  --Newly Recovered Erased Annotations in Melville's Marginalia to Milton's Poetical Works

Both Melvilles use the dancing elephant as an image of incongruity, and both use the word essaying. At Melville's Marginalia Online you can see Melville's recovered annotation (via the enhanced image feature), and all the other markings in Melville's two-volume set of The Poetical Works of John Milton.

Hudson, Ohio Melville writes of the dull Whig meeting that:

"A general indifference and coldness seemed to pervade all"

while Herman Melville had just written to Gansevoort (deceased) that

"A military arder pervades all ranks."  --Correspondence, ed. Lynn Horth - page 40

At the Akron rally Bebb "manfully stood his ground" in a downpour, while his auditors were rapidly "dispersing." In a scene yet to be written from Herman Melville's next book, Omoo, the drunken first mate Jermin "stood his ground manfully" against murderous sailors until "they dispersed."

In Lansingburgh, Herman Melville was dealing with the sudden loss of his older brother Gansevoort Melville, who had died on May 12, 1846 in London. On behalf of the grieving family, Herman had the duty of writing James Buchanan (Secretary of State), William L. Marcy (Secretary of War), and even President Polk himself for the necessary financial support to settle Gansevoort's affairs and bring home his body. Hershel Parker gives a full account of Gansevoort's death and the impact on Herman in the first volume of Herman Melville: A Biography (see especially pages 424-5).

The Whig rally for William Bebb that Ohio "Melville" describes took place in Akron on Friday, June 12, 1846. Did Herman Melville ever visit anybody at Western Reserve College, now Case Western Reserve University, in Hudson, Ohio? By any chance, could Herman Melville actually have been in Akron, Ohio with a "companion" on June 12, 1846? Or, how about Allan Melville? Where was he?

Update 6/10/2017: Paying more attention to the heading, the likeliest Melville might be found in the roll of students at Case Western College. Among 1847 graduates listed in A Register of the Graduates of Western Reserve College is one Luther Melville Oviatt.



At the 1846 graduation exercises, Luther Melville Oviatt spoke on "The Literature of the Day." At his own graduation ceremony the next summer (August 1847), Luther Melville Oviatt gave the Valedictory Address, with an oration titled "The Progress of Human Rights." Soon thereafter he was hired as a schoolteacher. By 1850 he was Principal of Prospect St. school in Cleveland. In 1869, Luther M. Oviatt would become the first librarian of the Public School Library, later the Cleveland Public Library.

Luther Melville Oviatt (1821-1889)
via Cleveland Metropolitan School District

The Hudson correspondent appears to have been in Ohio for some weeks, long enough to have seen "grandiloquent" advance notices of the Akron stop by William Bebb: 

"More than two weeks ago, huge placards, flaunting in all the magnificence of letters six inches long or less, announced, in grandiloquent language, preparations for a Mass Meeting, at Akron, of the citizens of Summit county...."

The letter from "Melville" (Luther Melville Oviatt, probably) on the Whig rally in Akron first appeared in the June 15, 1846 issue of the Cleveland Plain Dealer, the Democratic newspaper founded and edited by Joseph William Gray. Melville's letter to the editor "Mr. Gray" was reprinted in the Weekly Plain Dealer on June 17, 1846.

Cleveland Plain Dealer - June 15, 1846
found in the Archives of Historical Newspapers at GenealogyBank.com

Whig "Mass Meeting" at Akron. 

W. R. COLLEGE, HUDSON,
SUMMIT CO., June 13, 1846.

MR. GRAY:— Perhaps some random notes from this benighted region of Whiggery may not be wholly devoid of interest, amid the more exciting topic of Mexican campaigning. This seems a sore subject for the Whigs to meddle with, since, with the experience of the Past before them, they feel assured that, should they openly condemn the prosecution of a war forced upon us by Mexican bravado and arrogance, the indignation of the people would descend with crushing weight upon their heads, and annihilate their hopes of prospective power.

More than two weeks ago, huge placards, flaunting in all the magnificence of letters six inches long or less, announced, in grandiloquent language, preparations for a Mass Meeting, at Akron, of the citizens of Summit county, at which individuals of no less importance that "Solitude" EWING, of scrip memory, WILLIAM BEBB, Coon candidate for Governor, and other "distinguished speakers," not of sufficient importance to merit naming beside Ewing and Bebb, were expected to be present. Strenuous efforts were made by leading Whigs in the various townships in the county to induce a general attendance, in order, I imagine, that the imposing array, the "pomp and circumstance," might infuse foreboding terror into the hearts of the "Locos." Well, the day arrived; the air was kind and genial; and there was naught, save lack of inclination, to prevent a general attendance of the "mass" of Whigs of Summit. Ewing was programmed to appear in the performance at 10 o'clock A. M.; but, at that time, none of the Stumpers had appeared, and a number of zealous Coons set out to usher them en route from Massillon. Their advent seemed an object of as much anxiety to some, who feared lest the projected fandango should result in a failure, as did that of a mightier personage to the Millerites of the same place but a short time since. However, to their great relief, the cavalcade at last appeared. I did not see it when it arrived, or I should give you a description of its appearance. I, credulous "Loco," had imagined there would be at least some slight demonstration—a roar from a 6 pounder, or at least a shout to hail the advent of men whom I had supposed they "delighted to honor," as erst in the days of '40. But no! their enthusiasm had, like Bob Acre's valor, oozed out of their fingers' ends; and if there was any token of exultation at their arrival, it never reached my ears. It was far more like a funeral procession, I must imagine, than anything else, for I came into the main street of Akron, and seeing it full of men intent upon their several occupations, I supposed that Ewing, Bebb, & Co., had not yet arrived; but seeing certain stragglers wending their lonely way to the east, myself and my companion followed, and after a walk of half a mile came upon the "stumping" ground. I first caught sight of Seabury Ford elevated upon a stand four feet high, making strange gestures and stranger remarks and explanations upon the Tax Law. It was a hard subject for him; he endeavored to deal in sophisms in illustrating the manner in which Farmers and Bankers were taxed, but not being skillful in metaphysical reasoning, involved himself in absurdities; and finally, with an expression of face that might be interpreted into "this is a nut that the Devil may crack," vacated the stand, when the meeting was adjourned till half past one, when it was announced that Thos. Ewing would hold forth. There were not on the ground more than three hundred, all told. A general indifference and coldness seemed to pervade all. 

At the appointed time, "Solitude" took the stand. He is rather unprepossessing in appearance, owing to his small, half closed eyes, bald on the top of his head, with a face somewhat full. His subject was "The Tariff." Worn out and frittered into rags by the spouting of magniloquent Whig orators and the labored essays of Greely and the mimic tribe who howl in unison when their master gives the token, it receives no new light from the dull, prosy speech of Ewing. He endeavored to raise a laugh from the crowd at some of his miserable witticisms, but his efforts were a burlesque on the ludicrous—about as easy as an elephant essaying the dance of a harlequin, or as the Ass, in Aesop, imitating the sportive antics of the kitten. His mind dwells on the past. He is emphatically one of the "Old Hunkers" of the Whig party—one who has fed at the public crib when Whiggery was in the ascendant, till he fancies that he has a right, like the daughters of the Horse Leech, to cry continually, "give, give." He flatters himself that the country cannot dispense with his services—that he shall yet be invested with power. Yet, while the voice of the Revolutionary patriots, of the widows and orphans who suffered by his unholy chicanery in the scrip speculations cry out against him, I trust that we shall never see him elevated to dignities he is unworthy to obtain. He spoke two hours or more, and to my mind performed marvelously in the form of the "disappointed politician." 

Bebb next took the stand, and to my utter amazement at his versatility, in five minutes launched headlong into a dozen different themes, hitting at random, both in remark and gesture, upon every thing,—Texas, Mexico, Presidential measures, alleged duplicity in the Administration, defeat of the people's will in the Baltimore Convention, coalition between Polk and Southern members, Ohio Tax Law, etc etc. His manner struck me as that of a fawning politician, who will "crook the pliant hinges of the knee, that thrift may follow fawning." I saw him at a private house, subsequent to the "speechifying," bowing, scraping and curvetting to those introduced in rather an undignified manner. He had not spoken more than ten minutes, when a shower came up and instantly there was hurry, confusion, and dispersing. Bebb, however, manfully stood his ground, resolved to "say his say" though waterspouts descended.

The rain, however, was not very severe, and a portion remained for about three-quarters of an hour, when they adjourned, most of them "pretty considerably soaked." Auditor Wood was on the platform, but if he had desired it, had no opportunity to evince his talent for "stumping." The whole number of auditors could not, I think, by any stretch of the imagination, exceed 800. My own opinion is that it was less than that number. Whigs, with consciences like india rubber, actually declare there were two thousand on the ground! But no man, without a particle of prejudice, could estimate the number, including all who lounged about the cake and beer stands, 250 higher than I have done. About 150 ladies were present, a part of whom, with a perseverance worthy of all credit had it been otherwise directed, remained till the close and with dripping bonnets and soiled dresses wended their cheerless route homewards. I myself did not hear Bebb through, as to me the rain was at variance with comfort, but went to the village and noted the comers-in, whose doleful countenances attested the penance they had undergone in endeavoring by their presence to prop a sinking cause.

Thus ended this day ushered in with such grandiloquent presages, whose result was mortification and disappointment to Summit County Whiggery. As for the Democrats, they merely laughed in their sleeves at the paltry subterfuges to which the Whigs resort to "keep up appearances." The Democracy of Summit are firm, and though outnumbered by the deluded votaries of Alfred Kelley humbuggery, will present an unyielding front to the enemy; and, though defeated, shrink not, but "push on the column," till, like the gallant Perry, they can shout—"We have met the enemy, and they are ours!" Fear not for the Democracy of Summit.
Sincerely yours, MELVILLE.

Melville's Politics

Today's lesson in Political History comes from on high, delivered via this eerily familiar Voice from the Gods in Mardi; and a voyage thither (1849):

Rambling on, we espied a clamorous crowd gathered about a conspicuous palm, against which, a scroll was fixed.

The people were violently agitated; storming out maledictions against the insolent knave, who, over night must have fixed there, that scandalous document. But whoever he may have been, certain it was, he had contrived to hood himself effectually.

After much vehement discussion, during which sundry inflammatory harangues were made from the stumps of trees near by, it was proposed, that the scroll should be read aloud, so that all might give ear.

Seizing it, a fiery youth mounted upon the bowed shoulders of an old man, his sire; and with a shrill voice, ever and anon interrupted by outcries, read as follows:—

“Sovereign-kings of Vivenza! it is fit you should hearken to wisdom. But well aware, that you give ear to little wisdom except of your own; and that as freemen, you are free to hunt down him who dissents from your majesties; I deem it proper to address you anonymously.

“And if it please you, you may ascribe this voice to the gods: for never will you trace it to man.

“It is not unknown, sovereign-kings! that in these boisterous days, the lessons of history are almost discarded, as superseded by present experiences. And that while all Mardi’s Present has grown out of its Past, it is becoming obsolete to refer to what has been. Yet, peradventure, the Past is an apostle.

“The grand error of this age, sovereign-kings! is the general supposition, that the very special Diabolus is abroad; whereas, the very special Diabolus has been abroad ever since Mardi began.

“And the grand error of your nation, sovereign-kings! seems this:— The conceit that Mardi is now in the last scene of the last act of her drama; and that all preceding events were ordained, to bring about the catastrophe you believe to be at hand — a universal and permanent Republic.

“May it please you, those who hold to these things are fools, and not wise.

“Time is made up of various ages; and each thinks its own a novelty. But imbedded in the walls of the pyramids, which outrun all chronologies, sculptured stones are found, belonging to yet older fabrics.

Image Credit: Guillaume Blanchard via Wikimedia Commons

And as in the mound-building period of yore, so every age thinks its erections will forever endure. But as your forests grow apace, sovereign-kings! overrunning the tumuli in your western vales; so, while deriving their substance from the past, succeeding generations overgrow it; but in time, themselves decay.

“Oro decrees these vicissitudes.

“In chronicles of old, you read, sovereign kings! that an eagle from the clouds presaged royalty to the fugitive Taquinoo; and a king, Taquinoo reigned; No end to my dynasty, thought he.

“But another omen descended, foreshadowing the fall of Zooperbi, his son; and Zooperbi returning from his camp, found his country a fortress against him.

Tarquinius Superbus makes himself King; Image by John Leech
from The Comic History of Rome by Gilbert Abbott à Beckett (c. 1850s)

No more kings would she have. And for five hundred twelve-moons the Regifugium or King’s-flight, was annually celebrated like your own jubilee day. And rampant young orators stormed out detestation of kings; and augurs swore that their birds presaged immortality to freedom.

“Then, Romara’s free eagles flew over all Mardi, and perched on the topmost diadems of the east.

“Ever thus must it be.

“For, mostly, monarchs are as gemmed bridles upon the world, checking the plungings of a steed from the Pampas. And republics are as vast reservoirs, draining down all streams to one level; and so, breeding a fullness which can not remain full, without overflowing. And thus, Romara flooded all Mardi, till scarce an Ararat was left of the lofty kingdoms which had been.

“Thus, also, did Franko, fifty twelve-moons ago.

The Battle of Abukir, 25 July 1799 by Antoine-Jean Gros (1806)

Thus may she do again. And though not yet, have you, sovereign-kings! in any large degree done likewise, it is because you overflow your redundancies within your own mighty borders; having a wild western waste, which many shepherds with their flocks could not overrun in a day. Yet overrun at last it will be; and then, the recoil must come.

“And, may it please you, that thus far your chronicles had narrated a very different story, had your population been pressed and packed, like that of your old sire-land Dominora. Then, your great experiment might have proved an explosion; like the chemist’s who, stirring his mixture, was blown by it into the air.

“For though crossed, and recrossed by many brave quarterings, and boasting the great Bull in your pedigree; yet, sovereign-kings! you are not meditative philosophers like the people of a small republic of old; nor enduring stoics, like their neighbors. Pent up, like them, may it please you, your thirteen original tribes had proved more turbulent, than so many mutinous legions.

Free horses need wide prairies; and fortunate for you, sovereign-kings! that you have room enough, wherein to be free.

“And, may it please you, you are free, partly, because you are young. Your nation is like a fine, florid youth, full of fiery impulses, and hard to restrain; his strong hand nobly championing his heart. On all sides, freely he gives, and still seeks to acquire. The breath of his nostrils is like smoke in spring air; every tendon is electric with generous resolves. The oppressor he defies to his beard; the high walls of old opinions he scales with a bound. In the future he sees all the domes of the East.

“But years elapse, and this bold boy is transformed. His eyes open not as of yore; his heart is shut up as a vice. He yields not a groat; and seeking no more acquisitions, is only bent on preserving his hoard. The maxims once trampled under foot, are now printed on his front; and he who hated oppressors, is become an oppressor himself.

“Thus, often, with men; thus, often, with nations. Then marvel not, sovereign-kings! that old states are different from yours; and think not, your own must forever remain liberal as now.

“Each age thinks its own is eternal. But though for five hundred twelve-moons, all Romara, by courtesy of history, was republican; yet, at last, her terrible king-tigers came, and spotted themselves with gore.

“And time was, when Dominora was republican, down to her sturdy back-bone. The son of an absolute monarch became the man Karolus; and his crown and head, both rolled in the dust.

Image Credit: Philadelphia Print Shop

And Dominora had her patriots by thousands; and lusty Defenses, and glorious Areopagiticas were written, not since surpassed; and no turban was doffed save in homage of Oro.

“Yet, may it please you, to the sound of pipe and tabor, the second King Karolus returned in good time; and was hailed gracious majesty by high and low.

Charles II of England
Coronation portrait by John Michael Wright, c. 1661

“Throughout all eternity, the parts of the past are but parts of the future reversed. In the old foot-prints, up and down, you mortals go, eternally traveling your Sierras. And not more infallible the ponderings of the Calculating Machine than the deductions from the decimals of history.

“In nations, sovereign-kings! there is a transmigration of souls; in you, is a marvelous destiny. The eagle of Romara revives in your own mountain bird, and once more is plumed for her flight.

Her screams are answered by the vauntful cries of a hawk; his red comb yet reeking with slaughter. And one East, one West, those bold birds may fly, till they lock pinions in the midmost beyond.

“But, soaring in the sky over the nations that shall gather their broods under their wings, that bloody hawk may hereafter be taken for the eagle.

“And though crimson republics may rise in constellations, like fiery Aldebarans, speeding to their culminations; yet, down must they sink at last, and leave the old sultan-sun in the sky; in time, again to be deposed.

“For little longer, may it please you, can republics subsist now, than in days gone by. For, assuming that Mardi is wiser than of old; nevertheless, though all men approached sages in intelligence, some would yet be more wise than others; and so, the old degrees be preserved. And no exemption would an equality of knowledge furnish, from the inbred servility of mortal to mortal; from all the organic causes, which inevitably divide mankind into brigades and battalions, with captains at their head.

“Civilization has not ever been the brother of equality. Freedom was born among the wild eyries in the mountains; and barbarous tribes have sheltered under her wings, when the enlightened people of the plain have nestled under different pinions.

“Though, thus far, for you, sovereign-kings! your republic has been fruitful of blessings; yet, in themselves, monarchies are not utterly evil. For many nations, they are better than republics; for many, they will ever so remain. And better, on all hands, that peace should rule with a scepter, than than the tribunes of the people should brandish their broadswords. Better be the subject of a king, upright and just; than a freeman in Franko, with the executioner’s ax at every corner.

“It is not the prime end, and chief blessing, to be politically free. And freedom is only good as a means; is no end in itself. Nor, did man fight it out against his masters to the haft, not then, would he uncollar his neck from the yoke. A born thrall to the last, yelping out his liberty, he still remains a slave unto Oro; and well is it for the universe, that Oro’s scepter is absolute.

“World-old the saying, that it is easier to govern others, than oneself. And that all men should govern themselves as nations, needs that all men be better, and wiser, than the wisest of one-man rulers. But in no stable democracy do all men govern themselves. Though an army be all volunteers, martial law must prevail. Delegate your power, you leagued mortals must. The hazard you must stand. And though unlike King Bello of Dominora, your great chieftain, sovereign-kings! may not declare war of himself; nevertheless, has he done a still more imperial thing:— gone to war without declaring intentions. You yourselves were precipitated upon a neighboring nation, ere you knew your spears were in your hands.

“But, as in stars you have written it on the welkin, sovereign-kings! you are a great and glorious people. And verily, yours is the best and happiest land under the sun. But not wholly, because you, in your wisdom, decreed it: your origin and geography necessitated it. Nor, in their germ, are all your blessings to be ascribed to the noble sires, who of yore fought in your behalf, sovereign-kings! Your nation enjoyed no little independence before your Declaration declared it. Your ancient pilgrims fathered your liberty; and your wild woods harbored the nursling. For the state that today is made up of slaves, can not tomorrow transmute her bond into free; though lawlessness may transform them into brutes. Freedom is the name for a thing that is not freedom; this, a lesson never learned in an hour or an age. By some tribes it will never be learned.

“Yet, if it please you, there may be such a thing as being free under Caesar. Ages ago, there were as many vital freemen, as breathe vital air today.

“Names make not distinctions; some despots rule without swaying scepters. Though King Bello’s palace was not put together by yoked men; your federal temple of freedom, sovereign-kings! was the handiwork of slaves.

Slave Labor Commemorative Marker

“It is not gildings, and gold maces, and crown jewels alone, that make a people servile. There is much bowing and cringing among you yourselves, sovereign-kings! Poverty is abased before riches, all Mardi over; any where, it is hard to be a debtor; any where, the wise will lord it over fools; every where, suffering is found.

“Thus, freedom is more social than political. And its real felicity is not to be shared. That is of a man’s own individual getting and holding. It is not, who rules the state, but who rules me. Better be secure under one king, than exposed to violence from twenty millions of monarchs, though oneself be of the number.

“But superstitious notions you harbor, sovereign kings! Did you visit Dominora, you would not be marched straight into a dungeon. And though you would behold sundry sights displeasing, you would start to inhale such liberal breezes; and hear crowds boasting of their privileges; as you, of yours. Nor has the wine of Dominora, a monarchical flavor.

“Now, though far and wide, to keep equal pace with the times, great reforms, of a verity, be needed; nowhere are bloody revolutions required. Though it be the most certain of remedies, no prudent invalid opens his veins, to let out his disease with his life. And though all evils may be assuaged; all evils can not be done away. For evil is the chronic malady of the universe; and checked in one place, breaks forth in another.

“Of late, on this head, some wild dreams have departed.

“There are many, who erewhile believed that the age of pikes and javelins was passed; that after a heady and blustering youth, old Mardi was at last settling down into a serene old age; and that the Indian summer, first discovered in your land, sovereign kings! was the hazy vapor emitted from its tranquil pipe.

New Netherland - smoking the peace pipe
Image Credit:  Wikimedia Commons

But it has not so proved. Mardi’s peaces are but truces. Long absent, at last the red comets have returned. And return they must, though their periods be ages. And should Mardi endure till mountain melt into mountain, and all the isles form one table-land; yet, would it but expand the old battle-plain.

“Students of history are horror-struck at the massacres of old; but in the shambles, men are being murdered today. Could time be reversed, and the future change places with the past, the past would cry out against us, and our future, full as loudly, as we against the ages foregone. All the Ages are his children, calling each other names.

“Hark ye, sovereign-kings! cheer not on the yelping pack too furiously: Hunters have been torn by their hounds. Be advised; wash your hands. Hold aloof. Oro has poured out an ocean for an everlasting barrier between you and the worst folly which other republics have perpetrated. That barrier hold sacred. And swear never to cross over to Porpheero, by manifesto or army, unless you traverse dry land.

“And be not too grasping, nearer home. It is not freedom to filch. Expand not your area too widely, now. Seek you proselytes? Neighboring nations may be free, without coming under your banner. And if you can not lay your ambition, know this: that it is best served, by waiting events.

“Time, but Time only, may enable you to cross the equator; and give you the Arctic Circles for your boundaries.”

So read the anonymous scroll; which straightway, was torn into shreds.

“Old tory, and monarchist!” they shouted, “Preaching over his benighted sermons in these enlightened times! Fool! does he not know that all the Past and its graves are being dug over?”

They were furious; so wildly rolling their eyes after victims, that well was it for King Media, he wore not his crown; and in silence, we moved unnoted from out the crowd.

--Herman Melville, Mardi