CHAPTER XIII.
"A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your text?"--_Twelfth Night; or, What You Will._
A month glided swiftly by. During that interval, Frank Malbone was fullyinstalled, and Andries consented to suspend operations with his chainuntil this necessary work was completed. Work it was; for every leasegranted by my grandfather having run out, the tenants had remained ontheir farms by sufferance, or as occupants at will, holding from year toyear under parole agreements made with Mr. Newcome, who had authority togo that far, but no farther.
It was seldom that a landlord, in that day, as I have already said, gotany income from his lands during the first few years of theiroccupation. The great thing was to induce settlers to come; for, wherethere was so much competition, sacrifices had to be made in order toeffect this preliminary object. In compliance with this policy, mygrandfather had let his wild lands for nominal rents in nearly everyinstance, with here and there a farm of particular advantages excepted;and, in most cases, the settler had enjoyed the use of the farm forseveral years, for no rent at all. He paid the taxes, which were merelynominal, and principally to support objects that were useful to theimmediate neighborhood; such as the construction of roads, bridges,pounds, with other similar works, and the administration of justice. Atthe expiration of this period of non-payment of rents, a small sum peracre was agreed to be paid, rather than actually paid, not a dollar ofwhich had ever left the settlement. The landlord was expected to headall subscriptions for everything that was beneficial, or which professedto be beneficial to the estate; and the few hundreds a year, two orthree at most, that my rent-roll actually exhibited, were consumed amongthe farms of the 'Nest. It was matter of record that not one shillinghad the owner of this property, as yet, been able to carry away with himfor his own private purposes. It is true, it had been in his power toglean a little each year for such a purpose; but it was not consideredpolitic, and consequently it was not the practice of the country, inregard to estates so situated and before the revolution; though isolatedcases to the contrary, in which the landlord was particularlyavaricious, or particularly necessitous, may have existed. Our New Yorkproprietors, in that day, were seldom of the class that needed money.Extravagance had been little known to the province, and could not yet beknown to the State; consequently, few lost their property from theirexpenditures, though some did from mismanagement. The trade of "puss inthe corner," or of shoving a man out of his property, in order to placeone's self in it, was little practised previously to the revolution; andthe community always looked upon the intruder into family property witha cold eye, unless he came into possession by fair purchase, and for asufficient price. Legal speculations were then nearly unknown; and hewho got rich was expected to do so by manly exertions, openly exercised,and not by the dark machinations of a sinister practice of the law.
In our case, not a shilling had we, as yet, been benefited by theproperty of Ravensnest. All that had ever been received, and more too,had been expended on the spot; but a time had now arrived when it wasjust and reasonable that the farms should make some returns for all ourcare and outlays.
Eleven thousand acres were under lease, divided among somewhat less thana hundred tenants. Until the first day of the succeeding April, thesepersons could hold their lands under the verbal contracts; but, afterthat day, new leases became necessary. It is not usual for the Americanlandlord to be exacting. It is out of his power, indeed, for the simplereason that land is so much more abundant than men; but, it is not thepractice of the country, a careless indulgence being usually the sin ofthe caste; an indulgence that admits of an accumulation of arrears,which, when pay-day does arrive, is apt to bring with it ill-blood anddiscontent. It is an undeniable truth in morals, that, whatever may bethe feeling at the time, men are rarely grateful for a government thatallows their vices to have a free exercise. They invariably endeavor tothrow a portion of the odium of their own misdeeds on the shoulders ofthose who should have controlled them. It is the same with debts; for,however much we may beg for lenity at the time, accumulations ofinterest wear a very hostile aspect when they present themselves in asum-total, at a moment it is inconvenient to balance the account. Ifthose who have been thus placed would only remember that there is a lastaccount that every man must be called on to settle, arrearages and all,the experience of their worldly affairs might suggest a lesson thatwould be infinitely useful. It is fortunate for us, without exception,that there is a Mediator to aid us in the task.
The time had come when Ravensnest might be expected to producesomething. Guided by the surveys, and our own local knowledge, andgreatly aided by the Chainbearer's experience, Frank Malbone and Ipassed one entire fortnight in classifying the farms; putting the lowestinto the shilling category; others into the eighteen pence; and a dozenfarms or so into the two shillings. The result was, that we placed sixthousand acres at a shilling a year rent; three thousand eight hundredat eighteen pence the acre; and twelve hundred acres at two shillings.The whole made a rental of fourteen thousand one hundred shillings, or afraction more than seventeen hundred and forty-two dollars per annum.This sounded pretty well for the year 1784, and it was exclusively ofthe 'Nest farm, of Jason Newcome's mills and timber-land, which he hadhitherto enjoyed for nothing, or for a mere nominal rent, and all thewild lands.
I will confess I exulted greatly in the result of our calculations.Previously to that day I placed no dependence on Ravensnest for income,finding my support in the other property I had inherited from mygrandfather. On paper, my income was more than doubled, for I received_then_ only some eleven hundred a year (I speak of dollars, not pounds)from my other property. It is true, the last included a great manytown-lots that were totally unproductive, but which promised to be veryvaluable, like Ravensnest itself, at some future day. Most things inAmerica looked to the future, then as now; though I trust the hour offruition is eventually to arrive. My town property has long since becomevery valuable, and tolerably productive.
As soon as our scheme for reletting was matured, Frank summoned theoccupants of the farms, in bodies of ten, to present themselves at the'Nest, in order to take their new leases. We had ridden round theestate, and conversed with the tenantry, and had let my intentions beknown previously, so that little remained to be discussed. The farmswere all relet for three lives, and on my own plan, no one objecting tothe rent, which, it was admitted all round, was not only reasonable, butlow. Circumstances were then too recent to admit of the past's beingforgotten; and the day when the last lease was signed was one of generalsatisfaction. I did think of giving a landlord's dinner, and ofcollecting the whole settlement in a body, for the purpose of jovial andfriendly communion; but old Andries threw cold water on the project.
"T'at would do, Mortaunt," he said, "if you hat only raal New Yorkers,or Middle States men to teal wit'; but more t'an half of t'ese peopleare from t'e Eastern States, where t'ere are no such t'ings as lantlortsand tenants, on a large scale you unterstant; and t'ere isn't a manamong 'em all t'at isn't looking forwart to own his farm one tay, byhook or by crook. T'ey're as jealous of t'eir tignities as if each manwast a full colonel, and will not t'ank you for a tinner at which t'eywill seem to play secont fittle."
Although I knew the Chainbearer had his ancient Dutch prejudices againstour Eastern brethren, I also knew that there was a good deal of truth inwhat he said. Frank Malbone, who was Rhode Island born, had the samenotions, I found on inquiry; and I was disposed to defer to hisopinions. Frank Malbone was a gentleman himself, and men of that classare always superior to low jealousies; but Frank must know better how toappreciate the feelings of those among whom he had been bred and bornthan I could possibly know how to do it myself. The project of thedinner was accordingly abandoned.
It remained to make a new arrangement and a final settlement with Mr.Jason Newcome, who was much the most thriving man at Ravensnest;appearing to engross in his single person all the business of thesettlement. He was magistrate, supervisor, deacon
, according to theCongregational plan, or whatever he is called, miller, store-keeper,will-drawer, tavern-keeper by deputy, and adviser-general, for theentire region. Everything seemed to pass through his hands; or, it wouldbe better to say, everything entered them, though little indeed came outagain. This man was one of those moneyed gluttons, on a small scale, wholive solely to accumulate; in my view, the most odious character onearth; the accumulations having none of the legitimate objects of properindustry and enterprise in view. So long as there was a man near himwhom he supposed to be richer than himself, Mr. Newcome would have beenunhappy; though he did not know what to do with the property he hadalready acquired. One does not know whether to detest or to pity suchcharacters the most; since, while they are and must be repugnant toevery man of right feelings and generous mind, they carry in their ownbosoms the worm that never dies, to devour their own vitals.
Mr. Newcome had taken his removal from the agency in seeming good part,affecting a wish to give it up from the moment he had reason to think itwas to be taken from him. On this score, therefore, all was amicable,not a complaint being made on his side. On the contrary, he met FrankMalbone with the most seeming cordiality, and we proceeded to businesswith as much apparent good-will as had been manifested in any of theprevious bargains. Mr. Newcome did nothing directly; a circuitous pathbeing the one he had been accustomed to travel from childhood.
"You took the mill-lot and the use of five hundred acres of woodlandfrom my grandfather for three lives; or failing these, for a full termof one-and-twenty years, I find, Mr. Newcome," I remarked, as soon as wewere seated at business, "and for a nominal rent; the mills to be keptin repair, and to revert to the landlord at the termination of thelease."
"Yes, Major Littlepage, that _was_ the bargain I will allow, though ahard one has it proved to me. The war come on"--this man was what wascalled liberally educated, but he habitually used bad grammar--"The warcome on, and with it hard times, and I didn't know but the major wouldbe willing to consider the circumstances, if we make a new bargain."
"The war cannot have had much effect to your prejudice, as grain of allsorts bore a high price; and I should think the fact that large armieswere near by, to consume everything you had to sell, and that at highprices, more than compensated for any disadvantage it might haveinduced. You had the benefits of two wars, Mr. Newcome; that of 1775,and a part of that of 1756."
My tenant made no answer to this, finding I had reflected on thesubject, and was prepared to answer him. After a pause, he turned tomore positive things.
"I suppose the major goes on the principle of supposing a legal right inan old tenant to enj'y a new lease? I'm told he has admitted this muchin all his dealin's."
"Then you have been misinformed, sir. I am not weak enough to admit aright that the lease itself, which, in the nature of things, must anddoes form the tenant's only title, contradicts in terms. Your legalinterest in the property ceases altogether in a few days from thistime."
"Y-a-a-s--y-a-a-s--sir, I conclude it doose," said the 'squire, leaningback in his chair, until his body was at an angle of some sixty orseventy degrees with the floor--"I conclude it doose accordin' to thecovenants; but between man and man, there ought to be suthin' morebindin'."
"I know of nothing more binding in a lease than its covenants, Mr.Newcome."
"Wa-a-l"--how that man would 'wa-a-a-l' when he wished to circumvent afellow-creature; and with what a Jesuitical accent did he pronounce theword! "Wa-a-a-l--that's accordin' to folk's idees. A covenant may be_hard_; and then, in my judgment, it ought to go for nothin'. I'm ag'inall hard covenants."
"Harkee, frient Jason," put in the Chainbearer, who was an oldacquaintance of Mr. Newcome's, and appeared thoroughly to understand hischaracter--"Harkee, frient Jason; do you gift back unexpected profits,ven it so happens t'at more are mate on your own pargains t'an were lookfor?"
"It's not of much use to convarse with you, Chainbearer, on suchsubjects, for we'll never think alike," answered the 'squire, leaningstill farther back in his chair; "you're what I call a particular man,in your notions, and we should never agree."
"Still, there is good sense in the Chainbearer's question," I added."Unless prepared to answer 'yes,' I do not see how you can apply yourown principle with any justice. But let this pass as it will, why arecovenants made, if they are not to be regarded?"
"Wa-a-l, now, accordin' to my notion, a covenant in a lease is prettymuch like a water-course in a map; not a thing to be partic'lar at allabout; but as water-courses look well on a map, so covenants read wellin a lease. Landlords like to have 'em, and tenants a'n't particular."
"You can hardly be serious in either case, I should hope, Mr. Newcome,but are pleased to exercise your ingenuity on us for your own amusement.There is nothing so particular in the covenants of your lease as torequire any case of conscience to decide on its points."
"There's this in it, major, that you get the whull property back ag'in,if you choose to claim it."
"Claim it! the whole property has been mine, or my predecessors', eversince it was granted to us by the crown. _All_ your rights come fromyour _lease_; and when that terminates, your rights terminate."
"Not accordin' to my judgment, major; not accordin' to my judgment. Ibuilt the mills at my own cost, you'll remember."
"I certainly know, sir, that you built the mills at what you call yourown cost; that is, you availed yourself of a natural mill-seat, used ourtimber and other materials, and constructed the mills, such as they are,looking for your reward in their use for the term of a quarter of acentury, for a mere nominal rent--having saw-logs at command as youwanted them, and otherwise enjoying privileges under one of the mostliberal leases that was ever granted."
"Yes, sir, but that was in _the bargain_ I made with your grand'ther. Itwas _agreed_ between us, at the time I took the place, that I was to cutlogs at will, and of course use the materials on the ground forbuildin'. You see, major, your grand'ther wanted the mills builtdesperately; and so he gave them conditions accordin'ly. You'll findevery syllable on't in the lease."
"No doubt, Mr. Newcome; and you will also find a covenant in the samelease, by which your interest in the property is to cease in a fewdays."
"Wa-a-l, now, I don't understand leases in that way. Surely it was neverintended a man should erect mills, to lose all right in 'em at the endof five-and-twenty years."
"That will depend on the bargain made at the time. Some persons erectmills and houses that have no rights in them at all. They are paid fortheir work as they build."
"Yes, yes--carpenters and millwrights, you mean. But I'm speakin' of nosuch persons; I'm speakin' of honest, hard-workin', industrious folks,that give their labor and time to build up a settlement; and not of yourmechanics who work for hire. Of course, they're to be paid for what theydo, and there's an eend on't."
"I am not aware that all honest persons are hard-working, any more thanthat all hard-working persons are honest. I wish to be understood_that_, in the first place, Mr. Newcome, phrases will procure noconcession from me. I agree with you, however, perfectly, in saying thatwhen a man is paid for his work, there will be what you call 'an end ofit.' Now twenty-three days from this moment, you will have been paid forall you have done on my property according to your own agreement; and byyour own reasoning, there must be an end of your connection with thatproperty."
"The major doesn't mean to rob me of all my hard earnin's!"
"Mr. Newcome, _rob_ is a hard word, and one that I beg may not be againused between you and me. I have no intention to rob you, or to let yourob me. The pretence that you are not, and were not acquainted with theconditions of this lease, comes rather late in the day, after apossession of a quarter of a century. You know very well that mygrandfather would not sell, and that he would do no more than lease; ifit were your wish to purchase, why did you not go elsewhere, and getland in fee? There were, and still are, thousands of acres to be sold,all around you. I have lands to sell, myself, at Mooseridge, as theagent of my
father and Colonel Follock, within twenty miles of you, andthey tell me capital mill-seats in the bargain."
"Yes, major, but not so much to my notion as this--I kind o' wantedthis!"
"But, I kind o' want this, too; and, as it is mine, I think, in commonequity, I have the best claim to enjoy it."
"It's on equity I want to put this very matter, major--I know the law isag'in me--that is, some people say it is; but some think not, now we'vehad a revolution--but, let the law go as it may, there's such a thing aswhat I call _right_ between man and man."
"Certainly; and law is an invention to enforce it. It is right I shoulddo exactly what my grandfather agreed to do for me, five-and-twentyyears ago, in relation to these mills; and it is right you should dowhat you agreed to do, for yourself."
"I _have_ done so. I agreed to build the mills, in a sartain form andmode, and I done it. I'll defy mortal man to say otherwise. The saw-millwas smashing away at the logs within two months a'ter I got the lease,and we began to grind in four!"
"No doubt, sir, you were active and industrious--though, to be frankwith you, I will say that competent judges tell me neither mill is worthmuch now."
"That's on account of the lease"--cried Mr. Newcome, a little toohastily, possibly, for the credit of his discretion--"how did I knowwhen it would run out? Your gran'ther granted it for three lives, andtwenty-one years afterward, and I did all a man could to make it last aslong as I should myself; but here I am, in the prime of life, and indanger of losing my property!"
I knew all the facts of the case perfectly, and had intended to dealliberally with Mr. Newcome from the first. In his greediness for gain hehad placed his lives on three infants, although my grandfather hadadvised him to place at least one on himself; but, no--Mr. Newcome hadfancied the life of an infant better than that of a man; and in three orfour years after the signature of the lease, his twenty-one years hadbegun to run, and were now near expiring. Even under this certainlyunlooked-for state of things, the lease had been a very advantageous onefor the tenant; and, had one of his lives lasted a century, the landlordwould have looked in vain for any concession on that account; landlordsnever asking for, or expecting favors of that sort; indeed mostlandlords would be ashamed to receive them; nevertheless, I was disposedto consider the circumstances, to overlook the fact that the mills andall the other buildings on the property were indifferently built, and torelet, for an additional term of twenty-one years, woodlands, farms,buildings, and other privileges, for about one-third of the money thatMr. Newcome himself would have been apt to ask, had he the lettinginstead of myself. Unwilling to prolong a discussion with a man who, byhis very nature, was unequal to seeing more than one side of a subject,I cut the matter short by telling him my terms without further delay.
Notwithstanding all his acting and false feeling, the 'squire was sorejoiced to learn my moderation that he could not but openly express hisfeelings; a thing he would not have done did he not possess the moralcertainty I would not depart from my word. I felt it necessary, however,to explain myself.
"Before I give you this new lease, Mr. Newcome," I added, holding theinstrument signed in my hand, "I wish to be understood. It is notgranted under the notion that you have any right to ask it, beyond theallowance that is always made by a liberal landlord to a reasonably_good_ tenant; which is simply a preference over others on the sameterms. As for the early loss of your lives, it was your own fault. Hadthe infants you named, or had one of them, passed the state ofchildhood, it might have lived to be eighty, in which case mytimber-land would have been stripped without any return to its trueowner, but your children died, and the lease was brought withinreasonable limits. Now the only inducement I have for offering the termsI do, is the liberality that is usual with landlords, what is concededis conceded as no right, but as an act of liberality."
This was presenting to my tenant the most incomprehensible of allreasons for doing anything. A close and sordid calculator himself, hewas not accustomed to give any man credit for generosity; and, from thedoubting, distrustful manner in which he received the paper, I suspectedat the moment that he was afraid there was some project for taking himin. A rogue is always distrustful, and as often betrays his character tohonest men by that as by any other failing. I was not to regulate my ownconduct, however, by the weaknesses of Jason Newcome, and the lease wasgranted.
I could wish here to make one remark. There ought certainly to be thesame principle of good fellowship existing between the relations oflandlord and tenant that exist in the other relations of life, and whichcreates a moral tie between parties that have much connection in theirordinary interests, and that to a degree to produce preferences andvarious privileges of a similar character. This I am far from calling inquestion; and, on the whole, I think, of all that class of relations,the one in question is to be set down as among the most binding andsacred. Still, the mere moral rights of the tenant must depend on therigid maintenance of all the rights of the landlord; the legal and moralunited; and the man who calls in question either of the latter, surelyviolates every claim to have his own pretensions allowed, beyond thosewhich the strict letter of the law will yield to him. _The landlord whowill grant a new lease to the individual who is endeavoring to underminehis rights, by either direct or indirect means, commits the weakness ofarming an enemy with the knife by which he is himself to be assaulted,in addition to the error of granting power to a man who, under thecharacter of a spurious liberty, is endeavoring to unsettle the onlyconditions on which civilized society can exist._ If landlords willexhibit the weakness, they must blame themselves for the consequences.
I got rid of Mr. Newcome by the grant of the lease, his wholemanoeuvring having been attempted solely to lower the rent; for _he_was much too shrewd to believe in the truth of his own doctrines on thesubject of right and wrong. That same day my axe-men appeared at the'Nest, having passed the intermediate time in looking at various tractsof land that were in the market, and which they had not found soeligible, in the way of situation, quality, or terms, as those Ioffered. By this time, the surveyed lots of Mooseridge were ready, and Ioffered to sell them to these emigrants. The price was only a dollar anacre, with a credit of ten years; the interest to be paid annually. Onewould have thought that the lowness of the price would have induced mento prefer lands in fee to lands on lease; but these persons, to a man,found it more to their interests to take farms on three-lives leases,being rent-free for the first five years, and at nominal rents for theremainder of the term, than to pay seven dollars a year of interest, anda hundred dollars in money, at the expiration of the credit.[11] Thisfact, of itself, goes to show how closely these men calculated theirmeans, and the effect their decisions might have on their interests. Norwere their decisions always wrong. Those who can remember the start thecountry took shortly after the peace of '83, the prices that thesettlers on new lands obtained for their wheat, ashes, and pork; threedollars a bushel often for the first, three hundred dollars a ton forthe second, and eight or ten dollars a hundred for the last, will atonce understand that the occupant of new lands at that period obtainedenormous wages for a laborer by means of the rich unexhausted lands hewas thus permitted to occupy. No doubt he would have been in a bettersituation had he owned his farm in fee at the end of his lease; so wouldthe merchant who builds a ship and clears her cost by her first freight,have been a richer man had he cleared the cost of two ships instead ofone; but he has done well, notwithstanding; and it is not to beforgotten that the man who commences life with an axe and a littlehousehold furniture, is in the situation of a mere day-laborer. Theaddition to his means of the use of land is the very circumstance thatenables him to rise above his humble position, and to profit by thecultivation of the soil. At the close of the last century, and at thecommencement of the present, the country was so placed as to renderevery stroke of the axe directly profitable, the very labor that wasexpended in clearing away the trees meeting with a return so liberal bythe sale of the ashes manufactured, as to induce even speculat
ors toengage in the occupation. It may one day be a subject of curious inquiryto ascertain how so much was done as is known to have been done at thatperiod, toward converting the wilderness into a garden; and I will hererecord, for the benefit of posterity, a brief sketch of one of theprocesses of getting to be comfortable, if not rich, that was much usedin that day.
[Footnote 11: The fact here stated by Mr. Littlepage should never beforgotten; inasmuch as it colors the entire nature of the pretension nowset up as to the exactions of leases. No man in New York need ever have_leased_ a farm for the want of an opportunity of _purchasing_, therenever having been a time when land for farms in fee has not been openlyon sale within the bounds of the State; and land every way as eligibleas that leased. In few cases have two adjoining estates been leased; andwhere such has been the fact, the husbandman might always have found afarm in fee, at the cost of half a day's travelling. The benefits to thelandlord have usually been so remote on the estate leased, that by farthe greater proportion of the proprietors have preferred selling atonce, to waiting for the tardy operations of time.--EDITOR.]
It was a season's work for a skilful axe-man to chop, log, burn, clear,and sow ten acres of forest land. The ashes he manufactured. For theheavier portions of the work, such as the logging, he called on hisneighbors for aid, rendering similar assistance by way of payment. Oneyoke of oxen frequently sufficed for two or three farms, and"logging-bees" have given rise to a familiar expression among us, thatis known as legislative "log-rolling;" a process by which, as is wellknown, one set of members supports the project of another set, on theprinciple of reciprocity.
Now ten acres of land, cropped for the first time, might very well yielda hundred and fifty bushels of merchantable wheat, which would bringthree hundred dollars in the Albany market. They would also make a tonof pot-ashes, which would sell for at least two hundred dollars. This isgiving five hundred dollars for a single year's work. Allowing for allthe drawbacks of buildings, tools, chains, transportation, provisions,etc., and one-half of this money might very fairly be set down as clearprofit; very large returns to one who, before he got his farm, was inthe situation of a mere day-laborer, content to toil for eight or ninedollars the month.
That such was the history, in its outlines, of the rise of thousands ofthe yeomen who now dwell in New York, is undeniable; and it goes to showthat if the settler in a new country has to encounter toil andprivations, they are not always without their quick rewards. In theselater times, men go on the open prairies, and apply the plough to anancient sward; but I question if they would not rather encounter thevirgin forests of 1790, with the prices of that day, than run over thepresent park-like fields, in order to raise wheat for 37-1/2 cents perbushel, have no ashes at any price, and sell their pork at two dollarsthe hundred!