Timothy Templeton - The Adventures of My Cousin Smooth

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"'Ye better believe that!' returns Mr. Patrick, with an exultation of
happiness; and concluding with: 'I'd kill every nager in the land, be
the pipers I would! an' it's the boys from old Ireland what does be
keeping the bright face on pure Hamirikan principles. Sure an' warn't
it the brave boys that halicted Gineral Pierce and his cumrades?' Here
Mr. Patrick again paused, and with a wise look, shook his head. 'We
put the broad staunch face on the democracy,' again he interjaculated
with a mutter. Indeed, Mr. Patrick the reader will easily detect, had
the crude idea of right in his head; but, unfortunately, he could only
get it out in these simple and sideling insinuations. The negro, whom
we have before described as being knocked down, picked himself up and
had nothing to say.

"'There may be much in what you say, friend Patrick,' said I: 'The
boys from Donegal do with the elective franchise much that
_native-Homers_ in their carelessness leave undone. Mr. Patrick
acknowledged this, shook his head, and said the fact, though
deplorable, was preeminently established.

"'Like every one who visits Washington these times, yer a friend of
the Gineral's, and have fit with him in the Mexican war?' again he
inquired, seeming to anticipate my answer. Of the Mexicans I know
little--of the war less: it were well our country made peace its
friend, war its enemy. As to the General and his fighting in Mexico,
that was a matter that best affected himself; through it he became a
great potentate, but not so great a man; but, I accept the general
idea that he is now become troubled of a short memory. During this
time I had not forgotten number one--my supper! Having stowed it well
away under my lining, I felt very much like a man who had just turned
away his back on Secretary Marcy, having through personal friendship
received the country's best collectorship. Seeing the point of
good-nature to which my feelings had arrived through the strong
argument of meats, Mr. Patrick proffered his services to navigate me
out of the place where he ate his people--through entries, corridors,
passages, halls, and down stairways, along which we were ever
encountering persons who, like Mr. Pierce, were groping their way in
the dark. In the course of time, and after much feeling and fumbling,
I again encountered the light of the mahogany counter, behind which
stood the same individual I have before described--his person so
formidable, his face so full and fat, his hair so sleek and smooth.

"'Had a good supper, Squire Smooth?' says he, a broad smile spreading
over his broader face. On answering in the affirmative, he introduced
me to numerous unsatisfied politicians. One of this very numerous
gentry, and of whom I had, unfortunately, occasion to know more at a
subsequent period, (he was a man of grief from South Carolina), swore,
by his knowledge of southern rights and secession, that his State, so
neglected, would certainly go out of the Union. She had not a minister
abroad--only Consul General at Alexandria, which was said by the
knowing ones to be somewhere in Egypt; and where, to prove his strong
faith in southern principles, and his independent indifference to the
feelings of thin-skin northerners, he had purchased two very handsome
Nubian slaves of the feminine gender. This was merely to illustrate
the truly American spirit of our institutions: perchance it might
arouse from his stupor the Viceroy, who not fully cognizant of the
height of civilization to which America had arrived, was making
singular, and to me very praiseworthy efforts, to free his people from
the curse of enslaving men. To our patriotic Consul General we say--go
it!--a few more such examples will give the Egyptian an impression of
our liberty and christian love most strange: the brilliant light of
our western star will, I fear, have much in it to remind him of those
darker days when his forefathers built pyramids.

"'Come to see the Gineral, I s'pose, stranger?' our Carolinian
inquired, with a suspicious look, touching a companion beside him on
the arm. To his inquiry I returned--nothing shorter! 'Cape Cod,' he
followed with a respectful bow, 'did noble work for the true
democracy; she is great in sands, shoals, and cod-fish; she will send
General Pierce a chowder, as emblematic of his foreign policy--' Here
I interrupted by assuring him that Cape Cod could stand anything to
the stomach digestible; But whether she could digest the General was a
doubtful question. Cape Cod, be it known over the broad acres of this
land, I added, has a spirit above living on government: she turned
disdainfully from the means that were fast turning the functions of
government into a machine for grinding out patronage--she never
sacrificed Uncle Sam for the sake of what is in his tin-trunk. At
this, which he was pleased to call an expletive, he begun to summon
his dignity: at once he stiffened in a manner that proved how much
superior to me he considered himself, and how much more of Uncle Sam's
shiners were necessary to his conceived maintenance. 'Cape Cod is the
place,' says he folding his arms, moving to a more piquant position,
giving his person a little more importance, and making a target of the
brightly polished stove, against which he permitted a well-directed
stream of dark fluid to explode ere he wiped his lips.--'Cape Cod is
the place from whence all persons come who profess to be born free and
equal; but they are a scrubby set--' Considering it a duty I owed to
the nation, I again interrupted him. 'Cape Cod,' replied I, 'has got
gumption, principle, and the spirit of a go-ahead in her: she
germinated the Young American party. Understand, citizen, (here I
found spunk was necessary), a cape-coaster can at any time boast a
full fair of fish; if he draw them from Mr. John Bull's waters, so
much the better. He is no stranger to Mr. John Bull, whom he esteems
rather a dogged fellow, pugnaciously inclined at times, but never so
bad as he seems; and though stubbornly behind the age of progress, nor
willing to believe in the principles of manifest destiny, often
improves upon acquaintance.'

"'Good night, Mr. Smooth,' said he hurriedly; 'when you tie up for the
night--remember me--! Hope to see you bright in the morning.' Off,
like the handle of a jug, he went. And now it being time to stow
myself away, I hailed for a pilot to navigate me safe into the seventh
story. My fat friend at the counter, whose eyes were becoming leaden,
rung again the bell, and out scampered some dozen darkies from nobody
could discern where. I looked at the negroes with an expression of
excitement, and then, somewhat alarmed:--'Stranger,' says I, 'these
'ere niggers a'int all going to put me through, be they?' He said he
reckoned one would do; and to a question as to what time I would
complete the journey to bed, he replied that seeing I was of the Young
American stripe, and that the distinguished of that party could do
almost anything, provided I started soon I would reach the destination
about midnight. 'Now, providing it's any accommodation, Mr. Smooth, we
can send you to bed by steam. Say the word and up you'll go!' he
rapidly concluded, rapping with his fingers on the big book he had so
leisurely laid aside for the night, there being no chance of another
customer being caught this side of twelve o'clock. I shook my head and
moved off, telling him I did not appreciate being busted up. 'Ain't a
mite of danger!' says he: 'why, stranger, we havn't killed more nor
two dozen this year or more.' That Young America was a go-ahead I was
fully conscious; still, being somewhat anxious to extend a little
friendly advice to Gineral Pierce, I begged to be excused from all
dangers, Young America must live to proclaim the manifest destiny of a
universal republic. You may lay aside your steam fixings until a more
expedient time to use them--'Here he interrupted by saying my walking
up would only save six cents;--' can put Mr. Smooth into the machine
and send him up in a jiffy. Further, we have got some dozen old gents
here who go to bed by steam every night!' I shook hands with the
fellow, exchanged glances, bid them good night all round, and trotted
off, following the darky, who wound his way round corridors, up
stairs, and through passages for more than an hour, (at least, I
thought it was!), until I fancied we had got lost in an interminable
labyrinth of narrow passages. It was just after inauguration, which
fact was duly made known through the medium of sundry corks of
champagne bottles, which were sounding pop! pop!! pop!!! Again merry
voices were heard announcing the misfortunes of those about to pass
out: while another whose voice seemed somewhat mellow, said he had in
his eye the office he wanted--exactly. A third voice, as if echoed
through a subterranean vault, said they must all be forbearing--the
General was so undecided in his opinions. Pretty soon, the negro,
having wound his way high up in the world, turned a corner, gave a
tremendous guffaw, and opened the door of a place that looked very
much like a closet in which to stow away lean lawyers. 'Now, Cuff! ye
ain't goin to stow this citizen away in that ar place, be ye?' says I.

"'Mas'r,' returns he, ''tis just the snuggest place ye ever did see;
why! tain't da length on ye, seem how mas'r can double himself up
anyhow,--just as Gineral Pierce do.' The darkey laughed and drew back
with a bow, as I began to philosophise that, being now so well up in
the world, it was the best policy to coil up and invoke
Morpheus,--which I did, bidding good-night to all below, and promising
myself a pleasant interview with General Pierce on the following
morning.

CHAPTER III.

IN WHICH MR. SMOOTH HAS AN INTERVIEW WITH GENERAL CASS.

"Smooth had just stowed himself away in the shape of a figure 4, when
there came a voice as husky as Uncle Zack Peabody's conk, (which said
conk had been used to blow his way through the fogs of Newfoundland
for nearly half a century), saying:--'It's mighty tight squeezing
there, ain't it, stranger?' Where the voice came from seemed a puzzle
for all creation. No room was there in the place for another soul--all
became as still and watchlike as the tomb. In fear and anxiety I gazed
upon the dark wall, and along it to the little window facing the
avenue; and there, behold! but tell it not in the Capitol, was the
broad, burly face of General Cass, like a wet moon in discontent.
Unhappy with himself, he was peering in at the window. Again he
muttered:--'I can't get in!--such has always been my fate.' The
much-disappointed old gentleman bore such an expression of
discomfiture on his countenance, that Smooth was forced to the
conclusion that to be sociable would only be doing a good turn--more
especially as the General and Uncle Sam never got along well together.
'Then it's you, General?' says I: 'well, don't be in a hurry!' After a
short silence, he inquired if I could accommodate a traveller who had
been long on the road, and short of shot. I said I was not well to do
for room; but as to be obliging was the order of the day, and seeing
that he was soon to try another turn by joining the 'Young American'
party, I would see what could be done. He had got upon the roof of the
institution,--just where he could slip backward with great ease,
though it took some effort to go forward. Being somewhat infirm of
age, I took him gently by the hand and assisted him in, where I
thought he might, if he pleased, stand upon a square platform. The
General was very polite, bore strongly in his demeanor the marks of
time and honor; I could not suppress the capricious thought--that it
was time a sly corner in the patent office were provided for political
relics of a past age, and he safely stowed away in it. All things of a
by-gone age should have their place; notwithstanding, knowing that
Uncle Sam and him had tried to be intimate friends, and that he had
many warm and substantial voters in the far West, I felt to be less
than condescending would be bad political policy. He took a seat, and
began to get up his good-nature, as I inquired what earthly mission he
could be prosecuting on so dark and cold a night.

"'Well, now, friend Smooth,' he says: 'I like you, but the question
you put so honestly has a point which you cannot see, though I can
painfully feel. However, as I have no secrets, I don't mind telling
you: it must be private, nevertheless--I am sensitive not to have
these matters spread all over the Union. To-night, you see, a conclave
of political wranglers met below, in this house. Conscious that they
would have a large '_grin_' at me, discussing the means by which I
have always been the rejected of this great and growing people, I came
that my ears might lesson of fools. To this end, I mounted the
chimney, and was reconoitering down the black abyss, when my eye
turned and caught your light, like a star in tribulation, twinkling
from the window. Strange kind of a tribune for a senator, I admit, but
I heard many judgments, and from them may draw many more. One
reckoned I had stamped with the cold hand of death my political life;
always wanting to fight somebody--the English in particular! Another
said Virginia and Pennsylvania couldn't approve of my policy--that it
was too slow; while New York dare not vote for me, and I was New
England's dread. A third said he didn't believe the middle West would
back me up, because a doubt existed as to whether other States
would. These sentiments I heard from down chimney. My solemn belief
is, that I have been sacrificed to a firm and honest belief in the
Monroe doctrine; which, singularly enough, had its origin in English
minds. My efforts to carry it into effect seemed not to form a
tangible objection; though a voice now and then said it might lead to
evil consequences, England and France having formed a very unnatural
alliance to put down the aggressive spirit of nations, without respect
to the side of the Atlantic on which they were domiciled. Then, by way
of a suspending clause, they said it was not so much my pugnacious
propensities they feared, as that, being an old _fogy_, full of
personal grievances against somebody, I would make the gratifying a
venerable spleen paramount to the interests of States (all this I
heard from down chimney). That I was not a bad man, nor an inflexible
man, they all agreed; but that my time was passed was their verdict,
and being passed, I would myself soon pass into political
oblivion--nothing being left but executive expectations and
ballet-boxes, with which I might build on high a monument! The trouble
is, friend Smooth, I am not possessed of the tact of making the nation
understand me; had I this all-necessary to political fame, the Chief
Magistracy had long since been mine. To me the free press of our
country is a sort of infernal machine,--its effect in my case
strengthens the idea. Having held me up as dangerous, when in truth I
am a peaceably disposed man, they have wronged me while misinforming
the public.' Here he paused, as his face assumed its wonted
seriousness, and that wart, now historical, looked brighter than
ever. I had long been desirous of scraping acquaintance with the old
man, whom I esteemed much better inside than out, so I offered him
half of my shingle, at the same time intimating that we would have
some whiskey. At this he lowered his voice, and continued with a slow
shake of the head:--'I'm not so bad as I seem. Peradventure I wanted a
small chance at the Britishers. I hate them, but that only signifies a
trifle. Mr. Pierce, like a horn lantern for which Uncle Caleb and Jeff
furnish the light, is fast getting affairs into a fuzzle; this must be
so while the light is thus furnished, and the regulation of its
burning be left to Grandpapa Marcy. Fact is, you see, Mr. Smooth, the
administration is become like a steam-engine, Mr. Pierce being used as
a piston by Caleb, Jeff, and Co., who, in addition, furnish
Southern-rights for fuel, use patronage as a condenser, and make a
safety valve of Papa Marcy. But Papa has yet to take many lessons in
National Engineering before his control over the machine is complete.'
I watched the old man's anxious eye as he spoke; and again suggested
the taking a little whiskey: I pitied him. 'It will set ye all right!'
says I, 'it'll take the fogyism all out, warm up yer inards, and make
yer ideas come out with the philosophy of a _Mara beau_. Mr. Pierce
loves to traffic in the language of war, but like all little
creatures, makes his noise and stops.'

"'Well, in obedience to my friendship for you, Smooth--and with the
knowledge that you are going into business with Uncle
Sam--appreciating the 'Young American' party as I do, I don't care if
I take. It may revive the hope of 1856. After all, there is something
in you New Englanders I like--give us yer hand,' he replied suddenly,
as a soft smile spread over his hard face. He commenced wiping his
lips, and was so polite. I rang the bell, and up came the negro, his
face as full of alarm as a frightened moon in a hail-storm. Alarmed at
his appearance, the General sprang to his feet, and was for bolting
through the window. 'Don't be scared, General!' says I, trying to
suppress a laugh; 'put on the pluck of Young America--niggers then
will seem as nothing.' Mr. Pierce pursues this course. General knows
it takes somebody to cut a figure in the world; and seeing that these
United States constitute a free country, what violation of principle
is there in doing with negroes what you please? The steaming punch now
awaited us; I filled the General's glass, and he said 'this was a
great country, which would soon send Young America out on the world to
proclaim manifest destiny.' I said amen, and the punch disappeared
into his depot, as he concluded. It was clear his inards warmed, he
beginning to brighten up soon after. With a laconic air, he touched me
on the elbow, and said, 'Somehow, it seems to touch the right place--I
declare it does! I am half inclined to the belief that General Pierce
sups formidably of this just before he talks about winding things up
in a straight sort of way, all of which he ultimately forgets: the
influence of this sort of steam was undoubtedly that which selected
Minister Solan Borland the man for Central America. It was not that
friend Solan went to settle perplexing questions with that dwarf
combination of helpless governments; it was enough that he amused
sundry citizens and much annoyed others with the little fracases
which, through the power of political steam, he was wont to indulge
in.'

"'Now, Uncle Cass!' said I, interrupting him, at the same time adding
a good-natured wink, 'you must excuse Smooth's seeming intrusiveness;
but, what do you think of annexation in general, and filibustering and
taking Cuba in particular?' At this, the General gave a knowing pause,
scratched his head as if it was troubled with something, and then
replied with much dryness: 'Ah! the one is a subject popular to-day,
the other is fast becoming so: when both are equally popular, we may
advocate them with safety. Mr. Pierce understands this policy. That
which is popular and holds out advantages must go down in our go-ahead
country. According to the axiom of our Southern doctrines we must have
Cuba: she must be wedded in political bonds to Cape Florida; not for
the purpose of consolidating niggerdom, but merely to complete in that
direction the point of manifest destiny.'

"'Lord love yer political faith, General!' said I, rising up and
taking him firmly by the hand.

"'Ye'll do for the Young America, that ye will! There'll be no more
old-fogyism--no more of the slow-coach school! Take another bumper,
and you'll be ripe for the new party.' The General, with less dignity
than you might have supposed him capable of condescending to, filled
his glass, drew his chair back, threw his square figure well over the
arms, and roared right out until it became dangerous. At length he
began to drink his whiskey, and that stopped his joy for a time. But
he soon broke out afresh. 'What on earth is the matter with you,
stranger? you ain't going to make a shaking machine of your broad
sides, be ye?' says I, giving him a look that would have pierced a
stone wall.

"'You must excuse me, Mr. Smooth, but the principles of your party
would make anybody laugh; why!--its sprouting members are all growing
out of their breeches. Where, in that stretchy imagination the party
possesses, can you find a place for the moon, which of necessity must
follow in the train of annexation?' he inquires seriously.

"'Put it? Why, Gineral, you have been stowed away so long, keeping
dog-watch over fogyism, that you don't comprehend how Uncle Sam has
been transformed into a go-ahead chap to suit the times. Consul
Saunders 'll bridge the Gulf Stream, and thus unite Cuba and Cape
Florida; and, his pockets well lined with letter-writing materials, be
first to march over it and proclaim manifest destiny to the
natives. As for the moon, George will find a place in the compact for
her.'

"'But, Mr. Smooth,' says he, 'what in the name of changes be you going
to do with so many little kingdoms? A thousand years will scarcely
people our present domain! Now, Smooth, I'll cut out a small job for
the Young American party:--let them, just to give a specimen of their
principles, step across to Europe and help Louis and Uncle John (I
hate John, though) whip Nicholas, and turn vacillating, faithless
Austria into a republic, with principle and spirit equal to her
position as a nation.' The General looked serious as he concluded--so
far as whipping Austria was concerned we would be only too glad did
she for once throw off her cowardice and afford us an opportunity. She
had long played at thimblerig with doty old Mr. John Bull, before
whose eyes she had placed the spectacles of fantasy, the changes of
which the poor old gentleman's very refined sense and undeniable
diplomacy had not permitted him to comprehend. Austria was like the
thief who set himself up as umpire to settle between two knaves of his
own cloth, and, while he gave advice to both, was securing to himself
the very plunder which gave rise to the dispute. Nicholas, John Bull
said, was a ruffian of the go-ahead school; but, of the three
ruffians, which shall we choose? history may be the teacher! Ruffians,
however, may do good at times, in which sense Nicholas was entitled to
more consideration than Mister Bull, in his frenzy, was willing to
accord. Thus saying, the General and me took another glass, shook
hands, and bowed most politely. Again I stretched myself down for the
night, as he (promising to call again and have another talk)
disappeared out of the window.

CHAPTER IV.

MR. SMOOTH'S DREAM.

"Leaving Cass holding on at the slippery roof. I dreamed that the
ghost of Benton, in contemplation bestrode the summit of the Rocky
Mountains; that 'Young America,' like a Colossus with monster limbs
stretched across a world, was endeavouring to wake from their stupor
the nations. With a voice like unto lazy thunder murmuring in the
distance was he proclaiming his hatred of kings, into whose dominions
he threatened to march great armies, and whom he described as curses
sent upon the earth by the evil one: for the _Evil One_ sought to
promote self, a means to which he found in those intrigues by which he
made strong his court--the same was the trade of kings. Again the
voice thundered forth--'Here are the instruments that have destroyed a
world of human beings, and for a selfish purpose gloated over the
blood they had made run in torrents.' I looked, and behold! appeared
there before me a terrible devil, of hideous form having two great
horns, on one of the long sharp points of which was poised a king, on
the other a fat bishop in his lawn. The two perpetual mischief-makers,
and desolators thus poised, he came with a hideous roar, threatening
to drown them in the river of unrefined common sense. And then there
was written in broad letters of fire across the shoulders of this
sturdy devil--'Kingcraft and Churchcraft have cursed the nations of
the earth, and turned to blight the blessings of the True God!' Again
this significant edict vanished, and in its place there came, as in
letters of gold, 'Cheap Government and no Established Church--let the
nations be ruled in wisdom and right!' This had reference to good old
England, not America, for here bishops are known to be meek and good.
All this was a dream: but then there came, soaring giant-like, 'Young
America,' and manifest destiny which he spread over the land for the
benefit of mankind. Then there came a great darkness, followed by a
little light that crept feebly onward as if fearing to spread itself
on the broad disc of the horoscope--it was the light of Mr. Pierce,
beneath which hovered doubtful devils. How rapacious they seemed! They
saw the doubts and fears of his little light, and would fain carry him
off into purgatory ere it died out. But his saviours came: they were
the ghosts of those great lights that founded the pillars of our
Republicanism. Down they sat, in ghostly conclave, and with
instruments in hand set about driving away the carrier devils and
working the problem of Mr. Pierce's political policy. It was
impossible!--not all the trigonometry of which they were masters
sufficed to aid them in the task. It seemed like attempting to solve
the principle of that which never had one. He stood on a platform of
sections, each of which turned at a touch, and seemed giving way for
want of strength. Indeed, as beheld in the dream, he could play the
game of uncertainty through a dozen focuses. The jury of ghosts
became sorely perplexed; then they began to put to him some very
honest questions, as to what his intentions really were. And while
doing this the spirit of Washington, arrayed in glory, looked down
upon its feeble successor, and with an ironical smile shook its head.

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