Back to DemocracyI,
On to DemocracyIII,
***
By Christopher Caustic L. L. D.
MOBOCRACY
ARGUMENT.
I SING French Freedom, wafted o'er
From frantic Gallia's blood'stain'd shore,
And how th' accursed wild-fire found
"Asylum" in Columbian ground;
How honest yeomen, bold and rough,
For lack of Liberty enough,
Seduc'd by bold, ambitious, bad men,
Behave'd, I'm loth to say, like mad men;
And form'd Democracy's inflections,
In Shays' and whiskey-insurrections, �
And other matters you'll discover,
Good reader, when you've read them over.
When Democrats, from public papers,
Learn'd how the French were cutting capers,
They lost the little wits they had,
And were, poor things, completely mad.
No dancing bear, whipp'd round a stake, or
Wild, whirligging Shaking Quaker,
E'er equall'd mad gesticulation
Of Democratic gratulation.
But time would fail to set forth now how
Full many a Democratic pow wow,
Was held in bawling exultation,
For crimes of our dear sister nation.
Nothing would suit the rogues beside
Your mad-cap freedom Frenchifi'd,
Of which they vow'd to import a cargo,
Though Adams strove to lay embargo.
And though �twas shrewdly ug'd by some,
That we had Liberty at home,
Which, like our Chief's religious stuff,
If not the best was good enough.
Still Demo's swore they'd have the frantic
Kind manufactur'd o'er the Atlantic,
Such as our Secretary well knows
Suits whiskey-insurrection fellows.
Now, certain causes, most untoward,
Prepar'd the people to be froward;
Form'd many plausible excuses,
For mobocratical abuses.
When our whig-champions fain would hit on
Successful modes for twarting Britain,
Their leaders thought that they were right in
Whatever kindled ire for fighting.
To paint the ills, which power attend,
Our men of mind their talents lend,
But overlook the great propriety,
Of Power, to guarantie society.
Hence, brave men, who our battles fought,
Did not distinguish as they ought,
The odds, existing, in a high sense,
�Twixt Liberty and boundless license.
And when they found our Chiefs intent
On BUILDING UP A GOVERNMENT;
And that one of its consequences,
Would be some national expenses;
Our honest, clever, country folks,
Did not well relish such dry jokes;
But many a moody murmur mutter'd,
And words to this effect were utter'd:
"We thought that when the war was over,
Americans would live in clover,
That nothing, then, would vex and harass us,
No debts nor taxes to embarrass us.
We've fought a long and bloody war,
But what have we been fighting for,
If, King Gerge thrown off, we are loading
Our backs with weight of one King Bowdoin?
What! Shall we sell our hoes and axes,
For paying arbitrary taxes!
No � and for rulers, we don't need �em
In this good land of perfect freedom!
With all our toil and all our blood,
One tyrant makes another good!
Our boasted freedom is a sham,
Not worth a single whiskey dram!"
Such sentiments had long been brewing,
And boded nothing less than ruin
To our still weak confederation,
Too novel for consolidatin.
Now, fann'd by Gallatin and Shayses,
The fire of civil discord blazes;
And breaks out in a vile rebellion,
Yea, two or three, which I might tell ye on
.
Though rebels, under Shays and Gallatin,
Receiv'd from government a malleting;
And social harmony seem'd ratified,
Too many still remain'd dissatisfied.
The smouldering flame in secret burn'd,
When Jefferson from France return'd,
To aid his party's frantic schemes,
With fresh Illuminated dreams.
In Weishaupt's school his lesson learn'd,
He with pernicious ardour burn'd
To introduce his whimsicalities,
And make them in our land realities.
Nature ne'er made a fitter man
To give effect to such a plan,
Nor do I think, with ten years pother,
That she could hit out such another.
Supported by the factious heads
Of crooked, restless Antifeds,
Rogues, to true Liberty a pest,
Who make her seat a hornet's nest.
He begs the boon, with vast civility,
To introduce perfectibility;
For man, he thinks, unless we manage ill,
Will be one link above an angel.
And now the wicked Faction join'd
To tamper with the public mind,
Of Liberty kept such a bawling,
It seem'd the rogues would take us all in.
But honest people soon behold,
That all, which glitters is not gold,
Discern in sticklers for mobocracy
A deal of scandalous hypocrisy; �
If Justice were not in arrears,
Philosophist would lack their ears,
And therefore don't admire their plan
For perfecting the creature man.
Our Demo's then, with great propriety,
Are hooted at throughout society,
And many a rascally curmudgeon,
Is nicely bang'd with satire's bludgeon
.
Yes, � many Chiefs, whom now they boast,
Were tied to satire's whipping-post;
Their foremost partizans now dashing,
had their deserts in many a lashing.
But still determin'd not to yield,
Though trodden on, they kept the field,
Display'd of feeling lefs the powers,
Than rogues who have been hung for hours.
And nothing seem'd to do them good,
But syllogisms made of wood;
But these, as has been often tried,
Made vast impressions, well applied.
They find the basis of their grandeur
Must be Compos'd of lies and slander,
The only plausible foundation
Of Democratic reputation.
And now their Chief, with other fetches,
Employs a gand of foreign wretches,
To lie down every man of merit,
Of honesty and public spirit;
His sovereign friends, the mob, caresses,
From prostituted hireling presses,
Which spread vile lies with vast sedulity,
T' impose on honest men's credulity;
Gives foreigners our loaves and fishes,
To bend our counsels to his wishes,
To assassinate the reputation
Of those, who built us to a nation;
Fellows, who sped away betimes,
To seek "asylum" from their crimes,
In annals of Old Baily, noted,
Are in "Fedonia," promoted.
Vile renegades of every nation,
Are sure to gain an elevation,
But honest and reputation,
Are passports to a private station.
These wretches now announce hostility
To talents, virtue, and civility �
Direct their Vandalizing ravages,
To make men, like themselves mere savages.
By creeping cunning, overbalance
The wight of wisdom and of talents;
Like Absalom, by wicked arts,
Contrive to steal the people's hearts
.
The leading Demo's have their tools,
a sorry set, "twixt knaves and fools,
But I've no patience to examine a
Crew that's so destitute of stamina.
These by arch demagogues are led on,
And futile promises are fed on,
Enjoying by anticipation,
Some poft of profit in the nation.
And now, to make the people jealous,
The scoundrels undertake to tell us
They are themselves the chosen band,
"Exclusive patriots" of the land.
Thus, when a swindler means to cheat you,
With vast civility he'll treat you,
And in his intercourse pretends
To be you very best of friends.
Such friendship Joab erst employ'e,
When his friend Abner he decoy'd;
And Judas, too, a friend like this,
Betray'd his Master with a kiss.
Not these Pat-Ryots join as one
to twart the plans of Washington,
And puff th' immac'late Thomas Jefferson,
As freedom's truly great and clever son.
E'n Washington, our pride and glory,
They dubb'd a right old British Tory;
Pickering a public defalcator,
Adams a "Hoary-headed Traitor."
And Hamilton, �twas represented,
Had schemes to Tyranny invented,
And that ere long, by sudden start, he
Would make himself a Bonaparte.
That Federal measures must alarm us,
For with prodigious standing armies,
Our Washington, a horrid thing,
Would surely make himself a King.
In short, THEY LIED THRO' THICK AND THIN,
Till Jefferson at last came in,
And made fair promises in plenty,
Provided he'd keep one in twenty. �
For at his grand inauguration,
He made us such a smooth oration,
That many thought, though very odd, he
Was quite the friend of everybody,
Yes, we were raptur'd when he faid,
We're all Republican and Fed-
Ral fellow-citizens, Americans,
And hop'd we'd done with Faction's hurricanes.
With such professions all were suited,
But foon his conduct all refuted,
What time his highness made a shift,
To send our staunchest men adrift.
Our veteran Chiefs of seventy-six,
If by sad chance their politics
Displeas'd the Carter-Mountain hero,
He persecuted like a Nero.
But as I had, from natal hour,
Respect for great men, while in power,
I mean, right merrily to chant o-
Ver his praise in my next canto. pp 98
THE JEFFERSONIAD.
ARGUMENT.
WITH reerence due, and vast humility,
Approaching Don Perfectibility,
We laud the man by Demo's reckon'd
A sort of Jupiter the Second,
Whose most correct administration,
In annals of Illumination,
Will ever shine superbly splendid,
A long time after time is ended!
WITH awe scarce short of adoration,
Before the Glory of our nation,
With scrape submissive, cap in hand,
I, Doctor Caustic, trembling stand;
And offer with that veneration
Due to his highness's high station,
My services, to daub and gloss over
A philanthropical philosopher.
The mighty Chief of Carter's Mountain,
Of Democratic power the fountain,
I would extol; his favour buying,
By most profound and solid lying.
Sure never lucky man of rhyme,
Was blest with subject so sublime,
For ere his virtues I've reported,
I shall, or ought to be � transported!
Touch'd by my pencil, every fault
Shall fade away like mount of falt,
Which late, �tis said, in weather rainy,
Was melted in Louisiana.
Posterity fhall puff the statesman,
Whom I will prove is our firft rate's man,
Nor Gaffer Time shall dare to tarnish
The character I mean to varnish.
Some say our Chief regards religion
No more than wild-goose, or a pigeon;
But I'll maintain what seems an oddity,
He's overstock'd with that commodity.
That man muft have religion plenty,
Who soars from "no God," up to "twenty," �
No doubt, of common folks the odds,
As "no God" is to "twenty Gods."
Though his High Mightiness was skittish,
When menac'd by the bullying British;
The Feds are wrong to make a clatter
About the Carter-Mountain matter.
�Twas better far to make excursion,
By way of something like diversion,
Than like un-philosophic hot-head,
To run the risk of being shot dead.
Such saving prudence, mark'd a sage,
A great man of a former age,
High Falstaff, famous as our head man,
Thought honour nothing to a dead man.
I'll make it plain as College Thesis,
Our Chief as bold as Hercules is,
By proofs which must confound at once,
Each carping, scurrilous, Federal dunce.
A Chief who stands not shilly shally,
But is notorious for � a Sally
,
Might Mars defy in "war's dire tug,"
Or Satan to an Indian hug.
Therefore, ye Feds, if you should now hard
Things mutter of a nerveless coward,
Twill prove your character, ye quizzes,
Black as an Empress's black phiz is.
�Tis true some wicked wags there are,
Who laugh about this dark affair,
But I can tell the shameless faction,
They ought t' admire the same transaction;
And did they rightly comprehend,
How means are sanction'd by the end,
They'd change their grumbling tones sarcastic,
To eulogies encomiastic.
For I will prove, sans disputation,
Our Chief has wondrous calculation;
And is in Politics, as able
As Mazarine or Machiavel.
For where's a readier resource
For that sweet, "social intercourse,"
Which at a grand inauguration
Was promis'd this our happy nation.
And if, by his example, he goes
To recommend the raising negroes,
The chance is surely in his favour
Of being President for ever.
A southern negro is, you see, man,
Already three fifths of a freeman,
And when Virginia gets the staff,
He'll be a freeman and an half.
Great men can never lack supporters,
When manufacture their own voters;
Besides, �tis plain as yonder steeple,
They will be fathers of the people.
And �tis a decent, clever, comical,
New mode of being economical,
For when a black is rais'd, it follows,
It saves a duty of ten dollars.
And he's a wayward blockhead, who says
That making negroes or pappooses,
Is not consistent with the plan,
Of Tom Pain's precious "Rights of Man."
Then Mister Opposition-prater,
Since that reproach to human nature,
The most nefarious Guinea trade
May fall by Presidential aid, �
�Tis plain your best and wisest course is,
With Antifeds to join your forces,
And all combine to daub and gloss over
Our Philanthropical Philosopher.
Though gossip Fame may be a talker
Of an attempt at Mrs. Walker,
Philosophistical perfection,
In morals can have no defection
.
And I'll maintain he is consistent,
His conduct has'nt a single twist in't,
If, having twenty Gods, he drives
To have at least as many wives.
Among our New-School Rights and Duties,
There's no monopoly of beauties,
And he's a churl who will not lend
His pretty wife t' oblige a friend.
And no man who's old and frigid,
Or most unreasonably rigid,
Will e'er "oppugnate" this morality
Of such a pretty genteel quality.
Though he imported Thomas Pain,
(For Chronicleers have lied in vain)
T' oppose with acrimonious vanity,
Law, Order, Morals and Christianity.
�Twas right, for ought I can discover,
To send and fetch the fellow over,
For freedom with his aid may chance,
To thrive here as it does in France.
But though our Chief to all intents is
A paragon of Excellences,
The wicked Feds are always prating
Matters the most calumniating.
For I've heard many a crabbed Fed,
While things like these he muttering said,
Though I stood tortur'd all the while in
A state which set my blood a boiling.
A fine man he to head the nation,
The very soul of fluctuation,
�Twould take the stamina of two men
Like him to make out one old woman.
What though the Democratic host,
His wisdom and his talents boast,
For pelf or office I would lay all
I'm worth, these men would worship Baal.
Demo's may white-wash all they can,
They cannot quite disguise the man,
But something of his native hue,
With all their daubing will peep through.
Wisdom � in him descends to cunning,
Talents � a knack at danger shunning,
Morality � to be complete in
What some old fashion'd folks call cheating.
In literature his reputation,
A fabric is, without foundation,
Those works which please his party, some say,
Are quite exuberant and clumsy.
What though he writes with some facility,
What fascinates our wise mobility,
Who always find out something grand in
Whate'er is past all understanding.
With all his sophimore's rotundity,
Will all his semblance of profundity,
Pore pages over you'll not see a
Novel or well expressed idea.
His stile is tinsel, glare and whimsy,
No lady's novel half so flimsy,
As full of downright contradictions
As Ovid's works are full of fictions.
And, what ideed we might expect,
His morals are incorrect
As are his writings � froth and flummery
Express them both in manner summary.
Was it not something like hypocrisy,
To please the looking-on mobocracy,
For him to sob, and sigh, and groan
O'er the green grave of Washington.
When this same gentleman had paid
One, who set up the lying trade,
A scoundrel from a foreign nation,
To blast that Hero's reputation?
Is it not true he left no stones
Unturn'd for � Gabriel Jones?
Or does he learn from Rights of Man,
To cheat his neighbor when he can?
Thus spake this muttering son of slander,
Which made it plain to each by-stander,
He was a rogue belonging unto
The most nefarious Essex Junto.
Now should I ever hear again,
A grumbler mutter such a strain,
I'll teach the knave by dint of banging,
A prettier method of haranguing.
For know, ye stubborn Feds, that I
Am very nearly six feet high,
Stout in proportion, own a cudgel,
For those of Jefferson, who judge ill.
With plenti-potent paw, a club in,
I'll give each wicked Fed a drubbing,
Who wont humillime succumb,
At beat of our poetic drum.
And kneel before th' mighty man,
Who leads the Democratic van,
The glorious Chief of Carter's Mountain,
Of Democratic power the fountain.
The theme of demi-adoration,
The very right-hand of our nation,
Compar'd with whom, all Heroes must rate
As Gun-boat liken'd to a first rate.
And though I shan't have much to say t' ye,
You'll find my arguments are weighty,
Withal, so manfully propounded,
If not convinc'd, you'll be confounded
.
But now my modest, little Muse,
Who drips with Hyblaean, honey dews,
Her curtsey makes, to curry favor
With Federal gentlefolks, who waver.
Good Messrs. almost Democrats,
If you were not as blind as bats,
Before our Chief, your trembling knees on,
You'd deprecate his wrath in season.
No more at Jefferson be railing,
Nor scout the party now prevailing,
Although the tail has "got the upper"
Hand of the head, for want of crupper.
The character of this our nation
�Tis time to place on some foundation,
Which may without deceit declare
To all mankind just what we are.
And if Americans are Jockies,
If public virtue but a mock is,
Then, � "Hail Columbia! happy land!"
Where scoundrels have the upper hand!
But let Columbia be contented,
As she's at present represented,
Nor at our Democrats be vext,
Lest their great prototype come next.
Now I'm a man who would not keep ill
Terms with my sovereign friends, the people,
have therefore strove, with main and might,
To wash their Ethiopian white.
Then I might suit them to a tittle,
Have stretch'd the truth, and � lied a little,
For which my complaisance, I beg
They'll hoist my Bard-ship up a peg.
Or two, or so, for I've a notion
That none can better bear promotion;
And I'll accept of any thing,
From petty Juryman to King.
Besides, I fancy that his HIGHNESS,
Wont treat his Eulogist with shyness,
But compliment me with a pension,
And fine things which I need not men tion.
For Canto Fourth of this my Poem,
read by his Mightiness, will show him,
He has a friend, expert enough in,
The Chesterfieldian knack of � puffing.
But please his Highness-ship, I wont
Be Deputy to Mr. Hunt;
No, � were it offered, �twould be vain, he
Wont catch me in Louisiana. pp 125.
Back to DemocracyI,
Onward to to DemocracyIII,
Second Edition, Printed for the Author by David Carlisle, Boston, 1805.
Refer to Nathaniel Hawthorne - Thomas Green Fessenden (an obituary) which is posted on the web for a well balanced review of Mr. Fessenden's contribution to the development of the United States.
****
Joe Wortham's Home Page , About Joe Wortham , Directory
Questions? Comments? [email protected]