The Wit and Humor of America, Volume IV. (of X.)
Page 39
THE LOAFER AND THE SQUIRE
BY PORTE CRAYON
The squire himself was the type of a class found only among the ruralpopulation of our Southern States--a class, the individuals of which areconnected by a general similarity of position and circumstance, butpresent a field to the student of man infinite in variety, rich inoriginality.
As the isolated oak that spreads his umbrageous top in the meadowsurpasses his spindling congener of the forest, so does the countrygentleman, alone in the midst of his broad estate, outgrow the man ofcrowds and conventionalities in our cities. The oak may have theadvantage in the comparison, as his locality and consequent superiorityare permanent. The Squire, out of his own district, we ignore. Whetherintrinsically, or simply in default of comparison, at home he isinvariably a great man. Such, at least, was Squire Hardy. Sour andcynical in speech, yet overflowing with human kindness; contemningluxury and expense in dress and equipage, but princely in hishospitality; praising the olden time to the disparagement of thepresent; the mortal foe of progressionists and fast people in everydepartment; above all, a philosopher of his own school, he judged by thelaw of Procrustes, and permitted no appeals; opinionated and arbitraryas the Czar, he was sauced by his negroes, respected and loved by hisneighbors, led by the nose by his wife and daughters, and the abjectslave of his grandchildren.
His house was as big as a barn, and, as his sons and daughters married,they brought their mates home to the old mansion. "It will be timeenough for them to hive," quoth the Squire, "when the old box is full."
Notwithstanding his contempt for fast men nowadays, he is rather pleasedwith any allusion to his own youthful reputation in that line, and notunfrequently tells a good story on himself. We can not omit one told bya neighbor, as being characteristic of the times and manners forty yearsago:
At Culpepper Court-house, or some court-house thereabout, Dick Hardy,then a good-humored, gay young bachelor, and the prime favorite of bothsexes, was called upon to carve the pig at the court dinner. Thedistrict judge was at the table, the lawyers, justices, and everybodyelse that felt disposed to dine. At Dick's right elbow sat a militiacolonel, who was tricked out in all the pomp and circumstance admittedby his rank. He had probably been engaged on some court-martial,imposing fifty-cent fines on absentees from the last general muster.Howbeit Dick, in thrusting his fork into the back of the pig,bespattered the officer's regimentals with some of the superfluousgravy. "Beg your pardon," said Dick, as he went on with his carving. Nowthese were times when the war spirit was high, and chivalry at apremium. "Beg your pardon" might serve as a napkin to wipe the stainfrom one's honor, but did not touch the question of the greased andspotted regimentals.
The colonel, swelling with wrath, seized a spoon, and deliberatelydipping it into the gravy, dashed it over Dick's prominent shirt-frill.
All saw the act, and with open eyes and mouth sat in astonishedsilence, waiting to see what would be done next. The outraged citizencalmly laid down his knife and fork, and looked at his frill, theofficer, and the pig, one after another. The colonel, unmindful of thepallid countenance and significant glances of the burning eye, leanedback in his chair, with arms akimbo, regarding the young farmer withcool disdain. A murmur of surprise and indignation arose from thecongregated guests. Dick's face turned red as a turkey-gobbler's. Hedeliberately took the pig by the hind legs, and with a sudden whirlbrought it down upon the head of the unlucky officer. Stunned by thesquashing blow, astounded and blinded with streams of gravy and wads ofstuffing, he attempted to rise, but blow after blow from the fat pigfell upon his bewildered head. He seized a carving-knife and attemptedto defend himself with blind but ineffectual fury, and at length, with adesperate effort, rose and took to his heels. Dick Hardy, whose wrathwaxed hotter and hotter, followed, belaboring him unmercifully at everystep, around the table, through the hall, and into the street, the crowdshouting and applauding.
We are sorry to learn that among this crowd were lawyers, sheriffs,magistrates, and constables; and that even his honor the judge,forgetting his dignity and position, shouted in a loud voice, "Give itto him, Dick Hardy! There's no law in Christendom against basting a manwith a roast pig!" Dick's weapon failed before his anger; and when atlength the battered colonel escaped into the door of a friendlydwelling, the victor had nothing in his hands but the hind legs of theroaster. He re-entered the dining-room flourishing these over his head,and venting his still unappeased wrath in great oaths.
The company reassembled, and finished their dinner as best they might.In reply to a toast, Hardy made a speech, wherein he apologized forsacrificing the principal dinner-dish, and, as he expressed it, forputting public property to private uses. In reply to this speech a treatwas ordered. In those good old days folks were not so virtuous but thata man might have cakes and ale without being damned for it, and it ispresumable the day wound up with a spree.
After the squire got older, and a family grew up around him, he was notalways victorious in his contests. For example, a question lately aroseabout the refurnishing of the house. On their return from a visit toRichmond the ladies took it into their heads that the parlors lookedbare and old-fashioned, and it was decided by them in secret conclavethat a change was necessary.
"What!" said he, in a towering passion, "isn't it enough that you spendyour time and money in vinegar to sour sweet peaches, and your sugar tosweeten crab-apples, that you must turn the house you were born intopsy-turvy? God help us! we've a house with windows to let the lightin, and you want curtains to keep it out; we've plastered the walls tomake them white, and now you want to paste blue paper over them; we'vewaxed floors to walk on, and we must pay two dollars a yard for a carpetto save the oak plank! Begone with your nonsense, ye demented jades!"
The squire smote the oak floor with his heavy cane, and the rosypetitioners fled from his presence laughing. In due time, however, theparlors were furnished with carpets, curtains, paper, and all thefixtures of modern luxury. The ladies were, of course, greatlydelighted; and while professing great aversion and contempt for the"tawdry lumber," it was plain to see that the worthy man enjoyed theirpleasure as much as they did the new furniture.
On another occasion, too, did the doughty squire suffer defeat undercircumstances far more humiliating, and from an adversary far lessworthy.
The western horizon was blushing rosy red at the coming of the sun,whose descending chariot was hidden by the thick Indian-summer haze thatcovered lowland and mountain as it were with a violet-tinted veil. Thiswas the condition of things (we were going to say) when Squire Hardysallied forth, charged with a small bag of salt, for the purpose oflooking after his farm generally, and particularly of salting his sheep.It was an interesting sight to see the old gentleman, with hisdignified, portly figure, marching at the head of a long procession ofimproved breeds--the universally-received emblems of innocence andpatience. Barring his modern costume, he might have suggested to theartist's mind a picture of one of the Patriarchs.
Having come to a convenient place, or having tired himself crying_co-nan_, _co-nan_, at the top of his voice, the squire halted. Theblack ram halted, and the long procession of ewes and well-grown lambsmoved up in a dense semicircle, and also halted, expressing theirpleasure at the expected treat by gentle bleatings. The squire stoopedto spread the salt. The black ram, either from most uncivil impatience,or mistaking the movement of the proprietor's coat-tail for a challenge,pitched into him incontinently. "_Plenum sed_," as the Oxonions say. Anattack from behind, so sudden and unexpected, threw the squire sprawlingon his face into a stone pile.
Oh, never was the thunder's jar, The red tornado's wasting wing, Or all the elemental war,
like the fury of Squire Hardy on that occasion.
He recovered his feet with the agility of a boy, his nose bleeding and astone in each hand. The timid flock looked all aghast, while theaudacious offender, so far from having shown any disposition to skulk,stood shaking his head and threatening, as if he had a mind to follow upthe
dastardly attack. The squire let fly one stone, which grazed thevillain's head and killed a lamb. With the other he crippled a favoriteewe. The ram still showed fight, and the vengeful proprietor wouldprobably have soon decimated his flock had not Porte Crayon (who hadbeen squirrel-shooting) made his appearance in time to save them.
"Quick, quick! young man--your gun; let me shoot the cursed brute on thespot."
The squire was frantic with rage, the cause of which our hero, havingseen something of the affray, easily divined. He was unwilling, however,to trust his hair-triggered piece in the hands of his excited host.
"By your leave, Squire, and by your orders, I'll do the shooting myself.Which of them was it?"
"The ram--the d----d black ram--kill him--shoot--don't let him live aminute!"
Crayon leveled his piece and fired. The offender made a bound and felldead, the black blood spouting from his forehead in a stream as thick asyour thumb.
"There, now," exclaimed the squire, with infinite satisfaction, "you'vegot it, you ungrateful brute! You've found something harder than yourown head at last, you cursed reptile! Friend Crayon, that's a capitalgun of yours, and you shot well."
The squire dropped the stones which he had in his hands, and lookingback at the dead body of the belligerent sheep, observed, with athoughtful air, "He was a fine animal, Mr. Crayon--a fine animal, andthis will teach him a good lesson."
"In all likelihood," replied Crayon, dryly, "it will break him of thistrick of butting."
Not long after this occurrence, Squire Hardy went to hear an itinerantphrenologist who lectured in the village. In the progress of hisdiscourse, the lecturer, for purposes of illustration, introduced theskulls of several animals, mapped off in the most correct and scientificmanner.
"Observe, ladies and gentlemen, the head of the wolf: combativenessenormously developed, alimentiveness large, while conscientiousness isentirely wanting. On the other hand, look at this cranium. Herecombativeness is a nullity--absolutely wanting--while the fullness ofthe sentimental organs indicate at once the mild and peacefuldisposition of the sheep."
The squire, who had listened with great attention up to this point,hastily rose to his feet.
"A sheep!" he exclaimed; "did you call a sheep a peaceful animal? I tellyou, sir, it is the most ferocious and unruly beast in existence. Sir, Ihad a ram once--"
"My dear sir," cried the astonished lecturer, "on the authority of ourmost distinguished writers, the sheep is an emblem of peace andinnocence."
"An emblem of the devil," interrupted the squire, boiling over. "You arean ignorant impostor, and your science a humbug. I had a ram once thatwould have taught you more in five seconds than you've learned frombooks in all your lifetime."
And so Squire Hardy put on his hat and walked out, leaving the lecturerto rectify his blunder as best he might.