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The Adventures of Timothy Peacock, Esquire; or, Freemasonry
Practically Illustrated
CHAPTER III
Daniel P. Thompson
"'Tis a rough land of rock, and stone, and tree,
Where breathes no castled lord nor cabined slave;
Where thoughts, and hands, and tongues are free,
And friends will find a welcome—foes a grave."
It was a pleasant morning in the month of May, when our hero shouldered his
well-stored knapsack, and, with the blessings of his father and mother on his
head, and their meagre outfit in his pocket, went forth into the wide world to
seek his fortune wherever he might find it.
Such was the obscure and lowly beginning of the renowned hero of
Mugwump!—Such the inauspicious and rayless rising of that masonic star which was
destined soon to mount the mystic zenith, and irradiate the whole canopy of
America with its peerless effulgence! But not wishing to anticipate his
subsequent distinction, or waste words in bestowing that panegyric which a bare
recital of his deeds cannot but sufficiently proclaim, I shall endeavor to
follow my hero through the bright mazes of his eventful career, giving an
unvarnished narration of his exploits, and leaving them to speak their own
praise and receive from an unbiassed posterity, if not from this perverse and
unmasonic generation, the meed of unperishable honor.
Steering his course westward, Timothy arrived at the end of his first day's
walk at a little village within the borders of Massachusetts. Here he put up at
a respectable looking tavern for the night. After a good substantial supper had
somewhat settled the inquietudes of the inner man, he began to cast about him
for companionship; and hearing those who came in address the landlord by the
various titles of 'Squire, Colonel, &c., and concluding therefore that the
man must be the principal personage of the village, he determined to have some
conversation with him, and this for two reasons,—first, because he wished to
make enquiries respecting the road to the State of New York, to which it had
been settled he should proceed as a place well suited to give full scope to his
splendid talents, and, secondly, because he thought it doing the landlord
injustice to suffer him to remain any longer in ignorance of the great Genius
with whose presence his house was now honored. He therefore opened the
conversation in a manner which he deemed suitable to the occasion.—
"Landlord," said he, "comprehending you to be a man of superlative
exactitude, I take the present opportunity for making a few nocturnal
enquiries."
`Oh, yes; yes, Sir,' replied the landlord, with a bow at every repetition;
`yes, Sir, I thank you,—may ben't, however, I don't exactly understand your
tarms; but I'll answer your enquiries in the shake of a sheep's-tail.'
"I am now," rejoined the former, "meandering my longitude to the great State
of New-York, where I contemplate the lucid occupation of juvenile instruction,
or some other political aggrandizement, and I would more explicitly direct my
enquiries respecting the best road to that sequestered dominion."
`Oh, yes, yes Sir, I thank you,' said the other— speaking of political
matters—I have had some experience in that line, and about the road too; why,
let me see—it is just four year agone coming June, since I went representative
to the General Court in Boston.—They would make me go to the Legislature, you
see.—Well, my speech on the Road Bill of that session as to the best rout to
New-York; but may ben't you havn't read my speech.—Well, no matter.—But, my
friend, don't you miss it to go to New-York? Now I'll tell you jest what I would
do: I would go right to Old Varmount at once.—They are all desput ignerant folks
there.—They must want a man of your larnen shockingly I guess.—Now spose you
jest think on't a little.'
"Should you advise me then," observed Timothy, happy in perceiving his
talents were beginning to be appreciated by the landlord, "should you advise me
to concentrate to that dispensation?"
`Go there, do you mean?' replied the polished ex-representative— `why, to be
sure I should.—These poor out-of-the-world people must be dreadfully sunk. You
wouldn't find any body there that could hold a candle to you: and besides
teaching, which you are a person I conclude every way fitting for it, I
shouldn't wonder if you got to be governer in two year.'
Much did Timothy, on retiring to rest, revolve in mind the advice of the sage
landlord. He could not but admit that the argument for going to Vermont was a
very forcible one, and coming as it did from so candid a man, and one who had
been a representative to the legislature, it seemed entitled to great weight;—so
after mature deliberation, he concluded to follow the 'Squire's enlightened
suggestions—go to Vermont, become a chief teacher of the poor barbarians of that
wild country, till such time as they should make him their governor.
The next morning Timothy rose early, and under the fresh impulse of his late
resolution, eagerly resumed his journey.
Nothing worthy particular notice occurred to our hero during the three next
succeeding days of his pilgrimage for fame and fortune. Untroubled by any of
those doubts and fears of the future which so often prove troublesome attendants
to minds of a different mould, he pressed on in the happy consciousness that
merit like his must soon reap its adequate reward. Emoluments and civil
distinctions would await him as matters of course, but an object of a higher
character more deeply engrossed his mind, and formed the grateful theme of his
loftiest aspirations. This was the sublime mysteries of Masonry; and to the
attainment of its glorious laurels he looked forward with a sort of prophetic
rapture as a distinction which was to cap the climax of his renown and
greatness.
With such bright anticipations of the future beguiling many a lonely hour,
and shortening many a weary mile, he arrived at the eastern bank of the
beautiful Connecticut— that river of which the now almost forgotten Barlow sings
or says with as much truth as felicity of expression— "No watery gleams through
happier vallies shine, Nor drinks the sea a lovelier wave than thine."
Fearlessly passing this Rubicon, for such it was to one of his preconceived
notions of the country beyond, supposing, as he did, its eastern borders to be
the very Ultima Thule of civilization, Timothy found himself, as a
certain literary dandy, who is now receiving " Impressions" among the
naked Venuses of Italy, has been pleased to express it, "out of the world and
in Vermont."
Vermont! Ah, Vermont! calumniator of the heavenborn Handmaid! How the mind of
every true brother sickens at thy degenerate name!—How deeply deplores thy
fallen condition!—How regrets and pities thy blindness to that light which, but
for thy perverseness, might still have gloriously illuminated thy mountains, and
soon have shone the ascendant in all thy political gatherings, thy halls of
legislation and thy courts of justice—overpowering in each the feebler rays of
uninitiated wisdom, and filling them with the splendors of mystic knowledge!
What unholy frenzy could have seized thy irreverent sons thus to lay their
Gothlike hands on the sacred pillars of that consecrated fabric, in which we
behold accomplished the magnificent object for which the less favored projectors
of ancient Babel labored in vain,—the construction of a tower reaching from
earth to heaven, by which the faithful, according to the assurance of their wise
ones, "Hope with good conscience to heaven to climb, And give Peter the grip,
the pass-word and sign!" What high-handed presumption, thus to assail that
institution which, as its own historians, as learned as the Thebans and as
infallible as the Pope, have repeatedly informed us, commenced in Eden, (whether
before or after the gentleman with the blemished foot made his appearance
in the garden, they have not mentioned,) and which has since continued, from age
to age, advancing in greatness and glory, till it has at length arrived at the
astonishing excellence of nineteen degrees above perfection! What blind
infatuation and unappreciating stupidity, thus to pursue with obloquy and
proscription that heaven-gifted fraternity, who are, we are again informed, so
immeasurably exalted above the grovelling mass of the uninitiated, that,
"As
men from brutes, distinguished are, A Mason other men excels!"
No wonder this daughter of heaven is indignant at thy ungrateful rebellion to
her celestial rule! No wonder her Royal Arch sons of light mourn in sackcloth
and ashes over thy disgrace! No wonder her yet loyal and chivalrous Templars are
so anxious to see thy "lost character redeemed!"
But from this vain lament over a country once honored and blest—by that
glorious Light she has since so blindly strove to extinguish—over a country once
happy and unsuspected in her fealty to those who, like the sun-descended Incas,
are thus endowed with the peculiar right to govern the undistinguished
multitude—over a land thus favored, but now, alas! forever fallen, and become a
by-word and reproach among her sister states—let us return to those halcyon days
of her obedience in which transpired those brilliant adventures which it has
become our pleasing task to delineate.
After crossing the river, our hero entered a thriving village situated around
those picturesque falls where this magnificent stream, meeting a rocky barrier,
and, as if maddened at the unexpected interruption after so long a course of
tranquil meanderings, suddenly throws itself, with collected strength, headlong
down through the steep and yawning chasm beneath, with the delirious desperation
of some giant maniac hurling himself from a precipice.
After a brief stay at this place, which, to his surprise, wore the marks of
considerable civilization, and which he concluded therefore must be the strong
out-post of the frontier, and the largest town of the Green-Mountain settlement,
he pushed boldly into the interior. Taking a road leading north-westerly, with a
view of passing through the mountains into some of the western counties of the
state, which he had been told comprised the best part of Vermont, he travelled
on several hours with increasing wonder in finding the country cultivated like
other places he had been accustomed to see—the farm-houses comfortable, and not
made of logs; and the inhabitants much like other people in appearance. In
pondering on these, to him unaccountable circumstances, as he diligently pursued
his way through a variety of scenery which was continually arresting his
attention, he wholly forgot to acquaint himself with the relative distances of
the houses of public entertainment on the road. At length, however, the setting
sun, slowly sinking behind the long range of Green-Mountains, which now, with
broad empurpled sides, lay looming in the distance, reminded him of his
inadvertence, and warned him that he must speedily seek out a lodging for the
night. But now no inn, or, indeed, any other habitation was in sight; and to add
to his perplexity the road became more woody, and he was now evidently
approaching a wilder part of the country. Undismayed, however, he pressed onward
with a quickened pace, and after travelling some distance he came to a small
farm-house. Determined to make application for a night's lodging at this
cottage, as it was now nearly dark, he approached it and rapped for admittance.
The rap was instantly answered from within, and at the same time a host of
white-headed urchins crowded to the door, headed by the house-cur, yelping at
the very top of his cracked voice. Presently, however, the owner of this goodly
brood made his appearance, loudly vociferating, "Fraction! get out, get out, you
saucy scamp! you have no more manners than a sophomore in vacation.—Number One,
take a stick and baste the dog to his heart's content; and you, Number Two,
Three, and the rest of ye, to your seats in a moment!" After thus stilling the
commotion around him, the farmer cordially invited Timothy into the house, where
the latter was soon made welcome for the night to such fare as the house
afforded. As soon as the common-place remarks usual on such occasions were a
little over, our hero, whose curiosity was considerably excited by the specimen
of Green-Mountain manners which this family presented, began to make his
observations with more minuteness; and taking what he here saw, as many other
learned travellers in a strange country have done, for a fair sample of the rest
of the inhabitants, he could not but marvel much on the singularity of this
people. Every thing about the house exhibited a strange mingling of poverty, and
what he had been taught to believe could only be the results of some degree of
affluence. The family appeared to be in possession of the substantials of living
in abundance, and yet rough benches were about their only substitute for chairs:
Indeed, the usual conveniences of furniture were almost wholly wanting.— Again,
there were two or three kinds of newspapers in the room, one of which two of the
boys, each as ragged as a young Lazarus, were reading together by fire-light,
with one hand holding up the tattered nether garments, and the other grasping a
side of the sheet whose contents they seemed to devour with the eagerness of a
young candidate for Congress on the eve of an election, occasionally making
their sage comments, till one, coming to some partisan prediction or political
philippic with which the newspapers at that period were teeming, suddenly let go
the paper and exclaimed, "Hurra for Madison and the Democrats! Dad, we shall
have a war, and I'll go and fight the British!"—while, "so will I!" "and I too!"
responded several of the younger boys, starting up, and brandishing their sturdy
little fists. While these tiny politicians were thus settling the destinies of
the nation, an embryo Congress-member, the oldest boy, or Number One, (as his
father called him) a lad of about fifteen, lay quietly on his back, with his
head to the fire, studying a Greek Grammar, and furnishing himself with light by
once in a while throwing on a pine knot, a pile of which he had collected and
laid by his side for the purpose. These circumstances, particularly the latter,
filled our hero with surprise, and he asked the farmer how he `contrivified,' in
a place with no more `alliances for edifercation,' to bring his boys to such a
`length of perfecticability' as to be studying Greek? To this the man replied,
that they had a school in every neighborhood that furnished as many, and indeed
more advantages than common scholars would improve; and he did not suppose boys
in any country, whatever might be said of its advantages, could be very well
taught much faster than they could learn. As to his own boys, he did not
consider the smaller ones any great shakes at learning; but with regard to
Number One, it came so natural for him to learn, that he did not believe the boy
could help it. A college school-master, he said, teaching in their school the
year before, had put the child agoing in the dead lingos and lent him some
books;—since which, by digging along by himself nights, rainy days, and so on,
and reciting to the minister, he had got so far that he thought of going to
college another year, which he was welcome to do, if he could `hoe his own
row.'
Timothy then asked him the reason of his `designifying' his children by such
odd `appliances.' To this question, also, the farmer (who was one of those
compounds of oddity and shrewdness who have enough of the latter quality to be
able to give a good reason for the same) had his ready answer, which he gave by
saying, that he never gave names to any of his children, for he thought that his
method of numbering them as they came, and so calling them by their respective
numbers, altogether preferable to giving them the modern fashionable double or
treble names; because it furnished brief and handy names by which to call his
children, and possessed the additional advantage of giving every body to
understand their comparative ages, which names could never do; besides, there
could be no danger of exhausting the numeral appellatives, which the other
course, in this respect, was not without risk in the Green-Mountains; though as
to himself, he said he did not know that he ought to feel under any great
apprehensions of running out the stock of names, as he had as yet but seventeen
children, though to be sure he had not been married only about fifteen
years.
Our hero now retired to rest for the night, and, after a sound sleep, rose
the next morning to resume his journey, when to his great joy a waggoner came
along and kindly gave him a passage over the mountains, landing him at night at
an inn in the open country several miles to the west of them.
FOOTNOTES
[1] The expression of Hon. Ezra Meech, a Knight Templar Mason, in a letter
written by him to certain gentlemen in Windsor County, after his nomination by
the Jackson and National Republican parties, as a candidate for Governor, in
opposition to the Anti-Masons.
[2] Allusion is doubtless here made to the starting career of a distinguished
member of Congress from Vermont, now deceased, who is said to have commenced his
classical studies under the auspices, and in the manner here
described.—Editor.
[3] The following anecdote probably refers to some of the neighbors of the
above mentioned individual. A boy being asked his name, replied that he had
none. The reason being asked, he said his father was so poor he could not afford
him one.—Ed.
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