text:
Page:A dictionary of the Sunda language of Java.djvu/393

372 Tot with the prefix Pa or Pě. Indeed the word is sometimes heard pronounced Pětut. Pěuchang, a diminutive deer about 6 or 8 inches high, with prominent bright goggle eyes. The animal is only 8 or 10 inches long. The body is of a darkish brown, and the breast bears some peculiar black and white stripes. The pěuchang never has any horns, and is very active. Called in Malay Kanchil. Tragulus kanchil. Pěu-ěung, the toddy drawn from the Kawung palm, and much drunk by the Badui people in South Bantam. See Wayu. Pěuhěur, having an astringent and sourish taste; harsh to the taste, nearly the same as Kěsěd. Ki-pěuhěur, name of a tree, see voce. Pěuhpěur, to lop the branches off trees which have been felled, in order that they may dry quickly, and then lie close together, so as to burn well. This done especially in the humahs. Pěujit, the guts, the entrails. Pěuuchit, to cut the throat, to kill an animal for food. To slaughter. Pěunděut, and Pěunděutan, to shut, to close. Pěunděutan lawang na, shut the door. Pěungkěur, firm, not soft, hard. Said of the consistence of boiled rice which is not watery. Consistent. Pěupěuh, to strike, to knock, to hit. Pěupěus, broken, smashed as an egg, a plate, a cup or other light material. Burst; to come to a termination, to have an issue. Endog na pěupěus, the egg is broken. Pinggang na pěupěus, the cup was broken. Bisul na pěupěus, the bril has burst. Said of an unpleasant event which has come to a crisis, which has blown ever. Pěrkara na pěupěus, the suit or action has come to a termination. Pěupěuskěn, to smash, to break in atoms, to burst open. Pěupěutěuyan, the round muscle of the upper arm, — as if it resembled the Pěutěui fruit. Pěupěuting, as Sa pěupěuting, the whole night through. The dualization of the first syllable of the word Pěuting, night; — implies continuity. Pěurah, the spittle or saliva of snakes; at least such is the meaning given to certain frothy secretions found sometimes on plants in the jungle, and which is very malignant if it gets into any wound or sore. Pěurěuh, water or medicament dropped into the eye. Some particular trees are known for their good qualities, and when fresh cut, their juice is let drop into the eye; — this is Pěurěuh. Pěurěuhan, to drop water into the eye; — see Pěurěuh. Pěurěum, eyes shut; eyelids closed; sometimes blind, but then the lids must be closed, otherwise the blindness in called Lolong, which see. Pěurěup, the clenched fist. Pěurěus, sore, smarting when touched. Chafed, as any part of the body. Suku na pěurěus, his foot is sore. Pěurěus ka na awak, having a sore feel to the body. Pěurěut, to squeeze out water or juice. To wring out a wet cloth.


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Culley, George

license: Creative Commons - Attribution Share-Alike - https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/


text:
Page:A dictionary of the Sunda language of Java.djvu/433

412 also the case in Singhalese, as well as in the Kawi and Pali of Java, which had their origin from the continent of India. We can hardly suppose that the rude people, whom the Hindus found in the Archipelago, had no idea of numbers at all, and that they readily adopted Hindu words to supply their deficiency, for these same people have the rest of their numerals complete with pure Polynesian words, and even the savages of New Holland can count up to two and three, but no further. One might almost suppose that Siji or Sa hiji and Dua were brought to the islands by the primeval settlers, who came from the continent, long before the trading and religious Hindus visited this part of the world, either for the sake of its rich natural products, or to seek a refuge from persecution at home. The word for three, which in the Lampungs is Talu, in Sunda, Batta and Bima Tolu, in Saparua Oru, and in Tahiti Atoru, is merely a compound of Ta or To, not, and Rua, parity or appearance, which is a contraction of the Sanscrit Rupa, C. 598, or Ruwa, C. 597, an image, form, figure, appearance. An instance in which a Sanscrit word has been combined with a pure Polynesian particle. Rupa-rua have given Dua, two in most of the languages of the Western parts of the Archipelago, and exists also in Latin and Greek etc. So extensive is the range of this small word.

Sa-apan, a sloping stage of split bambu erected in the river, with the down river end sticking well up, free of the water which passes between the materials. Upon this stage the fish are thrown by the strength of the current during floods, and where they are then secured.

Sa-at, dry, run dry, dried up. Walungan chai gěus sa-at, the bed of the river is dry.

Sa-atan, to run dry. To drain off the water.

Saba, to go to, to visit, to frequent. Tilok di saba, I never go near him (or it).

Saba, nearest male relative, on whom devolves the obligation of sanctioning the marriage of a woman.

Saba, occurs in the composition of proper names. As Wira Saba, the present Mojokěrto in the residency of Sourabaya, and the seat of the ancient capital Majapahit. Wira, C. 667, a hero, a warrior. Saba, C. 707, an assembly, a company; and thus an assembly of heroes.

Saban, the eighth month of the Mahometan year, called also Bulan Arawah, or Bulan Roa.

Sabandar, Persian, the shabandar, the collector of customs. Kantor Sabandar, the Custom house.

Sabar, Arabic, patient; patience, forbearance. Kudu sabar, you must have patience.

Sabaru, ten Dutch doits, also called Sa wang baru, a new wang.

Sabda, Sanscrit, command, order, mandate, decree. The word of God. To pronounce with solemnity.

Saběněrna, correctly, properly speaking. In truth, truly, justly.

Sabět, to strike with a whip or switch, to apply the whip; to flog an animal. Kěbo kudu di sabět, you must apply the whip to the buffaloe; you must flog the buffaloe.


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cullimore, Isaac


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cullum, Dudley


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cullum, John


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cullum, Thomas (1587?-1664)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Culmer, Richard


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hardwick, Philip


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Culpeper, Nicholas


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Culpeper, Thomas


text:
Four O'Clock

About two in the morning I knew it was coming. The great black silences of night's depth told me, and a monstrous cricket, chirping with a persistence too hideous to be unmeaning, made it certain. It is to be at four o'clock — at four in the dusk before dawn, just as he said it would be. I had not fully believed it previously, because the prophecies of vindictive madmen are seldom to be taken with seriousness. Besides, I was not justly to be blamed for what had befallen him at four o'clock on that other morning; that terrible morning whose memory will never leave me. And when, at length, he had died and was buried in the ancient cemetery just across the road from my east windows, I was certain that his curse could not harm me. Had I not seen his lifeless clay securely pinned down by huge shovelfuls of mould? Might I not feel assured that his crumbling bones would be powerless to bring me the doom at a day and an hour so precisely stated? Such, indeed, had been my thoughts until this shocking night itself; this night of incredible chaos, of shattered certainties, and of nameless portents.

I had retired early, hoping fatuously to snatch a few hours of sleep despite the prophecy which haunted me. Now that the time was so close at hand, I found it harder and harder to dismiss the vague fears which had always lain beneath my conscious thoughts. As the cooling sheets soothed my fevered body, I could find nothing to soothe my still more fevered mind; but lay tossing and uneasily awake, trying first one position and then another in a desperate effort to banish with slumber that one damnably insistent notion — that it is to occur at four o'clock.

Was this frightful unrest due to my surroundings; to the fateful locality in which I was sojourning after so many years? Why, I now asked myself bitterly, had I permitted circumstance to place me on this night of all nights, in that well-remembered house and that well-remembered room whose east windows overlook the lonely road and the ancient country cemetery beyond? In my mind’s eye every detail of that unpretentious necropolis rose before me - its white fence, its ghost-like granite shafts, and the hovering auras of those on whom the worms fed. Finally the force of the conception led my vision to depths more remote and more forbidden, and I saw under the neglected grass the silent shapes of the things from which the auras came - the calm sleepers, the rotting things, the things which had twisted frantically in their coffins before sleep came, and the peaceful bones in every stage of disintegration from the complete and coherent skeleton to the huddled handful of dust. Most of all I envied the dust. Then new terror came as my fancy encountered his grave. Into that sepulcher I dared not let my thought stray, and I should have screamed had not something forestalled the malign power that pulled my mental sight. That something was a sudden gust of wind, sprung from nowhere amidst the calm night, which unfastened the shutter of the nearest window, throwing it back with a shivery slam and uncovering to my actual waking glance the antique cemetery itself, brooding spectrally beneath an early morning moon.

I speak of this gust as something merciful, yet know now that it was only transiently and mockingly so. For no sooner had my eyes compassed the moonlight scene than I became aware of a fresh omen, this time too unmistakable to be classed as an empty phantasm, which arose from among the gleaming tombs across the road. Having glanced with instinctive apprehension toward the spot where he lay mouldering — a spot cut off from my gaze by the window-frame — I perceived with trepidation the approach of an indescribable something which flowed menacingly from that very direction ; a vague, vaporous, formless mass of greyish- white substance or spirit, dull and tenuous as yet, but every moment increasing in awesome and cataclysmic potentiality. Try as I might to dismiss it as a natural meteorological phenomenon, its fearsomely portentous and deliberate character grew upon me amidst new thrills of horror and apprehension; so that I was scarcely unprepared for the definitely purposeful and malevolent culmination which soon occurred. That culmination, bringing with it a hideous symbolic foreshadowing of the end, was equally simple and threatening. The vapor each moment thickened and piled up, assuming at last a half tangible aspect; while the surface toward me gradually became circular in outline, and markedly concave; as it slowly ceased its advance and stood spectrally at the end of the road. And as it stood there, faintly quivering in the damp night air under that unwholesome moon, I saw that its aspect was that of the pallid and gigantic dial of a distorted clock.

Hideous events now followed in demoniac succession. There took shape in the lower right-hand part of the vaporous dial a black and formidable creature, shapeless and only half seen, yet having four prominent claws which reached out greedily at me - claws redolent of noxious fatality in their very contour and location; since they formed too plainly the dreaded outlines, and filled too unmistakably the exact position, of the numeral IV on the quivering dial of doom. Presently the monstrosity stepped or wriggled out of the concave surface of the dial, and began to approach me by some unexplained kind of locomotion. The four talons, long, thin, and straight, were now seen to be tipped by disgusting, thread-like tentacles, each with a vile intelligence of its own, which groped about incessantly, slowly at first, but gradually increasing in velocity until I was nearly driven mad by the sheer dizziness of their motion. And as a crowning horror I began to hear all the subtle and cryptical noises that pierced the intensified night silence; a thousand-fold magnified, and in one voice reminding me of the abhorred hour of four. In vain I tried to pull up the coverlet to shut them out; in vain I tried to drown them with my screams. I was mute and paralyzed, yet agonizingly aware of every unnatural sight and sound in that devastating, moon-cursed stillness. Once I managed to get my head beneath the covers — once when the cricket's shrieking of that hideous phrase, four-o’clock, seemed about to shatter my brain — but that only aggravated the terror, making the roars of that detestable creature strike me like the blows of a titanic sledgehammer.

And now, as I withdrew my tortured head from its fruitless protection, I found augmented diabolism to harass my eyes. Upon the newly painted wall of my apartment, as if called forth by the tentacled monster from the tomb, there danced mockingly before me a myriad company of beings, black, grey, and white, such as only the fancy of the god-stricken might visualize. Some were of infinitesimal smallness; others covered vast areas. In minor details each had a grotesque and horrible individuality, in general outlines they all conformed to the same nightmare pattern despite their vastly varied size. Again I tried to shut out the abnormalities of the night, but vainly as before. The dancing things on the wall waxed and waned in magnitude, approaching and receding as they trod their morbid and menacing measure. And the aspect of each was that of some demon clock-face with one sinister hour always figured thereon - the dreaded, the doom-delivering hour of four.

Baffled in every attempt to shake off the circling and relentless delirium, I glanced once more toward the unshuttered window and beheld again the monster which had come from the grave. Horrible it had been before; indescribable it had now become. The creature, formerly of indeterminate substance, was now formed of red and malignant fire; and waved repulsively its four tentacled claws - unspeakable tongues of living flame. It stared and stared at me out of the blackness; sneeringly, mockingly; now advancing, now retiring. Then, in the tenebrous silence, those four writhing talons of fire beckoned invitingly to their demoniacally dancing counterparts on the walls, and seemed to beat time rhythmically to the shocking saraband till the world was one ghoulishly gyrating vortex of leaping, prancing, gliding, leering, taunting, threatening four o’clocks.

Somewhere, beginning afar off and advancing slowly over the sphinx like sea and the febrile marshes, I heard the early morning wind come soughing; faintly at first, then louder and louder until its unceasing burden flowed as a deluge of whirring, buzzing cacophony bringing always the hideous threat, ‘four o’clock, four o’clock, FOUR O’CLOCK.’ monotonously it grew from a whimper to a deafening roar, as of a giant cataract, but finally reached a climax and began to subside. As it receded into the distance it left upon my sensitive ears such a vibration as is left by the passing of a swift and ponderous railway train; this, and a stark dread whose intensity gave it something of the tranquility of resignation.

The end is near. All sound and vision have become one vast chaotic maelstrom of lethal, clamorous menace, wherein are fused all the ghastly and unhallowed four o’clocks which have existed since immemorial time began, and all which will exist in eternities to come. The flaming monster is advancing closely now, its charnel tentacles brushing my face and its talons curving hungrily as they grope toward my throat. At last I can see its face through the churning and phosphorescent vapors of the graveyard air, and with devastating pangs I realize that it is in essence an awful, colossal, gargoyle-like caricature of his face — the face of him from whose uneasy grave it has issued. Now I know that my doom is indeed sealed; that the wild threats of the madman were in truth the demon maledictions of a potent fiend, and that my innocence will prove no protection against the malign volition which craves a causeless vengeance. He is determined to pay me with interest for what he suffered at that spectral hour; determined to drag me out of the world into realms which only the mad and the devil-ridden know.

And as amidst the seething of hell’s flames and the tumult of the damned those fiery claws point murderously at my throat, I hear upon the mantel the faint whirring sound of a timepiece; the whirring which tells me that it is about to strike the hour whose name now flows incessantly from the death-like and cavernous throat of the rattling, jeering, croaking grave-monster before me — the accursed, the infernal hour of four o’clock.

title: Four O'Clock


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Culverwel, Nathanael


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Culy, David


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cumberland, Richard (1631-1718)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cumberland, Richard (1732-1811)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hardwick, Thomas


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cumberland, Richard Francis G.


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cumine Ailbhe


text:
The Civil Service and the Patronage/Chapter 05

election of Jackson threw both his friends and his foes into a fever of expectancy. There was enough of the Delphic element in his utterances to give color to every story as to his intentions; and rumor followed hot upon rumor through the streets of Washington, out into the country presses, and back again in new fantastic guise. The office-holding class and their friends put on a bold face. Webster wrote in January, 1829, “Great efforts are making to put him up to a general sweep, as to all offices; springing from great doubt whether he is disposed to go it.” The inaugural did not cast Webster down; he wrote of it March 4, 1829, “What it says about reform in office may be either a prelude to a general change in office, or a mere sop to soothe the hunger, without satisfying it, of the thousand expectants for office who throng the city, and clamor all over the country. I expect some changes, but not a great many at present.”

This blindness of the administrative class, whose views Webster voiced, is not without excuse. Impregnated with tradition, they felt themselves indispensable, and could not believe that the new president would attempt to run the government without them: it very often happens that a revolution surprises no one so much as its victims. Their sense of security was doubtless fostered by those letters of Jackson to Monroe which have been already cited; though if they could have interpreted these in

the light of an intimate knowledge of Jackson's character, they would have realized that his lenity toward Federalists arose, not from a disregard of party lines, but from a conviction that the old alignment of parties should be replaced by a new one depending on personal allegiance to himself; that while he could not proscribe a man for being a Federalist or a Republican, he would do so for a failure to support the candidacy of Andrew Jackson. While this air of confidence was sufficiently widespread to deceive most historians who have treated of the period into a belief that the cataclysm of 1829 was wholly unexpected, assurance was not universal even among Jackson's opponents; and doubtless many hearts beat fearsomely when, on the Sunday before inauguration, Robert Little preached from the text, “When Christ drew near the city he wept over it.”

The supporters of Jackson were boastfully confident that he would interpret reform as they desired. The Richmond Enquirer, the most powerful newspaper of the South, prophesied January 1, 1829, “A salutary reform will be attempted under the coming Republican administration. . .; in perfecting it friends will be preferred to opponents — coöperatives to assailants.” On the same day it said: “Some have been pleased to speak of reform in this case as synonymous with proscription. This is a designed perversion of the word. The National Journal is loquacious as a parrot in its denunciations of the anticipated ‘proscription.’ If that pensioned press can torture a salutary change in the administration of the general government, more or less applicable to all departments, and to official agents generally, into a proscription for opinion's sake, its powers are considerably greater than we or the public have hitherto given it credit for. As well may the people be charged with proscription for having removed an unfaithful executive and elected another. They began the work, they conferred the power to effect it.” The official organ of the new party at Washington was the Daily Telegraph, edited by General Duff

Green. Certainly no one who read its pages could plead ignorance as to the intentions of the Jackson managers. As early as November 2, 1828, it announced, “We know not what line of policy General Jackson will adopt; we take it for granted, however, that he will reward his friends and punish his enemies.”

These and numerous other editorials of similar import expressed not only a popular expectation, but also a popular demand. The editors and politicians did not think that Jackson would falter; but if he should, they were prepared to teach him a lesson. The proscription was delayed at first, in order to avoid friction with the Senate. This check caused the Telegraph to “hint it for the benefit of those of our party who are styled leading men, that every attempt to sustain in office, by their influence, those who should be removed, whether the feeling proceed from mistaken sympathy or from a wish to propitiate, it must prove alike injudicious, and it will necessarily have a tendency to lessen the regard of the Republican party of the nation, and ultimately overthrow ties which bind the great majority to their political interest.” The Telegraph was right; the politicians demanded the spoils, and they had the support of the people. Jesse Hoyt wrote to Van Buren at this time, “I have said from the commencement of the contest that I would not support any administration who would support men in power that had contributed to overthrow the democratic party in this State. I have preached this doctrine too long, and it has taken too [blank] a footing here, to be easily got rid of. This is not only the doctrine in theory, but we require it to be reduced to practice.” The time had come when the spoils system was to be made national, and Jackson must assume the task or cease to be the leader of the people.

There does not seem to be room for doubt that the president was ready to gratify the wishes of his supporters, and yet considerable interest attaches to the steps by which the new policy was adopted. Something had been done toward committing

the president even before his arrival at Washington. The proscription was by some dated from 1827, when the printing of the Senate was taken from the National Intelligencer. The majority which enabled the Jackson managers to take this action also allowed them to postpone the confirmation of nominations sent in by President Adams in the last months of his term, and thus to prevent a recurrence of “midnight appointments.” The committee to which certain judicial nominations were referred reported: “Because there are several propositions for a change of the judicial system now depending, and because the administration of the government is about to change hands, it is inexpedient to advise and consent to the nominations now.”

Those politicians therefore, who wished the administration to “go the whole hog,” as Webster said, had certain accomplished facts to which they could point; but they had also strong opposition to overcome. Major Lewis warned the general that if he adopted the principle of rotation and fully carried it out, the days of the republic would be numbered. The foremost advocate of moderation, however, was John McLean, the postmaster-general under Monroe and Adams. He fully believed in making appointments for political reasons, and apparently was not vigorously opposed to removals in general; but he was unwilling personally to conduct a general slaughter of the postmasters, as he had appointed very many of them himself and was very popular among them. This situation caused much difficulty to the cabinet-makers. At first it was announced that he would be continued in his old position. Later an exchange was arranged with Major Eaton, who had been selected for the war department; but this proved unsatisfactory; and finally McLean asked for, and obtained, the nomination for associate justice of the Supreme Court; Barry, who was to have had that position, consenting to take the post-office.

This change astonished the Senate, and was at once perceived to be an omen of evil. The opinion got abroad that the change was made because McLean, though willing to remove officers for officious partisanship in the last election, refused to discriminate in so doing between the followers of Jackson and those of Adams. The National Journal, March 7, 1829, said, “The President is to lose the valuable services of the able and independent officer, who, in the discharge of his important duties, has given universal satisfaction, for the purpose of increasing the power and patronage of the President.”

If Jackson had really hesitated as to the advisability of adopting a proscriptive policy, the demonstration at Washington on the occasion of his inauguration must have been a convincing argument in favor of it. In the first administrations the personal solicitation of office-seekers was discouraged. When Jefferson took his seat, the newness of the Capitol and conditions of transportation forbade the assembling of a large crowd. Of the second Adams's inauguration, Mrs. Seaton wrote, “The city is thronged with strangers, and Yankees swarm like the locusts of Egypt in our houses, our beds, and our kneading-troughs.”

This visitation, however, was utterly forgotten in the horror and vexation with which old residents beheld the Jacksonian invasion, the first appearance of a species of four-year locusts that has never since failed to devastate our capital city. The difference was not in numbers of candidates alone, though that was marked, but still more decidedly in character. The trimly dressed gentlemen of the old regime, with their high stocks and good breeding, were jostled by hack politicians from New York and country editors and farmers from the West. “After the ceremony was over,” wrote Story, “the President went to the palace to receive company, and there he was visited by immense crowds of all sorts of people, from the highest and most polished down to the most vulgar and gross in the nation. I never saw such a mixture. The reign of King Mob seemed

What happened at the executive mansion was so dramatic that it has been described at length by all the writers on the period. The wild stampede to the White House; the crowding round and crushing of the president, indicative of a new familiarity between the people and the government, to the immediate detriment of both; the mad scramble for the good things, — the cakes and ices and orange punch served out in lavish style, but wasted through careless distribution: all these scenes are not picturesque only, but are also emblematic.

Webster wrote to his sister on that day: “A monstrous crowd of people is in the city. I never saw any thing like it before. Persons have come five hundred miles to see General Jackson, and they really seem to think that the country is rescued from some dreadful danger.” It was evident, however, that they did not come solely to rejoice in this salvation. An office-seeking friend of Amos Kendall's said, “I am ashamed of myself, for I feel as if every man I meet knew what I came for.” “Don't distress yourself,” replied Kendall, “for every man you meet is on the same business.” Reports were rife that the office-hunters pressed their claims in a manner which was “the reverse of courteous,” that they intruded upon the president's private hours, and “perforated” all the rooms of his mansion “to get a peep at him.” These rumors were denied, and the organization of the presidential household was described as rendering such persecution impossible; but the accounts of members of the government confirm the story, — Hamilton, Ingham, and Van Buren all bear witness to the number and pertinacity of the applicants. Van Buren formulated a scheme to rid the streets of the mob before making removals; but it was not tried, and the disorder, though modified as time went on, seems to have continued until the most desirable places

had been disposed of. This crowd was in effect a monster petition in favor of removals.

The administration did not see fit to make a definite pronouncement of its policy. Retrenchment, rather than proscription, was hinted at in the inaugural, “In the performance of a task thus generally delineated, I shall endeavor to select men whose diligence and talents will insure in their respective stations able and effective coöperation, depending for the advancement of the public service more on the integrity and zeal of the public officers than on their number.” The editor of the Nashville Gazette went to Washington, and after he returned announced, “In all cases where the official influence was prostituted in the last contest, to subserve the electioneering purposes of the coalition, the incumbents will be removed”; others, however, even Adams men, were to be allowed to retain office “provided no other objection existed.” The Richmond Enquirer, in commenting on this, naïvely remarked, “After this wholesome purgation, what portion of the original executive functionaries will be found worthy to be retained in the service, is not as yet foreseen.” After the acts of the administration had revealed its policy, Jackson, in his first annual message, December, 1829, formulated the principles which had guided him: —

“There are, perhaps, few men who can for any great length of time enjoy office and power without being more or less under the influence of feelings unfavorable to the faithful discharge of their public duties. Their integrity may be proof against improper considerations immediately addressed to themselves, but they are apt to acquire a habit of looking with indifference upon the public interests and of tolerating conduct from which an unpracticed man would revolt. Office is considered as a species of property, and government rather as a means of promoting individual interests than as an instrument created solely for the service of the people. Corruption in some and in others a perversion of correct feelings and principles divert government from its legitimate ends, and make it an engine for the

support of the few at the expense of the many. The duties of all public offices are, or at least admit of being made, so plain and simple that men of intelligence may readily qualify themselves for their performance; and I can not but believe that more is lost by the long continuance of men in office than is generally to be gained by their experience. I submit, therefore, to your consideration whether the efficiency of the government would not be promoted, and official industry and integrity better secured, by a general extension of the law which limits appointments to four years.

“In a country where offices are created solely for the benefit of the people no one man has any more intrinsic right to official station than another. Offices were not established to give support to particular men at the public expense. No individual wrong is, therefore, done by removal, since neither appointment to nor continuance in office is matter of right. The incumbent became an officer with a view to public benefits, and when these require his removal they are not to be sacrificed to private interests. It is the people, and they alone, who have a right to complain when a bad officer is substituted for a good one. He who is removed has the same means of obtaining a living that are enjoyed by the millions who never held office. The proposed limitation would destroy the idea of property now so generally connected with official station, and although individual distress may be sometimes produced, it would, by promoting that rotation which constitutes a leading principle in the republican creed, give healthful action to the system.”

The policy thus enunciated threw every office in the civil service open to competition. The vague charge of misusing office to support Adams was one that could be brought, and proved ex parte, against any office-holder. The contrast of this policy with Jefferson's practice of opening up first one set of offices and then another is striking. This possibility of a simultaneous change of the entire civil list meant that the appointing power must deal at once with a great number and a great variety of cases; and the complexity of its task was increased by the other principle, that the duties of the various offices were

so plain and simple that any men of intelligence could perform them. It was A B C democracy: any applicant could aspire to any office. When it is remembered in addition that the offices were hundreds and the office-beggars were thousands, the difficulties of distribution are apparent.

Necessity is sure to evolve any machine that is really essential, but time is required for the process. Thus, although means were finally found for systematically dividing the spoils, they were not discovered early enough to save the Jackson administration from embarrassment. As of old, congressmen were active and anxious to relieve the president by assuming the whole task themselves; delegations arranged slates, and it was reported that Congress dictated the appointment of Ingham as secretary of the treasury. On the whole, however, congressional influence seems to have been less than usual, and each member exerted influence according to his individuality. Much stress seems to have been placed on petitions. Duff Green urged on Governor Edwards the importance of “signatures”; and a marshalship in Pennsylvania is said to have been awarded to that candidate whose petition was largest. A man who desired the register's office at Crawfordsville brought a petition from the Republican members of the state legislature, with private letters. Probably petitions carried more weight than had been usual, though letters of influential men almost equalled them in importance.

Occasionally testimonials were brought proving the unfitness of the incumbents of the positions applied for. Some notes of this character have been published by a Mr. Derby, who claimed that he carried them with him to Washington. “I certify that I heard Major —— [Melville?] say that he believed Jackson to be a damned rascal”: “I certify that many times, in conversation, Major —— said, that he was a public officer under Adams, and thought it his duty to stick by his superior officer, and believed he had more knowledge

in his little finger, than old Jackson had in his whole body.” Few applicants, however, had sufficiently definite ideas of what they wanted to enable them to bring charges against a specific officer. Samuel Swartwout, in a letter to Jesse Hoyt, expresses the general attitude: “I hold to your doctrine fully, that for the purpose of keeping Mr. Adams in, and Gen. Jackson out of power, is entitled to the least lenity or mercy, save that of hanging. So we think both alike on that head. Whether or not, I shall get anything in the general scramble for plunder, remains to be proven; but I rather guess I shall. What it will be is not yet so certain; perhaps Keeper of the Bergen lighthouse. I rather think Massa Pomp stands a smart chance of going somewhere, perhaps to the place you have named or to the devil.”

Jackson's two most important advisers with regard to the distribution of the patronage were Martin Van Buren, secretary of state, and General Duff Green, administration editor and political manager of the Calhoun faction. Van Buren tried to avoid the turmoil of the conflict; he did not reach Washington until March 22; and he wrote to James Hamilton, his representative with the president, that he was anxious that his preferences for the cabinet should not be pressed in his name, though he was glad enough to have Hamilton urge them. The most important New York appointment, that of Swartwout as collector, was made against his wishes, and some of his New York supporters were restive at this unexpected passivity; but he was none the less a power. His was the velvet glove; his influence with Jackson lay in the very fact that he knew when to give way; his followers he rather managed than commanded, letting them fight out their family quarrels among themselves; but in the end the person who could serve him was rewarded. He was aptly called the “Little Magician.” As head of the Albany Regency he was

looked upon by many Northern politicians as the best man on whom to rely for support when asking for office, and many delegations were sent to Washington to assure him of support in his candidacy for the succession and to request his aid in pushing through a slate of appointments. It mattered not how few Jackson's supporters might be in any district — they were sure to be divided as to the sharing of the spoils. When, therefore, one faction had declared for Van Buren, the other was swift to enroll under the banner of the only other prominent candidate for the presidency, Vice-president Calhoun. The latter interfered in the politics of the patronage much less than Van Buren did, much less than he had done himself at an earlier period; but was ably represented by that typical office-monger, General Green, and so the Calhoun followers were as well taken care of as those of Van Buren.

One of these factional contests took place in Boston, and was described in an elaborate political pamphlet written by one of the participants after he had deserted to the Whig party, and corroborated by the Boston press of the period. The regular state organization declared for Calhoun, and sent Nathaniel Greene, editor of the Statesman, to the capital to press upon the administration a list of appointments. Another faction, represented by the Bulletin, cried “Stop thief,” hastily rallied in support of the Van Buren plan of a second term for Jackson, and sent a counter embassy to make plain to the president their services in the past and their influence for the future. Both delegations were well received, and the offices were divided between them.

A similar conflict in Illinois may be studied in the letters of Duff Green himself to Governor Edwards. The latter expected to profit by the adoption of a policy which he had so long advocated, and his friends supposed that he would have “as much influence over General Jackson as any other man in this state.” He evidently desired to declare openly for Calhoun, and to rely upon General Green's influence at Washington; but Green

wrote: “It is particularly desirable that the conflicting interests of our party be made to harmonize and to prevent a premature collision. It is agreed on all hands that Gen'l Jackson shall hold a position for re-election if necessary or expedient. Perhaps he may desire it, and if so, no one can prevent his re-election. You will therefore plainly see the impropriety of getting up at this time any new organization of parties based upon any speculation as to a competition between Van Buren and your personal friend.”

The inevitable conflict came, however; and Kinney, an ancient political foe of Edwards, went to Washington, declared for Van Buren, and secured all the Illinois appointments. As early as July, 1829, one of the governor's friends wrote, “I have seen that your expectations have not been realized with regard to the reforming system.” Green wrote to him explaining the unfavorable nominations, blaming Edwards for not securing enough signatures in favor of his candidates, promising him better luck in the future, and urging him to stand by Jackson; but through all the letters there is a tone of nervousness and apprehension. By the spring of 1830 Green gave up his hope of defeating Van Buren by secret manœuvre, and acknowledged that his plans and those of his opponents must come into early conflict. He was not ready to break with Jackson, but he wrote: “My own individual opinion is that Gen. Jackson will not be a candidate, and that Mr. Calhoun will be the candidate of the South and West, and that he will also obtain the Democracy of New England. Pennsylvania, New York, and Ohio are more doubtful”; and he added that the Van Buren plan was to have Jackson reflected. It is clear from the oscillation of his policy that Duff Green felt that he was losing ground, but not until October, 1830, did he confess to Edwards that his power was waning. “The appointments in your State,” he wrote, “have been the source of much anxiety to me. I could not control them.” In November he gave up all hope of reconciling the two factions or of keeping on good terms with both, but wrote to Edwards declaring for Calhoun, and adding,

“I feel strong enough for the crisis.” In January, 1832, he again wrote to Edwards, “Instead of using the patronage upon the high principle on which it was given to him of promoting the public good, he [Jackson] uses it as a personal chattel, to be administered to advance his own re-election and to advance the private interests of a few dependants.” The fact that his mortification over appointments rankled so long after the actual break with Jackson took place would seem to point to that as one reason for his following Calhoun to the tents of the Myrmidons.

Duff Green was not the only political leader who had cause complain that his recommendations were slighted. In regard to appointments, as in all other matters, Jackson was independent, and would willingly sacrifice party welfare to the calls of friendship or of personal whim. Private considerations alone seem to have led to the choice of Major Eaton to be secretary of war, and of Swartwout as collector at New York. Parton, in his life of Jackson, gives as authentic the autobiographical account of a “Successful Politician”; it is at any rate characteristic. A young man, belonging to one of the prominent political families of New York, but himself of no prominence, obtains a small clerkship at Washington through the influence of Van Buren, and his duties bring him into close contact with the president. One day he asked Jackson if he is not lonesome. “Why should I be lonesome, with the house filled with people?” said the president. “Yes,” said the young clerk, “there are plenty here, but they all have axes to grind.” The general confessed that he was lonesome, and as it developed that this young man had no axe to grind, he became the president's friend. Subsequently one of the very fat offices in New York became vacant, and he applied for it on his own responsibility, obtained it, and later received a reappointment. Of course Van Buren did not like to see such an office wasted on a political nonentity, but he was too wise to interfere with his chief.

When, however, he became president, he appointed another man to the post.

The position of postmaster at Albany was an important one for the New York democracy. In 1829 it was still held by that General Solomon Van Rensselaer whose appointment, it will be remembered, had been vigorously opposed by Van Buren, who now felt sure of his revenge, and arranged for a new appointment. General Van Rensselaer, however, went to Washington, gained access to the president, and prepared to tear open his shirt and show the wounds which he had received in fighting for his country. He was instantly confirmed in his post. Men might flatter themselves that they guided Old Hickory, but they needed to drive with a very loose rein, and must be ready to yield the direction on any show of resistance.

The plans of the party leaders were still further disturbed by the Senate. We have seen that friction between the two branches of the appointing power was by no means unusual, but never before 1829 had it assumed any considerable degree of political importance. Now trouble was anticipated from the first, as the Senate would be controlled by the opposition and would be sure to oppose the proscriptive policy. For some days after the 4th of March, Branch, Eaton, and Berrien, although nominated as members of the cabinet, retained their seats in the Senate, in order to facilitate the starting of the administration. So eager were the Jackson managers to secure a quiet launching for their new experiment in government that they deferred some nominations likely to be resisted; and such men as Amos Kendall and William B. Lewis were appointed to office the day after the Senate adjourned. Thus the special session passed off peacefully, and no difficulty was to be feared for eight months.

With the first regular session in December, 1829, began an obstinate struggle. During the summer Jackson had, to a great extent, accomplished his proscription: the full issue was before

the country, and the opposition prepared to make the most of the popular outcry which, voiced by the anti-Jackson press, seemed to offer a chance for successful attack. They could not, of course, take the stand of rejecting all nominations; public opinion would not have endured a course so factious. Amos Kendall says that they did “reject on frivolous grounds many of his [Jackson's] best nominations”; and Louis McLane wrote to Hamilton, “It is impossible that some evil spirit is not at work in that body, otherwise the reckless course of the opposition must have united the majority in spite of all men's dislike; but I confess I want the clue to some of the rejections.”

The fact is that the Senate refused to confirm some of the most prominent Jackson politicians, men of great ability but particularly obnoxious to the opposition, — men like Isaac Hill and Mordecai M. Noah. Amos Kendall himself, one of the most efficient public officers that Jackson appointed, was confirmed only by the casting vote of Vice-president Calhoun. Some of the men rejected would seem to have deserved their fate; but whether rejected for good reasons or bad, they became sure of the good-will of the president, who was moved to inexpressible wrath at this unprecedented opposition to his will. Sometimes he would give the victim a new position; generally he would renominate him, even a third time. This bootless contest went on as long as the opposition controlled the Senate, the most conspicuous rejection being that of Van Buren when nominated as minister to England.

The opposition soon saw the futility of thus cutting off nominations in detail, and sought to devise some general bulwark to protect such of their friends as still remained in office, and to put a limit to the power of the executive. The Senate adopted a resolution in 1831, declaring “that it is inexpedient to appoint a citizen of any one State to an office which may be vacated or

become vacant in any other State. . . without some evident necessity for such appointment.” Jackson replied by a message, March 2, 1833, in which he claimed that this was an attempt unconstitutionally to restrain the president's appointing power, and said that he felt it to be his duty to abstain from any further efforts to fill the offices nominations to which had called out the resolution. In January, 1832, a more sweeping resolution was introduced by Senator Ewing: “That it is inexpedient for the Senate to advise and consent to the appointment of any person, to fill a supposed vacancy in any office, occasioned by the removal of a prior incumbent, unless such prior incumbent shall appear to have been removed for a sufficient cause.”

These resolutions were intended simply to guide the Senate in the execution of its constitutional function of advising and consenting to appointments; but there were many anti-Jackson men who wished to go farther, and to revive the old claim of the Senate to share in the removing power. A very good case might be made out for such a construction of the constitutional clauses governing the subject; but from the point of view of expediency such a course was most undesirable, and the more moderate of the opposition discountenanced it. John Quincy Adams saw the danger of tampering with constitutional principles to further the ends of the hour, and his son wrote an able pamphlet against the proposed action; while the venerable Madison, in almost his last letter, urged adherence to the accepted interpretation, which he had done so much to establish.

Nevertheless, in 1835 a committee to investigate the patronage proposed that the president submit to the Senate the reasons for each removal, a suggestion which had little practical significance, as there was no chance of making it a law, owing to the attitude of the House of Representatives. Jackson was sure to disregard a mere resolution of the Senate. In fact, when the reasons for the removal of Gideon Fitz were requested

on the ground that such information was necessary to enable the Senate to act wisely on the nomination of his successor, the president refused to comply, arguing that the power of removal belonged to him exclusively, and that, should the Senate in executive session consider the causes of removal, the officer would thus be subjected to trial by a secret tribunal.

Such crude machinery as did exist for distribution of offices was thus subjected to the double strain of Jackson's independence and the opposition of the Senate, which made it impossible for the leaders of the party to use the patronage with the best possible political effect. The spoils system was introduced, but the spoils were rather enjoyed as the fruit of the victory of 1828 than employed in the manner best calculated to secure victory anew in 1832. An illustration of the utter confusion prevailing in Washington early in the administration is found in the case of the Hartford post-office. One Norton was appointed to the position in place of Low removed. He transferred his family from Washington to Hartford, entered upon the duties of his office, and the next day found himself superseded by John M. Niles. Petitions in favor of Mr. Norton's retention received many signatures, but he was unable to regain the post.

In spite of this confusion and clash of interests, it is possible to distinguish some guiding principles which controlled appointments when Jackson was tractable and the Senate tired of opposition. Samuel Swartwout wrote to Jesse Hoyt (March 14, 1829), "The great goers are the new men; the old troopers being all spavined and ringboned from previous hard travel." A new generation, or rather the Democratic half of a new generation, came to the front with Jackson, bringing fresh blood and strange manners into the civil service. Moreover, old party distinction disappeared, and men of Federalist antecedents received recognition, though the prejudice against them had by no means died out.

It is the general opinion that fitness for the duties of office was scarcely considered by Jackson. James A. Hamilton, who was present at cabinet discussions and was in constant correspondence with Van Buren, tells us that it was never mentioned. Hamilton's memory, however, was very poor, and his statement is contradicted by letters which he himself made public. Thus, Van Buren wrote to him in March, 1829: “I cannot, from my total want of knowledge as to Barry's professional talents, speak as to the propriety of his appointment. Politically it would be well.” February 15, 1829, Van Buren wrote to Major Eaton: “You want for the other concern [evidently the cabinet] practical, intelligent, and efficient men, who are conversant with the affairs of the nation, and in whom the people have confidence, men whose capacities are adapted to the discharge of the public business, whether they might, or might not, shine in the composition of essays on abstract and abstruse subjects.” It is evident that efficiency was considered, though it was made of less importance than in previous administrations and was differently defined.

One class of appointments has brought to Jackson, as to other presidents, perhaps undeserved credit, — that of literary men to diplomatic posts. Such appointments are generally non-political and are therefore lauded; but poets and novelists are seldom better diplomats than are politicians, and it is almost as mischievous to use the civil service as a pension fund for literary celebrities as for disabled soldiers or defeated congressmen. The few appointments of this character made by Jackson brought in a flood of applications from budding geniuses all over the country. Livingston, when secretary of state, wrote to an incoming senator who had recommended such a young man for appointment that he had seen the latter and could not make him a consul, — that the selection of Cooper and Irving did not mean that all novelists were good diplomats.

In the majority of cases the most important reasons for appointment were political. Some of the fortunate had been “original Jackson men”; others had made sacrifices by

the party at the last moment; some, like Henry Lee and William B. Lewis, had done Jackson's writing for him. John Randolph, who spent ten days in Russia as minister, and drew $21,407 on his return, contributed the support of his name. As a class, the editors fared the best. The newspapers had been very influential in the campaign of 1828, spreading broadcast charges of dishonesty in Adams's civil service, and of bargain and corruption. The day of the great newspapers, moreover, had not come: the local sheet was the powerful factor; and as the list of subscribers was small, advertisements cheap, and the cost of distribution heavy, such papers were seldom very profitable, and often ruined their owners. It was for this reason particularly that men like Nathaniel Greene of Boston, Dabney F. Carr of Baltimore, Mordecai M. Noah of New York, Amos Kendall, Duff Green, and many others were acknowledged to deserve office. Such appointments were very generally attacked, but Niles pointed out that they were not objectionable if the editors resigned from their papers; otherwise he said, the franking privilege gave them an undue advantage over their competitors.

It was not proposed that editors resign, or that appointees generally relax their political exertions on receiving office; office was not merely a reward for past service, but an incitement to further activity. Amos Kendall wrote for the Washington press; and Mr. Noah, in an editorial concerning his appointment as naval officer at New York, said that since his new duties did not interfere with the duties and obligations he owed to the Republican party, he would not abate the attention hitherto paid to the columns of the Enquirer, which he hoped to improve in every department. Duff Green, in return for the government printing, made his journal the official mouthpiece of the administration. When the break between the president and vice-president took place, a new paper was

the Globe, and to its editors, Blair and Rives, was given what government printing the Democrats could control.

Service was expected of other officers as well. March 30, 1834, William B. Lewis wrote to Hamilton: “Tell Swartwout to peel off his coat and roll up his sleeves also; but, perhaps, as he has to go through the ‘glorious Senate,’ it would not be prudent for him to do so. Price, as his nomination will be certainly confirmed before the 8th, must do his own and Swartwout's part too.” Charles T. Congdon, in his Reminiscences of a Journalist, says that in 1840 he saw a circular from Kendall to the deputy postmasters, asking them to work for Van Buren, and adding, “I shall take care that the high-minded and patriotic men who do this service shall have no cause to regret their exertions.” Political assessments also appear promptly on the incoming of the spoils system; Derby describes, apparently truthfully, an early instance of such practice in Boston. The significant fact in regard to the making of appointments is the prominence, hitherto unusual, which was given to partisan activity past and future: the Federalists demanded fitness and harmony of opinion; Jefferson in addition considered past usefulness to the party; under Jackson the promise of future activity became of paramount importance. To faith must be added good works.

We have discussed the machinery by which the spoils were divided, and the principles by which this machinery was controlled; the question now arises as to how complete a change was made in the public offices. The impression is very general that the sweep was, proportionally, the largest in our history; but doubtless the novelty of the proceeding, and the consequent effect it made upon contemporaries, is largely responsible for this view, which is decidedly a mistaken one. The very haphazard manner in which the matter was handled was as favorable to the retention of some officers as to the removal of others. There were Jackson men at Washington who worked to retain

some old public servants, either for personal reasons or because of their merit. Hamilton claims that he saved, among others, Henry Wheaton; and Van Buren felt that only with the greatest delicacy could he remove “old Mr. Maury who, having been appointed by General Washington, has, on that account, some sanctity attached to his commission.”

Of an approximate total of 612 presidential officers, only 252 were removed. The number of removals would be more imposing if the deputy postmasters were included; but they were not made presidential officers until 1836. Niles, April 3, 1830, gives a list of 400 removals in this department, and Benton places the number at 600. As there were about 8000 deputy postmasters in the country, the proportion removed was not large; but in many cases the emoluments were so very small as to discourage competition. Moreover, Jackson did not find the civil service entirely hostile to him. Adams's postmaster-general, McLean, was one of Jackson's most conspicuous supporters; and, though he was a moderate man and the charges that he had actively used his appointing power to further his political views are probably untrue, it is not to be supposed that he rigidly excluded Jackson men from office previous to Jackson's election. It is to be presumed, therefore, that a rather large portion of the appointees of the post-office department were Jackson men. Adams estimated, doubtless with some exaggeration, that more than four-fifths of the customs officials were opposed to his election in 1825; and as he made no removals, many would naturally oppose him in 1829. Some of these Jackson men found in office were doubtless removed as a result of the clashing of various interests at Washington; still many must have retained their places. A third explanatory consideration

is that comparatively few removals were made in the South, particularly the sea-board South. From these states came few office-beggars, that is, beggars for the smaller offices; for positions of dignity they were as eager as any section, and Virginia undoubtedly felt slighted at being left out of the cabinet. With these facts in mind, we may conclude, therefore, that Jackson's opponents were almost completely swept out of the paying presidential offices in the North and West.

The fate of subordinates in local offices and in the departments at Washington is obscure. The Blue Books or Official Registers give the changes every two years, but no indication as to cause. The policy varied, too, with each appointing official, who seems to have been allowed a very large measure of discretion. Van Buren wrote to Hamilton in March, 1829: “As to the publication in the newspapers I have more to say.

So far as depends on me, my course will be to restore by a single order every one who has been turned out by Mr. Clay for political reasons, unless circumstances of a personal character have since arisen which would make the reappointment in any case improper. To ascertain that, will take a little time. There I would pause.” In 1825 there were twelve clerks in the office of the secretary of state; by September 30, 1829, the number had grown to fifteen, but only four of the original twelve were still there; in 1833 but two of these four remained. Amos Kendall, on becoming fourth auditor, insisted that he should control the appointment of his clerks. In 1829 there were sixteen in his office, one more than there had been in 1825; eight of those serving in 1825 were still employed, but one was at a reduced salary. In 1833 two of these eight survivors had disappeared, but their places had not been filled.

The Globe, November 4, 1841, stated that there were employed in Washington 220 Democrats receiving $277,115, and 281 Whigs with salaries amounting to $336,308; and Benton says that a majority of the employees there were opposed to Jackson. Such estimates are totally unreliable, for parties during the period were in too chaotic a condition to allow an accurate computation; but it is evident that many subordinates were retained, some because they were indispensable, and some because they imitated the Vicar of Bray. In the local offices a similar diversity of practice is observable. In Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York, and Boston notable changes were made, while in many places there was no abnormal break whatever.

In the discussion of Jefferson's administration, it was pointed out that the attack on the judiciary should be connected with the general policy toward the patronage. The Jackson managers were not greatly disturbed by a hostile judiciary, — they ignored it when it interfered with their plans; but there was another bit of patronage, not officially belonging to the public

service, which they were unwilling to let slip through their fingers, the United States Bank. Jefferson wrote to Gallatin, July 12, 1803: “As to the patronage of the Republican Bank at Providence, I am decidedly in favor of making all the banks Republican, by sharing deposits among them in proportion to the disposition they show; if the law now forbids it, we should not permit another session of Congress to pass without amending it.” In the days before the free banking system, all banks had the birthmark of politics; and it is not surprising that those in control of the national government demanded a share of the bank patronage. A recent writer has shown that Jackson's attitude was not determined by the Portsmouth episode, but has pointed out on the other hand that Biddle endeavored to conciliate Jackson by favorable appointments, turning the Nashville branch into a Democratic institution and corresponding continually with Major Lewis on this subject. Soon the break between the government and the bank became irreconcilable and the exchange of favors ceased.

Jackson promised more than the removal of unpopular officers; he announced that he would reform the administration, and made efforts to carry out this pledge. His first step, like Jefferson's when he became president, was thoroughly to investigate the accounts of the preceding administration, in hope that facts to its discredit might be discovered. Amos Kendall says: “Among the custom-house officers and other receivers of public moneys, numerous peculators were discovered and hurled from office. The depredations of those who were removed within the first eighteen months of General Jackson's administration, in this department of the public service, were at least $280,000.” The real result, however, was to show the substantial honesty of the service under Adams. In some instances it was found that the government was the debtor. The unfavorable balance against Tobias Watkins, whose case was most commented on by the Jackson press, was apparently only technical.

Various administrative reforms were attempted. To quote again from Kendall: “The unrestrained power of the treasurer over the public funds, by which they could be drawn upon his individual check, was taken away by a new regulation. Frauds in payment of fishing bounties were stopped, and two collectors, believed to have been engaged in them, removed from office; in consequence of which there was a saving, in the first year of the administration in that branch of expenditure, of $51,271.41.”

As for retrenchment, Niles asserted that the only action taken had been the abolition of the office of draughtsman in the House of Representatives. This is somewhat unfair. The Democrats had larger plans; in 1830 a House committee brought in an elaborate scheme, if not to reduce expenditures, at least to control them; and in 1833 the president sent to Congress a report from the secretary of state, proposing a reformation of the consular service. This latter plan, while not extensive, was wholesome; consuls were to be discouraged from entering into trade, adequate salaries were to be provided, and fees were to be curtailed and regulated, That more was not accomplished was not solely the fault of the Jackson leaders, for they did not have complete control of Congress. Even with this hindrance, some good was done. For example, the roll of salaries (there were some duplications of officers) at the Norfolk custom-house was reduced from forty-one in 1825 to thirty-three in 1829 and seventeen in 1833; the reduction in the amount paid, however, was only from $15,991.86 in 1825 to $13,164.50 in 1833. Nevertheless, it needs no accumulation of evidence to show that the whole method of appointment told against effective administration. The interest in reform lay in finding opponents wrong, rather than in watching friends carefully. Hamilton says that the president told him, “Go to the duties of your office, and make as much money as you can.” Kendall was an efficient officer; but the “close devotion” for six hours each day which he exacted from his clerks, he would

probably have dubbed aristocratic leisure before he came into office.

Political reform fared worse than administrative. The appointment of numerous members of Congress to office by the party which had long been denouncing such practice delighted Jackson's opponents, and grieved many of his friends. In Tennessee, Mr. Miller, who intended to run for Congress in support of Jackson, withdrew, ostensibly at least, because the latter had seduced one governor and three senators into his cabinet. Jackson felt such criticism, and in his first annual message said, “While members of Congress can be constitutionally appointed to offices of trust and profit it will be the practice, even under the most conscientious adherence to duty, to select them for such stations as they are believed to be better qualified to fill than other citizens,” and he advised Congress to prepare an amendment prohibiting such appointments, but it took no action on the recommendation, and interest in this issue gradually died out after the overthrow of the congressional caucus.

Early in Jackson's term, Philip Hone visited Washington and conversed with many persons prominent in society and in politics. He records: "The proscriptive course which has been pursued in relation to removals and appointments has served to cool their friends and to exasperate their enemies. . . . If Jackson succeeds for another term, it will be owing to the difficulty of agreeing upon his successor, rather than to the popularity of his administration." An intense gloom hung over the city in the spring of 1829; and when, shortly after the proscription began, John Henshaw, a clerk in the treasury department, committed suicide, Adams attributed his act to fear of removal. There can be no doubt that the public opinion of Washington condemned the administration, especially because

of its policy of removals. The capital was thirty years old, with a stable population and an established society. Its solitary industry was government, and when its respected citizens were thrown out of office there was little for them to do but to go back and try to reëstablish their connection with the home communities from which they had long been severed. The alteration of political methods affected Washington more nearly than any other part of the country, and it took time to make the adjustment. July 13, 1829, Van Buren wrote to Hamilton, “Mr. Calvert. . . damns us up hill and down for reducing the value of real estate.” When it is recalled that in 1801 very few, even of the higher officers, had brought their families to the wilderness town on the Potomac, and that consequently few homes were broken up by Jefferson's removals, it will seem less strange that this proscription has not lived in the popular memory, while that of Jackson is a well-established tradition.

In the country at large the feeling was not so intense; but the big-letter headings of the Columbian Centinel indicate a disposition to make party capital out of the innovation; while the newspaper correspondence on the subject is voluminous, containing many letters from dismissed officers, which show the evils of rotation and the true aim of the civil service. Particularly the case of the venerable Major Melville, called the “last of the Mohawks,” or participators in the Boston Tea-Party, was exhibited to excite sympathy. The character of many of the new appointees was roundly attacked. Yet the contest was not without its amenities: McLean wrote to one man removed, that he had faithfully performed his duties; and the Adams papers occasionally acknowledged that good appointments were made.

Aside from personal hardships and the more obvious evils of frequent change of officers, the opposition press most deplored the tendency of the new system to create a class of office-seekers. The Massachusetts Spy feared that the nature of our

institutions tempted every man to fit his son for a profession, that the ranks were becoming overcrowded, and that the unsuccessful would be encouraged to seek government support; and even the Jackson Gazette voiced similar fears. It is interesting to note that De Tocqueville, in spite of his American experience, believed that office-hunting was characteristic rather of monarchies than of democracies. The true significance of the crowd of applicants we shall discuss later.

The dissatisfaction was not entirely confined to the opponents of Jackson. Hamilton wrote, April 23, 1829, that he was “cruelly disappointed at the manner in which, and to the extent removals and appointments are made”; and he was not alone. Particularly in the Southern press a note of dissent is perceived: removals are defended as necessary under the circumstances, but obviously it was not universally desired that the custom should become established. In contradistinction to Jackson's optimistic observation in regard to the ability of any American to fill any vacancy, the Jackson Gazette said that even the subordinate places required several months, or even years of experience.

No doubt or misgiving, however, can be found in the jubilant note of the Telegraph and the Globe: they foretold, welcomed, and defended every step in the progress of the spoils system. “Reform,” said the Telegraph, — “the very word acts like an electric shock upon some men.” They had no sympathy for men removed, — those who could not get a living otherwise were not worth their salaries to the government, — let them “root, hog, or die.” “There are many clerks in the departments,” wrote a correspondent to the Telegraph, March 27, 1829, “who feel they have a vested right in the premises, based on the proscriptive claims of the term of twenty, thirty, and forty years' actual possession. Secondly, some approximation of equality in the distribution of the government favors among its citizens ought always to be held in the view of the republic.”

The arguments of the Telegraph were widely echoed by the press, and were summed up by Marcy in his famous phrase, “To the victors belong the spoils.” The elections showed that, if the people did not support Jackson because of his method of reform, they at any rate supported him in spite of it.


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cuming, Alexander


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cuming, Hugh


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cumming, Alexander


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cumming, James (d.1827)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cumming, James (1777-1861)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hardy, Charles (1680?-1744)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cumming, Joseph George


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cumming, Roualeyn George Gordon-


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cumming, Thomas


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hardy, Charles (1716?-1780)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cumming, William (fl.1797-1823)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cunard, Samuel


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cundy, Thomas (1765-1825)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cundy, Thomas (1790-1867)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cungar


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cuningham, William


text:
The New International Encyclopædia/Strict Constructionists

STRICT CONSTRUCTIONISTS. A term in American politics applied to those who, for various reasons, have maintained that the Federal Constitution should be construed strictly in accordance with its letter, as opposed to those, known as ‘broad constructionists,’ who have believed that the Constitution should be construed liberally, and have claimed for the General Government more or less extensive powers, called ‘indirect powers’ or ‘implied powers,’ not granted specifically by the Fundamental Law. Conflicts between the adherents of the two views have recurred frequently in the history of the United States, e.g. in the controversies over the chartering of a United States Bank, over the question of ‘internal improvements,’ and over the power of the General Government with regard to the restriction or prohibition of slavery in the Territories; and it is upon this question that, directly or indirectly, party differences in the United States have been largely based. In general, it

may be said that the strict constructionist view has been held, more or less consistently, by the Anti-Federalist and Democratic parties (qq.v.); and the broad constructionist view, more or less consistently, by the Federalist, National Republican, Whig, Free-Soil, and Republican parties (qq.v.); though there has been a tendency for the party iu power, irrespective of its platform, to lean to the side of broad or liberal construction, and for the party in opposition, also irrespective of its platform, to lean to the side of strict construction. A broad constructionist policy has always had for its effect the strengthening of the Central Government as compared with the States; and a strict constructionist policy the strengthening of the States as compared with the Central Government. See , section on History.


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cunningham, Alexander (d.1488)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cunningham, Alexander (d.1574)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cunningham, Alexander (1655?-1730)


text:
Page:A dictionary of the Sunda language of Java.djvu/434

Rh Saběulah, one side, one half, the side of, the other side. Side, quarter, direction, Saběulah ti wétan, on the East side. Saběulah ti diyo, on this side. Saběulah ti ditu, on that side. Di béré saběulah, he gave a bit or piece. Saběulah na děui, on the other side.

Saběulahken, to set aside, to separate, to put apart.

Sabil, Arabic, occurs only in the expression Prang sabil, a war between Mahomedans and disbelievers or infidels. Javanese Dictionaries give Sabil as: deadly, implacable. Prang sabil is thus: implacable war,—as with infidels who can have no mercy.

Sablak, the idiomatic expression of drawing a weapon. Drawing a weapon, as a sword, with a flourish. Pědang na sablak bai di tarik, with a flourish he drew out his sword.

Sablas, eleven. See also Sawělas, and Wělas.

Sabrang, on the other side of the river, or any water. On the opposite shore. Foreign; outlandish. Kuda sabrang, a foreign horse. Bakakas sabrang, outlandish utensils. Nyabrang, to cross the water. Sabrangan gědong, on the bank of the river opposite to the mansion. Daik ka sabrang, I want to go over the river; I wish to cross the water. In Sumbawa they talk of a Brang réa, which means the great river (Batavian Transactions, Vol. 25, page 23). Brang is thus in the language of Sumbawa: a river, and will lead to the analysis of Sabrang on Java, where it is modified to mean: crossing a river, or across a river.

Sabuk, a sash, a belt, a girdle, worn round the loins. The same as Běuběur, which see.

Sabun, Portuguese Sabao, soap.

Sabung, to fight cocks. It is more usual to say Adu kotok, literally to fight cocks. The word Panyabungan, for cockpit, or cock fighting place, is in use.

Sabut, the fibrous, hairy substance which envelops the shell of the cocoa nut. This substance, when teased out, is somewhat like oakum, and is then spun into yarns for making rope, or used for stuffing cushions etc.

Sacha, open and sincere. Satija, C. 699, true; certain; sincere; honest; speaking the truth. Chunduk ka rain, sacha ka ménak, submitting to the king, clean-breasted to the nobles.

Sachanggěum, a handful. See Changgěum.

Sada, sound, noise; the cry of an animal, a bird or an insect. Di sada, it emits a sound or cry. Sada, C. 700, sound, noise.

Sadagori, tho name of a humble plant, found about grass lands which are kept short by cattle grazing, often found near houses or villages. It has a wiry hard stem, with numerous small leaves serrated on the edges, and bears a pretty yellow flower, with five petals, terminal to the twigs. This name sounds Sanscritic, and yet for so simple a plant, it is odd to find a foreign name, where the really indigenous names of most plants are so common. Sadā, C. 700, always, at all times. Gowri, C. 185, one of the names of the goddess Parvati; a young girl, eight years old; any young girl prior to menstruation; a moid, a virgin; the wife of the deity Varuna;


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cunningham, Alexander (1654-1737)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cunningham, Allan (1791-1839)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cunningham, Allan (1784-1842)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cunningham, Charles


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cunningham, Edmund Francis


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cunningham, Francis


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cunningham, James (d.1709?)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cunningham, James (1749-1791)


text:
Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/133

 construction, three stories high, and with only a few slits for windows. Once or twice we passed through an open bazaar strongly walled and with a fortified gate at either end, serving as a brief resting-place for the caravans hurrying over this dangerous stretch of road.

As we travelled northward we saw fewer of the fine stone bridges of the south; the construction was now generally of wood, not unlike in outline the disfiguring structures of New England, but improved by open sides and a picturesque curly roof of tiles. Usually they were approached by a flight of steps, showing conclusively, if proof were needed, that there were no wheeled vehicles to consider. And, indeed, traffic generally was of limited character after we left the pass. Occasionally we overtook coolies hurrying along with their precious loads of white wax insects, or bending under long, thick pine or cypress boards, sometimes towering high above their heads or else strapped across their shoulders, forcing them to move crab-fashion along the narrow trails. On inquiry I learned that deeply embedded in the soil of the hills are found huge trees, rows of sprouts marking their location. These are dug up with much effort and sawn into boards which are in great request for the ponderous Chinese coffins. It would seem as though the supply must be inexhaustible, for when Sir Alexander Hosie came this way, a generation ago, he noted the

title: Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/133


text:
Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/134

 same traffic and received the same explanation. With the prohibition of the poppy, the region has for the moment little export trade, while the imports seem to consist mainly of military supplies for the Chien-ch'ang garrisons. However, the road is in unusually good condition, for the whole way from Teng-hsiang-ying to Yüeh-hsi, our next stop, a distance of perhaps thirty-five miles, is well paved with broad flags. As we drew near to the town the valley opened a little, affording a glimpse of a snow peak to the north, while toward the southeast we look up a narrow gorge into Lololand, the border being but some fifteen miles away. This is almost the only break in the flanking hills that wall in the Forbidden Land. Yüeh-hsi itself lies in the centre of a rock-strewn plain broken by a few rice- and maize-fields, and is important as a military post guarding the trade route against this easy way of attack. The best room of the inn smelt to heaven, but on investigation I found an open loft which proved very possible after ejecting a few fowls.

The following day our march led us through a narrow valley bare of people and cultivation. Following this was a welcome change to steep climbs over grass-covered slopes broken by picturesque ravines. I tried to get a picture of a coolie, bearing a huge nine-foot-long coffin plank, whom we overtook on the trail. A handful of cash and cigarettes won his consent, but in spite of my men's efforts to calm his fears,

title: Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/134


text:
Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/135

 the poor fellow cringed and trembled so, as I got my camera into position, that I gave it up. I felt as I might feel if I kicked a dumb animal.

Our night's stop was at Pao-an-ying,—like so many other hamlets of this region, little more than a camp-village, and showing its origin in the termination "ying" or "jin," meaning regiment. My room at the inn looked out directly on the street, and there was neither quiet nor privacy to be had, so I went out for a walk, escorted by a soldier and a coolie. Discovering a secluded screened place in a graveyard, I fell asleep on the top of a tomb, and my men near by did the same; but presently I was awakened by Jack's barking, to find myself the centre of a crowd of some fifty men silently watching me, and down the hillside I saw others coming, so I gave it up and took a stroll through the town, inspecting the provision shops.

We were off the next morning in the dark. At first the road was wild and picturesque. The track was unusually good, and steep, well-constructed zigzags carried us up and down the hills. Later the valley opened, and we ascended gradually over beautiful slopes gay with rhododendron and iris. The clouds above the mountains were very fine, but presently rain came on, continuing off and on all day.

Late in the afternoon we came in sight of Haitang, a walled town perched picturesquely on the side of a

title: Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/135


text:
Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/136

 hill. A temple outside the wall looked attractive, and I should have visited it had it not been for the rain which now set in in good earnest. So, instead, I inspected the inn, which seemed unusually interesting. There was the ordinary entrance court roofed over, and behind that an inner court open to the sky and surrounded by galleried buildings. Off from this led a long, high passage into which opened a number of superior rooms. Mine was quite elaborately furnished with carved bedstead and chairs and tables, and best of all, it had a door opening directly on to the city wall, where I could step out and get a breath of fresh air free from observation.

Here I had my first experience of the "squeeze." On directing the interpreter to give the fu t'ou the coolies' pork money, I learned that on the previous occasion the man had kept an undue proportion of it. Apparently a certain squeeze was regarded as legitimate, but he had transgressed the accepted bounds. I hardly knew how to meet the difficulty. Of course I could have paid the coolies directly, but it was most desirable to maintain the fu t'ou's authority over them. Finally, in true Chinese fashion, the interpreter worked out a scheme by which the fu t'ou's "face" might be saved, and yet the coolies not be defrauded. Going out into the court where the men were lounging, he called loudly to the fu t'ou to come for the coolies' money, naming the sum I

title: Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/136


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hardy, Elizabeth


text:
Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/137

 to give, about one hundred cash to a man. In the face of this there was nothing for the fu t'ou to do but give to each his rightful share, which he did with a very sulky air. Afterwards I had a talk with the man, telling him that my idea of a good fu t'ou was one who kept the men up to their work, and at the same time did not bully or mulct them of their hard-earned money. Such a man would get a good reward at the end. My reputation for lavishness stood me here in great stead, for henceforth there was no difficulty on this score. I might be "squeezed," but at least my coolies were not. The fu t'ou, however, tried to get even with the man who told, by discharging him. Fortunately I learned of this, again through the interpreter, and put a stop to it. The idea of the squeeze seems to be ingrained in the Chinese. How difficult it is to eradicate was shown by the delight of a missionary at Chung-king over the low price for which his trusty Christian clerk had secured a boat for me. For once he felt sure no commission could have been taken.

During all this part of my trip I carried no coined silver, only rough lumps of bullion of varying size, converting them into cash as I needed. The rate of exchange varied from place to place, and I was sometimes warned to put off visiting the money-changers until the next town. Of course the visitor stands to lose anyway, and I am sure that in the course of a

title: Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/137


text: The New International Encyclopædia/Apocrypha


text:
Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/138

 long journey through China you would see your money vanish in the mere process of change, quite aside from the money you spent.

Rain fell all the next day, but it could not take from the charm of the road, which led much of the time along the bottom of a deep, narrow gorge, the steep sides clothed to the very top with tropical green flecked with splendid splashes of pink and white azaleas, while by the side of the path were masses of blue iris, and of small yellow and red flowers. We reached our night's resting-place, P'ing-i-p'u, early in the afternoon, and in spite of the rain I went for a walk. By dint of peremptory commands, reënforced by the rain, I shook off my military escort, who for the last few marches had dogged my steps at every turn, moving when I moved, stopping when I stopped. To be sure, they had been very thoughtful of my comfort, helping me in and out of my chair, gathering the new flowers which appeared each day, keeping up a brazier fire in my room when it was damp, but I was tired of being treated as either a suspect or a royal personage, and as we were now well beyond the limit of Lolo raids I demanded the freedom of being alone. I found quiet in an overgrown graveyard, with charming views down stream and up the near hillsides cultivated in tiny scallops to the very top, although the slopes were so steep that each plot was shored up with a strong stone wall to keep the

title: Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/138


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hardy, Francis


text:
Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/139

 crop of maize and buckwheat from slipping down into the river.

As we passed out of the village the next morning at six o'clock we heard the hum of the boys in the government school already at work. Apparently Young China was wasting no time. For perhaps twenty li we followed down a fine stream, the way rather dangerous from the rocks which now and then detached themselves from the steep overhanging hillsides. After a time an ascent of one thousand feet brought us in sight of the Ta Tu, which we reached some time after noon by a gradual descent of two thousand feet, through a narrow valley to Ta-shu-p'u. Fine clumps of bamboo and groups of palm now cheered our sight, and fruit of several sorts—cherries, pears, loquats—was becoming abundant. It was very refreshing, although scarcely of a fine quality, and usually gathered before it was ripe. The place looked quiet and attractive, but half a century ago the last scenes of the Taiping rebellion were enacted here, when the remnants of Shih Ta-k'ai's force were surrounded and slaughtered.

Later in the day I went for a stroll to inspect the shops, accompanied by my interpreter, and it was on this occasion that I met with the only instance of unfriendliness (that I recognized) in all my journeying in West China. At one shop I noticed an interesting bronze dragon. The interpreter, who had a rather

title: Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/139


text:
Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/140

 objectionable habit of fingering the wares, began examining it. Thereupon the merchant came forward and snatched it from his hands, and when we passed that way again on our return, he came out before his shop and waved us off vigorously with his flapping sleeves. The interpreter said that the man disliked foreigners, but admitted that he did not wish to have his things handled.

title: Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/140


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hardy, Thomas (1666-1732)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hardy, Thomas (1748-1798)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hardy, Thomas (1752-1832)


text: The New International Encyclopædia/Apocynaceæ


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hardy, Thomas Duffus


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hardy, Thomas Masterman


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hardy, William


text:
Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Parker, Alton Brooks

PARKER, Alton Brooks, jurist, b. in Cortland, N. Y., 14 May, 1851. He is the son of a farmer, and at the age of sixteen taught school with a view to educating himself without cost to his father. While teaching in Ulster county he studied law in a Kingston office, graduating bom the Albany law-school in 1872. Five years later he was elected surrogate of Ulster county, being re-elected for six years in 1883. He was a delegate to the Democratic national convention which nominated Gov. Cleveland for president, and aided in the election of David B. Hill as his successor. When Judge Westbrook of the supreme court died, in 1885, Gov. Hill appointed Parker his successor. His election followed the next, year, and in January, 1889, he was appointed to the court of appeals, being the youngest man who ever sat on that bench. He retained this office till the dissolution of the court in 1892. Then, at the request of other judges, he was appointed by Gov. Flower a member of the general term of the supreme court of the first department, and continued at work in New York city until the creation of the appellate division of the supreme court, when he resumed the duties of the trial terms in his own district. In 1897 Judge Parker was a member of the appellate division of the supreme court in New York city part of the year in consequence of the illness of Judge Barrett and in November of that same year he was elected chief judge of the court of appeals.


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hardyman, Lucius Ferdinand


text:
Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Parker, Horatio Gilbert

PARKER, Horatio Gilbert, Canadian novelist, b. in Addington, Ontario, 12 April, 1859. After being employed in teaching several years he was ordained deacon in 1882, and in the following year was graduated at Toronto university, which in June, 1898, gave him the degree of LL. D. Later he was a curate and held a position in the deaf and dumb institute of Belleville. In 1886 he went to Australia, where he was an associate editor of the “Sydney Evening Herald.” and where he wrote several plays. Removing to England, he entered upon a literary career, and has since spent a portion of his time in Canada and the United States, where, in 1895, he married an American. In the winter of 1897-8 Mr. Parker visited Egypt and the Holy Land. His principal works are “A Lover's Diary,” a volume of poems and sonnets (1890); “Pierre and his People” (1892); “The Translation of a Savage,” “Chief Factor,” and “The Trespasser” (1893); “The Trail of the Sword” and “Mrs. Falchion” (1894); “When Valmond came to Pontiac” (1895); “The Seats of the Mighty” and “Romany of the Snows” (1896); “Pomp of the Lavilettes ” (1897); “Battle of the Strong” and “The Adventures of the North” (1898); and “Hill of Pains” (1899).


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hardyng, John


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Hare, Augustus William


text:
Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography/Parker, Quanah

PARKER, Quanah, Comanche chief, b. in western Texas about 1840. His mother, a white woman, was captured by the Comanches from her people while but a child. She grew up in the tribe and married a Comanche warrior, but not long after the birth of Quanah she was found by her friends and taken back to civilization, where she died of a broken heart because she was not allowed to rejoin her husband and her son. The boy became chief of the tribe, which he ruled with wisdom and foresight, growing rich himself and bringing peace and prosperity to the tribe. Parker occupies a fine residence on a ranch, over which range many thousands of fine cattle and hundreds of well-bred horses. Four of the Comanche chief's children are students at the Carlisle (Pa.) Indian school.


text:
Page:Screenland October 1923.djvu/17

SCREENLAND Hundreds of Thousands of Dollars Are Annually Thrown Away in Pictures because of Ignorance, Vanity and Wilfulness.

By HELEN STARR

, the playwright, wrote a story with a motion picture angle. He offered it to a big film producer, who put a ridiculously low price on it.

"Originals, they are no goot," said the big producer. "But your name, it might sell it. How about fife hunderd dollars, nicht?"

"Nicht," said Halsey decidedly, and put his story on the shelf. A month later he wrote a play around the plot, and secured a brief Broadway run for it. But after that it faltered and died, as so many Broadway plays do, and the storehouse received it.

But an agent, who knew the psychological processes of big film producers, asked to be allowed to sell screen rights for the play. He named a figure he could get for it—twenty times what the first offer had been. Halsey laughed at him but told him to go ahead.

Within thirty days the agent came to Halsey and asked if he would accept a check for $20,000 for the screen rights to his story. The offer was from the same producer who had originally offered him $500. When Halsey came out of his delirium, he accepted on the spot.

The reason for the enormous increase? Simply that the scenario was no longer an "original"; it had had a stage showing. And although the publicity value as far as the country as a whole is concerned to the producer was worth about a thin dime, yet he was impressed by it to the tune of $20,000.

title: Page:Screenland October 1923.djvu/17


text:
Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/79

 a turf balk and enjoyed the quiet and clean air. Of course I was often found out and followed by the village-folk, but their curiosity was not very offensive. Generally they squatted down in a semi-circle about me, settling themselves deliberately to gaze their fill. If they came too near I laughed and waved them back, and they always complied good-naturedly. The little children were often really quite charming under the dirt, but until they had learned to wash their faces and wipe their noses I must confess I liked them best at a distance.

At noon we stopped at a handy inn or tea-house for tiffin and a long rest. I was ordinarily served at the back of the big eating-room open to the street in as dignified seclusion as my cook could achieve. Rice again, with perhaps stewed fowl or tinned beef, and a dessert of jam and biscuit, usually formed my luncheon, and dinner was like unto it, save that occasionally we succeeded in securing some onions or potatoes. The setting-forth of my table with clean cloth and changes of plates was of never-failing interest to the crowds that darkened the front of the eating-house, and excitement reached a climax when the coolie, whom my cook had installed as helper,—there is no Chinese too poor to lack some one to do his bidding,—served Jack his midday meal of rice in his own dish. Then men stood on tiptoe and children climbed on each other's shoulders to see a dog

title: Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/79


text:
Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/80

 fed like—the Chinese equivalent of Christian. They never seemed to begrudge him his food; on the contrary, they often smiled approvingly. We were thousands of miles away from the famine-stricken regions of eastern China, and through much of the country where I journeyed I saw almost no beggars or hungry-looking folk. In the afternoon we stopped as before at short intervals at some roadside tea-house, for the coolies generally expect to rest every hour.

Our day's stage usually ended in a good-sized town. I should have preferred it otherwise, for there is more quiet and freedom in the villages. But my coolies would have it so; they liked the stir and better fare of the towns, and the regular stages are arranged accordingly. Our entrance was noisy and imposing. My coming seemed always expected, for as by magic the narrow streets filled with staring crowds. Through them the soldiers fought a way for my chair, borne at smart pace by the coolies all shouting at the top of their voices. I tried to cultivate the superior impassiveness of the Chinese official, but generally the delighted shrieks of the children at the sight of Jack at my feet, and his gay yelps in response, "upset the apple cart." There was a rush to see the "foreign dog." I gripped him tighter and only breathed freely when with a sharp turn to right or left my chair was lifted high over a threshold and borne through the inn door into the courtyard,

title: Page:A Wayfarer in China.djvu/80