“That’s a very dangerous principle, sir; it leads necessarily to anarchy.”
“I have often heard it said, but I never believed it. In our town, for instance, we are all democrats, and yet I never knew a row there ever since I was born; while your nice people of New York run riot on the most trifling occasion.”
“That’s owing to the great number of foreigners we have among us; people who have been slaves at home, and on that account have the most extravagant notion of liberty.”[10]
“Why, ma’am, our town consists almost wholly of foreigners, and is as quiet as possible. I think that people who have been oppressed before, may be as much attached to liberty as those who, from its daily enjoyment, have grown indifferent towards it.”
“Why, what singular notions you have, Mr. ***!” exclaimed the lady; “I hope you are not an advocate of the rabble?”
“Certainly not; I represent the people of my township.”
“You do not understand me. When I speak of ‘the rabble,’ I mean those who have no interest whatever in maintaining our institutions,—foreign paupers and adventurers, and particularly the Irish. I have no objection to liberty in the abstract. I think all men, with the exception of our negroes, ought to be free; but I cannot bear the ridiculous notion of equality which seems to have taken hold of our people, and which, if it be not counteracted by persons who have the power to do so,” (here she bestowed a significant look upon the tribune), “must eventually prove the ruin of our country.”
“I have heard this before,” replied he, “and I saw it in print too; but I never believed a word of it. It’s all got up for party purposes; you may depend upon it, ma’am.”
“Ah, sir! but I see the truth of it every day of my life.”
“In what manner, pray?”