CHAPTER VII.
Social War.--Longbow, Turtle & Co.--Bird, Swipes, Beagle & Co.--Mrs. Bird.--Mrs. Beagle.--Mrs. Swipes--Turkey and Aristocracy.--Scandal.--Husking-bees, and "such like."--The Calathumpian Band.--The Horse-fiddle.--The Giant Trombone.--The Gyastacutas.--Tuning up.--Unparalleled Effort.--Puddleford still a representative Place.
I have taken the liberty, in the preceding chapters, to speak freely ofsome of the leading characters of Puddleford. I have alluded to Longbow,Turtle, and Bigelow, not because they were the only people of the village,or the best; but because they were the rudder of society, and steered italong in the same way that ships are guided over stormy waters. Now, therewere a great many more very excellent folks, who helped chink in and fillup around these more important personages, and make up an harmonious whole.Zeke Bird, the blacksmith, was one; Tom Beagle, the shoemaker, another; LemSwipes, the tailor, still another. These men were among the first settlersof Puddleford, and had done as much towards its up-building as any other.They had immigrated from a place in Ohio, and consequently knew somethingabout the world. All three families were cousins, or second cousins, to oneanother, and they acted in unison upon any public or social question.
They hated, with a supreme hatred, Longbow, Turtle & Co., because theywere "aristocrats." Mrs. Bird, who was a very impulsive, peak-nosed sort ofa woman, and who always wore a red flannel petticoat protruding beyond herdress, and her shoes slip-shod, used to often say, "that if there wasanything she did despise it was a stick-up. She didn't believe old Mrs.Longbow, or any of her darters, were any better than common folks; andshe'd see the whole pack on 'em pumpin' lightning at two cents a clap,before she'd skrouch to 'em!"
Mrs. Beagle was quite a different body. She was not so full of fire andfury as Mrs. Bird. She didn't allow her feelings to get the advantage ofher malice. She moved more underground; yet she was always busy peckingaway at that "up-street clique," as she called them.
Mrs. Beagle was a neat, tidy body, and wore an air of great sincerity abouther face. She used to say that "nothing grieved her _so much_ as to becompelled to believe anything bad 'bout her neighbors," and that "she neverspoke of nothing till it got all over, and there warn't no use of holdingin any longer." She made it her business to watch the morals and religionof all the Longbows, and Turtleses, and Bateses, and report accordingly.She said "she didn't know but it was all right for a member of theMethodist church, like Miss Lavinia Turtle, to wear three bows to herbonnet on Sunday--she didn't _know_--she warn't going to say--'haps shehadn't orter say--but the way _she_ looked at religion, 'twas as wicked asCain--for herself, she made no pretensions, but when folks did, she wantedto see 'em lived up to." She said, "she meant to have Mrs. Bates turned outof the church for riding out on Sunday, for she'd seen her several timeswith her own eyes, six miles from town; but she wouldn't speak of it, ifit warn't such a scandal on her profession;" besides, she had it from goodauthority, that "she water'd her milk 'fore she sold it, but she wouldn'tsay who told her, 'cause she promised not to."
Mrs. Swipes was a fat, blouzy-faced, coarse, ignorant woman, and revengedherself by firing bombshells into the aristocratic camp every opportunityshe could get, and cared but little what she said, or whom she hit, if shecould only keep the enemy stirred up. "She'd heard that Mrs. Longbow'sfather got into jail once down in Pennsylvania, and that the hull batch on'em were as poor as Job's turkey; and that the old Squire himself had apretty tight nip on't; but his friends bailed him out, and he lean'd forthe west. As for Mrs. Bates, she _knew_ she'd lie, right flat out--she'dcatch'd her dozens of times; and, of course, Lavinia couldn't be anybetter--for as the old cock crows, the young one learns. She wouldn't swapcharacters with any on 'em, not she."
The husbands of these ladies thought just about as much of Longbow & Co. astheir wives did. They were an indolent trio, and labored only enough tokeep soul and body together. The rest of their time was devoted to the"Eagle tavern," street-lounging, and commentaries upon the dailydevelopments of the aristocracy. Each one of the families of these cliqueswere social centres, around which others revolved, and drew all their lightand heat. And then there were still other families, away down below theBirds and Beagles in the scale of respectability, who were ever warringupon _them_, proving
"That fleas have other fleas to bite 'em, And so on, _ad infinitum_."
I recollect attending a party, one evening during the winter, at Bird's,when the aristocracy took a regular broadside fire. It seemed that Longbow,some days previous, had a turkey on his table for dinner, which roused upall the wrath of his adversaries. Mrs. Bird said, "she really s'posed thathe thought poor people couldn't have such things; but she'd let him knowshe'd lived on' turkeys before he ever know'd there was such a thing--andshe had good sass with 'em too. Mrs. Longbow," she said, "cooked it fornothing in the world but to make her knuckle to her; but she'd never givein as long as _she_ drew the breath of life--that she wouldn't!"
Mrs. Sonora Brown said, "that warn't all--Longbow had bo't a bran newcarpet for down-stairs, and used sales-molasses for common, eenamost everyday--and the clark in Clewes' grocery had got a goin' arter Lavinny everynight--and Mrs. Longbow had got mift at Mrs. Weazel, because Weazel said hewouldn't stand any more of Longbow's decisions--and they'd got a burningsperm ile in the house instead-er taller--and they were a puttin' on thedrefulest sight of airs, old woman and all, that ever was seen."
Mrs. Beagle said "it was all true about the ile--she see'd it burn throughthe winder--and she'd seen a great many more things through the winder--butshe warn't a going to tell what they were!"
Mrs. Sonora Brown threw up her hands in horror, and said, "she had alwayssuspected it, but darsn't say so."
"O, shaw!" exclaimed Mrs. Beagle; "that's nothing to Bates' wife; she walksout arm-in-arm in broad daylight with her cousin that's been sneaking roundthere on a visit." She said, "Puddleford used to be a 'spectable village,but there warn't any morals any more since these high-flyers had got intoit--and she guess'd Bates' wife was flaring out, and trading at the storesas much as Longbow."
Mr. Bird very grumly said, "he'd better hold in, for if he didn't _hist_ alittle note he had again' him 'fore long, he'd sue him to judgment, and_level_ an execution on everything he had, and clean him out."
A yellow-looking woman, who sat in the corner, and who had just beforeremarked that "she'd had the shakin' ager onto her all winter," wanted toknow if "the new _mar_chant was going to jine the upper crust, or be one ofour folks."
It was not long, however, before all were rattling away together, so thatnothing but the emphatic words could be distinguished. Artillery,fire-arms, and all, were blazing. Such a scorching as the aristocracyreceived had hardly ever been equalled.
Longbow & Co. did not care for their enemies. They rather felt proud of thenotice bestowed upon them. Ike Turtle used to say, "'twas fun to stand andtake the fire of fools;" but Squire Longbow's dignity was so profound, thathe never permitted himself to know that there was really any war going on.
Society in the country, among the farmers, was quite another thing.Puddleford village _had_ a country, and village pride looked down upon it,just as it does in larger places. The amusements and frolics of the countrywere more simple and hearty. In the winter, husking-bees, apple-parings,and house-warmings were held every week at some of the farm-houses. Greatpiles of corn were stacked up in barn, the girls and boys invited in formiles around, long poles run through strung with lanterns, and the huskingrushed through, 'mid songs and jokes. Then all hands adjourned to thehouse, and drank "hot stuff," ate nuts, and played games, and stormedaround, until they started the very shingles on the roof; while the greatfireplace, piled up with logs into the very throat of the chimney, shookits shadows around the room in defiance of the winds that roared without.
Now and then the country quality held a regular blow-out at Bulliphant'stavern. On these occasions, dancing commenced at two in the afternoon, andended at daylight next morning. Dry good
s and perfumery suffered aboutthose days. The girls and boys dressed their hair with oil of cinnamon andwintergreen, and the Eagle smelt like an essence shop. It fairlyoverpowered the stench of Bulliphant's whiskey-bottles. Every one riggedout to within an inch of their lives. The girls wore ruffles on theirpantalets frizzled down over their shoes, nearly concealing the whole foot;and all kinds and colors of ribbons streamed from their heads and waists.The "boys" mounted shirt-collars without regard to expense, and flauntedout their brass breast-pins, two or more to each, with several feet ofwatch-chain jingling in front. The landlord of the Eagle termed thesegatherings his "winter harvest."
Another amusement, frequent in the country, was the turnout of the"Calathumpian Band." The band, I am aware, did not originate withPuddleford. Newly-married couples were serenaded before it ever had anexistence there. But _this_ band was one of the very finest specimens. Noone knew exactly who its members were; but they were always on hand, soonafter a wedding, in full uniform, with all their instruments in order. Itwas organized when the country was very new, and was, at the period I referto, in the highest state of prosperity.
One of its instruments was called the "horse-fiddle;" another the "gianttrombone;" another the "_gyastacutas_." The "horse-fiddle" was two enormousbows, made of hoops, heavily stringed and rosined, with a beef-bladder,fully inflated, pushed between the string and the bow. The "great trombone"was a dry goods box, turned bottom-side up, and was played upon with ascantling eight or ten feet long. The edge of the box and the scantlingwere rosined, and it was worked by two men sawing up and down. The"gyastacutas" was a nail keg, with a raw hide strained over it, like adrum-head, and inside of the keg, attached to the centre of this drum-head,a string hung, with which this instrument was worked by pulling in thestring and "let fly."
Besides all these, the band were supplied with dinner horns, conch-shells,sleigh-bells, and sometimes guns and pistols.
It assembled, usually about eleven o'clock at night, around the quarters ofthe newly-married couple, and within a day or two after marriage. Itsmembers were dressed up like an army of scare-crows. Some wore their shirtsoutside, some their coats and vests buttoned behind, and some were attiredin female dress. Its leader marched and countermarched this strange medley,and announced and conducted all the music. The band never moved withoutorders--it was thoroughly disciplined.
The instruments were first put in tune. The trombone gave out a low andheavy growl--the "gyastacutas," a bung! the horse-fiddle sullenlyreplied--a chink-chink from a few pairs of bells, and a toot-e-toot fromthe horns and shells, showed the blast was near at hand.
And such a blast! The infernal regions could not equal it. It roared andechoed for miles around. It fairly tore out the inside of one's head. Thecows bellowed and the dogs barked, honestly believing that the dissolutionof all things was at hand. The whole surrounding population roused up, forno person pretended to sleep when the Great Calathumpian Band wasassembled.
The reader must not suppose that this band was a mere congregation of boys.Not by any means; it was one of the institutions of the country--one of thepublic amusements of the day, and was patronized by young and old. Men hadlived and died members of the Calathumpian Band, and are remembered inPuddleford for this, if nothing else.
It is said that the songs and the amusements of a people determine theircharacter. If this be true, the reader can judge something of the countrypopulation about Puddleford from the little sketch I have given of them.The amusements of the villagers themselves were quite miscellaneous. The"aristocracy," as Bird & Co. termed them, gathered every night at theEagle, where they played cards, checkers, backgammon, made bets, discussedthe affairs of the nation and the private affairs of their neighbors, dranka little whiskey, and went home at eleven or twelve o'clock deeplyimpressed with their own importance. Bulliphant's bar-room was theircentre of gravity, and it was a matter of deep concern, if any member ofthe club was not found in his accustomed place. Longbow, Turtle, and Bateshad actually unseated several pairs of pantaloons on the landlord's chairs,which proved clearly enough that _they_ were faithful members.
Important business was transacted by this club. It made all the justices ofthe peace, constables, school inspectors, &c., &c., and was a controllingclique, in all political matters, within the township.
The reader discerns that Puddleford, in most respects, was like otherplaces. It had its divisions in society, its importance, its pomp and show,and relatively speaking, its aristocracy. It played through the same farcein a small way that larger places do on a more extended plan. Longbow feltjust as omnipotent, walking up and down the streets of Puddleford, as thetallest grandee treading a city pavement. The scale of greatness was not aslong in his village, but he stood as high on it as any other man in theworld on his--and so long as he headed his own scale, it mattered butlittle to him where the "rest of mankind" were.
It must have been a very remarkable character who once said, "human natureis always the same"--that the only difference in human pride and folly isone of degree. And I really hope there are none of my readers who feeldisposed to look down upon Puddleford with contempt, because I havepresented a few personages who have innocently caricatured what othersdaily practise, who have been polished in the very laboratory of fashion.Puddleford ought not, for that reason, to be condemned.
It seems to me that it may, on the contrary, be a lesson to such, _because_it makes a burlesque of itself in chasing folly. Puddleford is a greatlooking-glass, which reflects the faces of almost every person who looksinto it, and proves, what that remarkable character said, "that humannature is always the same."