House of Wisdom in a Bustle.
By laws of learned Duellists,
They that are bruised with wood or fists,
And think one beating may for once
Suffice, are cowards and poltroons:
But if they dare engage t' a second,
They're stout and gallant fellows reckon'd.
On January 22, 1798 Griswold alluded to the story that Lyon, during the Revolutionary War, had been compelled to wear a wooden sword because of cowardice. Lyon made answer by spitting in his face. A motion was made to expel Griswold, but the committee appointed on the subject reported in favor of expelling Lyon: the house refused to do so. On the 15th of February, while Lyon was writing at his desk, Griswold came up and hit him over the head and shoulders with a club, (much as Brooks did Charles Sumner in 1856). Lyon managed to get hold of the tongs in use about the stove, and defending himself, they fought till separated. Sometime afterward they met in an anteroom, and Lyon struck Griswold with a stick. A friend gave Griswold a club, but they were again separated. No action was taken by the House.
In "The Key," of Fredericksburg, Va., (a publication of which only one copy is known to exist, appeared our second ballad, "The Battle of The Wooden Sword").
BOTH ancients and moderns have often proclaim'd,
Tho' truths may be censur'd, they cannot be blam'd;
Yet facts have existed, so vile and so fulsome,
That the air while reciting is really unwholesome.
At the truths, my dear friends, I mean to describe,
Astonish'd you'll be and almost petrified;
Each hair on your heads tho' ever so clotted,
Shall start in a moment, erect and unknotted,
Like those on the pate of poor captured De Winter,
Or Porcupine's quills when he shoots at a printer,
Or the Printers themselves, when they have no design
To meet on a sudden-their friend Porcupine.*
From these hints you'll acknowledge I have some regard For the feelings of those who might not be prepar'd;
I'll therefore proceed, if it is not unlawful,
To relate these events so important and awful.
The clock had just struck! the doors were extended,
The Priest to his pulpit had gravely ascended,
Devoutly he pray'd, for devoutly he shou'd,
Solicit for wicked as well as for good.
He pray'd for the Gentile, for Turk and for Jew,
And hop'd they'd shun folly and wisdom pursue,
For all absent members-as some have a notion
To dispense with his formal and pious devotion.
This duty perform'd, without hesitation,
He left to their wisdom the charge of the nation.
When the parson retir'd, some members sat musing,
Whilst others were letters and papers perusing;
Some apples were munching, some laughing and joking,
Some snuffing, some chewing; but none were a-smoking.
Some warming their faces-others back-f-s indulging,
Whilst they to their Colleagues were secrets divulging,
Of "great pith and moment," for doubtless a Burgess
Possesses the depth of the famous Lycurgus.
Each member seem'd wrapt in profound meditation,
Determin'd to act for the good of the nation:
Not an office was held-not e'n by Inferiors;
But shone in proportion—to their potent Superiors;
Nay the porters themselves, who kindled the fires,
Seem'd possess'd of some great, some lofty desires.
That this House is a focus, thro' which we may see,
Columbia's vast wisdom in the highest degree.
But wisdom is transient; I say it with sorrow,
To-day we are wise, and we're foolish to-morrow.
In the hearts of most men some malice lies lurking,
Like wort in a barrel continually working,
Till strength it obtains to compass its power,
Then bursts like a rocket, sometimes like a shower.
That this was the case of a sage Legislator,
Can amply be proved by ev'ry spectator:
He said that some Counties of which he made mention,
Were govern'd by men of an evil intention,
Whose hearts, to the people, were no ways congenial,
But made of materials corrupted and venal;
That they blinded their eyes with specious pretences,
And gave them strong opiates to smother their senses;
That the vitals of freedom, the members were sapping,
And filch'd themselves in while the voters were napping.
These facts were too serious to make any jest on,
For their papers contained but one side of the question,
If a printer he was, or e'en a typ'd devil,
He soon wou'd reform them, and work out the evil;
He'd purge all their minds, he'd vomit and bleed 'em,
And maintain like a Lyon, the spirit of freedom.
But should it not answer his great expectation,
He'd turn topsy turvey, their d-d Legislation.
This language was spoken by V-rm-t's old Coger,*
And answer'd with zeal by Connecticut Roger.**
"Sir," quoth young Roger, "I deny your assertions,
The remarks you have made are flagrant perversions,
I'm surpris'd that a man of your genius and letters
Should forge for the Yankees such shackles and fetters.
A doctrine like yours would never confound 'em;
I say they're as free as the air that surrounds 'em.
Not a mind cou'd you change, by no means you're able To alter, or shift, the groom of a stable,
Shou'd you venture to try, you'd sorely repent it,
*Matthew Lyon of Vermont. **Roger Griswold of Connecticut.
They're people that's stanch and wou'd warmly resent it.
You open their veins? you vomit and purge 'em?
Relinquish your project, for Godsake don't urge 'em.
They'd swinge your old carcase, and woundedly spank it,
Then toss you with glee, up and down in a blanket.
There you'd fume and you'd fret, at this new mode of jig-
ging,
And wish yourself back a' potatoes a-digging:
So take my advice, I repeat it with pleasure, Incur not their wrath, to inforce such a measure." "Your advice" answers Coger "is not worth a thank ye, I'm not to be frighten'd by any such Yankee,
I tell ye, young man, don't you be in a passion, I'd fight 'em all round in their own country fashion.” "You're mistaken," said Roger-"they'd soon make you reel,
They have no wooden swords; but swords made of steel,
For I've often been told, nay frequently heard,
You wear with reg'mentals, a broad wooden sword;
So great is your valour, no neighbour or brother
Cou'd pass by your door, if you wore any other.”
These rubs were not noticed, or Coger was heedless, And thought to disprove 'em was certainly needless; He therefore proceeded, and seem'd in his glory, Till at last the young member repeated the story, With these odd remarks, which you all may rely on, Tho' the blade was of Wood, the hilt was of Iron, And the wearer thereof, as valiant as Nero From the sole of his foot to the tip of his ear, O: This fill'd the old Vet'ran with great indignation, Some thought he wou'd burst with spleen and vexation, He turn'd up his eyes, his visage look'd horrid, Sometimes it was pale, sometimes it was florid,
He look'd all convuls'd, and inwardly mutter'd
Some curses no doubt, but a word never utter'd,
Kept working his jaws as if he was chewing,
Which plainly denoted a something was brewing;
Stand aloof if you're wise, his senses are roaming,
My God! how he stares! how his mouth is a-foaming!
He advances, behold! without saying the least word,
And spits in the face of his foe from the eastward! ! !
Resent this Columbia, resent it with spirit,
Lest the scorn of the world you deservedly merit;
Shall the Guardians of States, the National Quorum,
Connive at such conduct, such vile indecorum?
If laws are enacted, beware of infraction,
Support them like men, to Roman exaction.
If the minds of some members are so irritated,
Expel them the house, let their seats be vacated,
There are others no doubt might fill up their station,
Tho' not quite so wise, nor of such information,
A man of mere silence is much more sagacious
Than one of conceit, who is rude and loquacious.
These hints I submit to your wisdom superior,
No doubt that your honours can see somewhat clearer.
But now to return to the member insulted,
And relate th' effects which really resulted;
He bore it with firmness, and his reason maintain'd,
Which was greater than those who have victories gain'd,
For a moment we grant his temper was nettled,
But regaining himself his mind became settled,
Recollecting no doubt a story of old,
Which here I'll describe, or attempt to unfold.
"A Philosopher's Wife,* a d-n-ble Shrew, *Xantippe the scolding wife of Socrates.
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