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Timothy Templeton - The Adventures of My Cousin Smooth

T >> Timothy Templeton >> The Adventures of My Cousin Smooth




"Then there came an unaccented voice from the little light--the light
said to be the impersonation of Pierce; indeed, it was of kindred with
the shadow in that singular romance by Hawthorn, called the life of
Pierce! And the voice said:--'I shall be known by my practice.' Just
then the little light became dimmer, and turned away toward a long
dark avenue, where the vista seemed studded with the faces of
disconsolate 'niggers.' At this the ghost of Webster yawned, and that
of Calhoun scowled fiercely and contemptuously; while Clay's rubbed
its eyes and wept tears of pity. Again all was darkness. Then there
came again the little light of which I have spoken;--it was the light
of Mr. Pierce. It flickered and fluttered, and thus we identified
it. 'We have to deal with Europe--with that happy alliance my very
amiable Lord Clarendon says is for purposes not alone in Europe. My
lord's language, however, is so cleverly diplomatic--that is, it can
be made to mean anything or nothing,--as to need a translation. My
lord means, that when it has served to curb the national ambition of
certain nations of Europe it may be turned to the same purpose in
another but more congenial hemisphere. Kossuth wants material
aid--such as saddles, tin, &c. &c. I would give it him, if he would
teach Austria a lesson of honesty! Nevertheless, as to Louis himself I
would be extremely cautious, for being more a blower than a moulder,
and having a peculiar talent for getting affairs very crooked, the
instrument in the man is of questionable ability;--indeed, in a crisis
between nations, such an instrument should he examined with great
skill and delicacy before being set in motion.' He spoke after this
manner, and quick as thought the spectacle vanished--it was but a
dream? Not a ghost was seen; no lurid face cast its pale shadow over
the dark canvas; the pure spirit of Washington had departed in
hopeless despair. I was about to read a prayer, when the dark canvas
moved aside, and there, real as life, sat on a slave's grave the
immaculate Brigadier;--he, reader, was sipping whiskey toddy, as if it
were his wont. Old Bunkum was the slave whose grave he sat upon. It
was a strange penance over the mound of one so old; and yet who in the
political world that had not paid it? 'Why!--Bunkum, you are
barefoot;' a voice spoke.

"'Remember, old man, you must keep on the stiff,--it's as necessary to
success as it was to believe the old Constitution frigate could whip
anything afloat.' It was the General who spoke to the ghost of Bunkum,
who, having risen from the grave, stood before him, moody and
despairing. In ecstasy he grasped the hand of the cold figure cried
out that his soul's love was with him. But in his exuberance he let
the whiskey run over the green grave, into which the ghost soon
disappeared and left him alone to his contemplations. Bunkum, like
Billy Bowlegs, who has too much sense for the great father, says he
has wandered through all weathers, and endured all kinds of political
farcery: now that he had become old, and served as long as the god of
sacrifice, would they not let him rest in peace? Here the General
seemed alone and forlorn: then he wept bitterly, until the ghost of
Bunkum in pity again appeared and with him sat upon the grave. The
General kindly took him by the hand, and in his ear whispered
something, the only part of which became audible was--'When as
President of this great country I became, I was bound--' Here the man
paused. A kindlier feeling now came over Bunkum, in evidence of which
he motioned as if he would take another drop of whiskey with the
President, or ask a favor he was delicate about broaching. For a man
who had so long looked upon things beneath him his reserve was to be
appreciated, especially when viewed in comparison with the
expectations of those many numerous friends, all of whom expected
foreign missions. Having chatted and sipped together a sufficient
length of time, and as Bunkum was about to say _good by_, he turned
with a half significant smile, and touching the General on the elbow,
said:--'Ye ain't got a spare hat and pea-jacket to lend a body?'

"'Bless you, Bunkum, you are of the South!--anything you want is at
your bidding. New England (she's a trump!) can take care of herself;
let the storm threaten as it may, she never trips. We must do for
Kentuck and Carolina:--the black pig must have his swill if the rest
find an empty trough.' 'Thank you! thank you! General; our States
will stand firm to you--Bunkum himself never will forsake you;' spoke
thus thankfully the ghost of the old man as it took leave of the old
General and disappeared. Here I awoke from my dream to painful
reflections.




CHAPTER V.

A MORNING ADVENTURE.


"As Uncle Sam is equally careless of his language and cash, he will
excuse a crooked beginning and accept a straight ending. Contemplating
my crooked dream I confess I waked up without a straight idea in my
head. The fact was, I was waked up with such an incomprehensible
jingling, ringing, rumbling, and gonging, that I mistook its purport,
and thought the Russians were bombarding the house. I was about
looking out of the window to see if the White House was all safe, when
a negro with a countenance blacker than vengeance protruded his fizzy
head into the door, and without a morsel of knocking commenced
grinning. 'Anything wanted for Major Smooth?' inquires he; and
without waiting for an answer, catches up the bed, Smooth and all the
fixins, and set them somewhat aside. 'Not so fast, Cuff!' said I;
'Smooth is no Major--plain Mister Smooth from the Cape.'

"'Lor, Mas'r' replied the negro, interrupting me; 'when in Washington
t'wont do to be a mite less than a Major-General. Every man what come
to dis city widout his title better come widout himself. Our clerk
what stand at the hogany counter be a General,--Jones, the ostler, be
a Colonel; and Wilkes what keep the oyster shop ober yonder be a
Major! As for Captains, they are as thick and of as little use as
blackbirds. Will you take somethin?' The sagacious negro bowed, and
waited for a reply. I told him that being invited to a fish breakfast
with the General at the 'White House,' I would forbear to liquor until
I had made my bow.

"'S'pose you'll take the customary gin cock-tail, Mr. Smooth?' the
negro rejoined, with an anxious air. Evincing my surprise at such a
proposition, I assured him I did not know its meaning. 'Don't know
what it is!' he exclaimed, with a deep sigh. 'A very fashionable
drink,' he continued; 'gemmen what see de General, and study national
affairs, all take some on em in da mornin.'

"'Now, Cuff,' I rejoined, 'just tell the truth; you mean that in order
to keep the dignity up, it is necessary to take something stiff in the
mornin?'

"'Dat him, mas'r,' says he in reply, accompanying it with a broad
guffaw. 'When mas'r bin to de White House, and seem serious, as if he
ain't got what he want, he put a cock-tail down to make de glorious
come up; it be a great anecdote for what mas'r call de blues.' The
interpretation of what the negro said was that it made a man feel as
if he had the best office in Mr. Pierce's gift safe in his
pocket. Having a reasonable appreciation of a negro's statement, I
consented on the ground of its good qualities--thus represented--to
take a little. The negro left, but soon returned with it in his
hand--all bittered and iced. Down it went, plump!--it cut away the
cobwebs, made my inards fizzle, and the whole frame feel as lively as
a bee-hive. The negro said it was good--and I said I reckoned. And
then I 'turned out,' as they call it, broadside on. 'Great kingdom,'
exclaimed the negro, giving me a slanting look from head to foot;
'why, mas'r, dey must a growed ye in a guano country.'

"'Cuff! don't be sassy,' I replied. And then he very good-naturedly
commenced arranging my homespun. He fussed over me as if I were a mere
substance to be transformed into anything Mr. Pierce might
require. Then, to my utter astonishment, he apprised me of the fact of
General Cass having carried off my boots and breeches--adding that it
was a sort of mania with him, and for which he was not morally
accountable. Then the negro began quizzing my person. One of my legs,
he said, was hard shell, the other a soft shell; however, to reconcile
the matter, he further added that the embodiment was exactly suited to
Mr. Pierce's principles, inasmuch as he could go between--which he
always aimed to do. He then said I must have pantaloons of the right
stripe; because in Washington a man must look genteel, and have his
understandings straight. It was no excuse that the General himself was
an undecided Democrat; if he was round in some things, he was square
in others,--that is he was round in policy, and square in periods. The
Negro said he did not look so much at the cut of the pantaloons as the
quality of the cloth, and its tenacity for stretching--according to
the expectations of the 'Young American' party.

"Upon this assurance, I ordered him to repair to the tailor's, which
he did, and was not long in returning and bringing with him a pair of
fashionables suited to the times. 'Great country,' said he, holding
them before me and shaking his black sides with laughter. Into them I
slid myself; the bottoms only reached a little below my knees. The
negro, with eyes like astonished stars, set upon the straps, and such
a tugging and pulling as there allowed! I began to think I was being
pulled in two, (after the fashion of Mister Pierce's promises and
performances), when Cato, (such was the negro's name), his face almost
white with exertion, begged I would not be alarmed--that he would very
soon get them all right! In another minute something went--pop!
Simultaneously with the report was my head driven clean through the
pine-board ceiling into a chamber unfortunately occupied by a lean old
maid of some forty-seven summers. 'Good mornin, missus,' I said,
trying to make a bow; 'hope I ain't intruding.' The old lady looked
mighty streaked, and wouldn't be pacified, until I told her I was
merely giving a few feats, just to illustrate the principles of the
'Young American' party. It's only Young America, ma'am, he's cutting
the three figures of his sentiments, as made known by his particular
stars,--Soule, Saunders, and Sickles. Didn't intend to disturb you, my
good woman,' says I. I wanted to seem polite--to put the very best
foot forward; but it was to no earthly use. The old critter screamed,
jumped out of the bed, and like a ghost shaking his cotton to the
storm, ran away in dismay.

"'Good Christopher Columbus!' exclaimed the negro, almost bursting
with fright. With this he commenced pulling and jerking at my legs,
until, finding his efforts useless, he hastened down stairs and spread
the alarm. Major Smooth was in an alarming situation!--'most
dying!--would breathe his last!--warn't no help fo'h him!--must die,
sartin!! Such a ringing and dinging of bells, such a tampering up
stairs, such a puffing and blowing of excited citizens as followed,
never was heard or seen before. Although in a tight place, I was
neither alarmed nor crest fallen. Indeed, I thought I'd enjoin the old
lady on the other side to enter upon the discussion of a political
question, just by way of keeping up the characteristic sociability of
the nation. Presently about a dozen dangerously excited faces
presented themselves in the room. 'He's gone, certain,' says one;
'Major Smooth's a cold chicken,' mutters another; 'Young America's
cutting a figure,' rejoins a third; 'he's only at rest while
performing some overt act,' interposes a fourth. 'Much you know about
it!' says I, cool as Labrador: 'I merely put my head through this ere
place for the purpose of being friendly with this lone female
lodger--pull me out!' In right good earnest they seized me by the
boots, saying:--'Let us bring Young America into a respectable
position;' and with the most unmerciful jerks they laid me measuring
the floor. In no wise disconcerted, I picked myself up, and inquired
if they had another strap to loan me. With the exception of Cato, the
negro, they all enjoyed a good laugh; he had no sooner relieved me,
than he commenced raising a fuss about my damaging the ceiling--never
for once taking Mr. Smooth's head into consideration. Young America,
he said, was always too fast--always getting into trouble and calling
upon others to help him out.




CHAPTER VI.

MR. SMOOTH FINDS HIS PATH TO THE WHITE HOUSE A DIFFICULT ONE.


"'Good morning, Mr. Smooth!' saluted the fat man behind the mahogany,
as I entered the office, having escaped from my perilous position in
the seventh story. In addition, he took a lunar observation all along
down my hull, which he said was a mighty tough sort of craft, and had
received no damage for which the house could be held responsible.

"As if to make the picture more complete, a number of anxious-looking
individuals (all firm friends of Uncle Sam) crowded about me, each
putting some curious question in reference to my expectations and the
Executive and his gifts. Many of these important gentry had
proboscises largely developed and very red; indeed, the reddest nose
was strongest evidence of the best office-seeker; albeit, some
waggishly inclined gentleman had said that the most generously
red-nosed man always esteemed his deserts to be no less than that of
United States Minister at some very fashionable foreign Court, where
the good red of a well-developed nose was significant of pure
blood. 'Well now, gents,' I returned, 'you needn't be trying to poke
your political fun at this citizen! Young America is all right
yet. Put me on the track of Mr. Pierce's whereabouts.' Seeing they
were facetiously inclined, I summoned that independence so necessary
to a citizen of standing. At this moment, one more politely inclined
than the rest, stepped forward, and commenced giving me the ins and
outs of the way to see the Brigadier, who, lie said, was surrounded by
many fairweather courtiers. Stepping politely to the door, he, with
grace not unbecoming, raised a well-gloved hand, and half
whispered:--Mr. Smooth will walk into the avenue--keep on the West
side--join the throng (they are all officials in embryo)--be sure and
look as serious as they do; and with them you will arrive at the
'White House' to take your place and chance.' Oh! chance! 'There is no
missing the way, Mr. Smooth; get behind some well-dressed citizen--one
who looks as if he were in pursuit of something the means of securing
which he had made sure. Follow that man!' I thanked him for his
civility,--he seemed one of Uncle Sam's bone-breakers, and sallied out
under the happy contemplation that a gentleman from Cape Cod was on a
par with the same species of mankind from South Carolina. It was true
that with what little aristocracy we boasted--and in that little there
was truly a great blessing, inasmuch as it illustrated the fact of
there being one spot on this earth where common sense had got the
better of refined sense--was founded in the possession of 'niggers,'
the number giving rank in the scale. In the small but very
aristocratic atmosphere of democratic South Carolina it had been
proposed to establish an order of the American garter, the means
entitling to membership being the possession of a very large number of
fat negroes and negresses: and to ingratiate the august order it was
proposed to make Colonel Wade Hampton first knight, and Lady Tyler
first knightess. The reader, Mr. Smooth feels assured, will pardon
this little digression, which he will set down to my love for that
darling little State.

"I soon muddled my way along with the crowd, among which there were
very long faces, very short faces, and faces from which nothing could
be extracted--the comic faces always kept behind! As a matter of
policy I got behind the man who had the longest and most quizzical
face; for he gave out signs of seeing daylight through political
darkness. I made his acquaintance, and found him of the free-and-easy
school. 'On your way to see the General, stranger?' I inquired, edging
up to him in a polite sort of way--at the same time keeping up the
free-and-easy. 'No,' he answered with a laconic air, and a half
significant shrug of the shoulder, 'I'm merely strolling this way,
leisurely contemplating. I take it you have not been long in the
Capital?' he added. 'You are right on that point, citizen,' said I in
return.

"'Expecting a good appointment?' he continued to inquire,
philosophically. 'Well, it may be: s'pose you're in for a
Ministership, if you come out a martyr,' I replied, adding a Western
wink which is given with both eyes. He very good-naturedly
acknowledged that I had hit the mark, gave me his arm, said we must
look in somewhere by the way-side and taste a small drop of Young
American whiskey, which would have the effect of making stronger our
friendship. This we did, drinking a good time to Mr. Pierce. No sooner
was the whiskey down than all his ideas came straight up. He said he
was none of yer small fry;--like thunder he had stumped it for General
Pierce; like electricity he had down in Georgia and Western Alabama
carried everything for true democracy. 'Reckon Mr. Smooth never was
down South?' he concluded, in parenthesis. I assured him I never was;
but that I had heard it was great of office-holders, and persons who
would, with every consideration for the Union in general, hold the
federal government very fast. To this he merely bowed in confirmation.
To another question, which was rather of a delicate nature, he said
the South did not so much value the emoluments of office; but her sons
reverenced the noble qualities of their forefathers, with whom dignity
was inherent,--and it was they that were best qualified to maintain
and spread its influence for the benefit of the nation. It was the
dignity of the nation, made manifest in its government, the South
sought to maintain. So said my friend, whose name was Pringle
Pierpont--well acquainted with Uncle Sam. All of a sudden he laughed
outright, saying I was ignorant of the _why and how to do, diplomacy_
of Washington. What it is impossible to get you must always say you
never wanted; and what is within your reach, always say was far beyond
our expectations. Meantime, be a philosopher, and act with apparent
indifference to what is going on around you: never tell a friend you
are worth less than one hundred thousand dollars. Upon such an
hypothesis you may face the General, talk profound (here and there in
parenthesis letting out your knowledge of foreign affairs), but never
give him to understand that you can extract crooked and put straight
ideas into his head--above all, be sure and feel as independent as a
wood-sawyer at two dollars a day. Play well your face, and a spoil of
the game just won will be yours. Marcy is father of this principle!
Heed not the sympathy between your heart and head,--while the one
feels high never let the other play low. Accept anything the General
may be pleased to offer, adding that it is in respect to his great
talent and your anxiety to keep respectable his foreign affairs; and
think how you belie your conscience the while. Now, Smooth, you will
see how open-armed the General will be to see me!'

"I told Mr. Pierpont how glad I was to hear it, seeing that it might
be the means of putting me through on the same hook. Without
hesitation, he said he would do what he could. Had I fought in the
Mexican war the case would have been different--had I been true to the
South, the case had been very different: the distinctions here
enumerated brought down the scale. 'However, the General and me are
one, having fought by his side in Mexico, and you shall be put
through.' So saying, we proceeded on our way, reaching in a few
minutes the White House, the gardens of which we found transplanted
with citizens--set here and there as thick as the gardener's tulips.
Before the circular carriage-way that sweeps to the great entrance,
filed a rampart of moody faces. Mr. Mulligan said they were there for
the study of Botany, he believed. Near the great portico stood the
tall figure of a man plainly dressed in blackest broadcloth; he
sauntered about as if contemplating some hopeless game of party.
Another looked as if he had just sprung from a dressing-case to
present himself before Grandpapa Marcy, in the hope of his personal
appearance making stronger his claims to a very acceptable
appointment. A third had a woe-begone smile on his face, and seemed
studying the nature of a plant that would soon need a careful hand.
When accosted concerning his musings, he said he had done battle right
manfully for the democracy; and now Mr. Pierce's only reply was, that
his demands were of so hard a nature as to render it impossible for
him to knock under. I told him that I would take the small points of
Mr. Pierce's ideas, and the strong points of Mr. Marcy's, and from
them try to work out the P's and Q's of his case.

"'You don't know if the General is at home, do you?' I inquired of
him, with as much good intention as it were possible to put in a
question. 'Know nothing about him since he's possessed himself of the
White House!--My name is Major Sykes, of the Hard Shells, New York! I
know as little of him as the country did before he was elected:--now
and then I see him smoking a long nine while laying off at his ease,
his dirty boots sticking out of the east window.' Here I interrupted by
asking if it were possible such charges could be true. 'True!'
(exclaimed he, more gritty than ever), 'true as daylight; the nation
may bless itself if he stops there. Be careful, my down-east friend,
be careful. He will sell you for a mess of corn for his black
pig. Down-east will stand no chance until Down-south gets
satisfactorily served: a wondrous change has come over the General
since he left the granite hills of his native State, where he did the
law trade in a small way. Now--Smooth, I think they call you, says
he--if I be not much mistaken the General will create a Babylon of
parties, the result of which will render it difficult to define his
own position. If the General would but get up a _cross_ between
southern secessionists and northern free-soilers, how happily it would
illustrate his policy.' Clasping his hand, 'Major Sykes,' said I, 'I
pity you.'

"'And so do I you,' he replied quickly. 'And when you come face to
face with the General, think of Uncle Sam, but don't forget
yourself,--_that is the motto!_' Saying thus, he started off, much
after the fashion of a man who feels somewhat fudgy. Duly esteeming
the position of a man who has that in his composition which gives
power to manliness, and has higher motives than political for its
aims, I made my way to the entrance of the White House, whistling
Yankee Doodle as I went. The closer I got to the great doors the more
violent became the crowd, until at last it ended in a jam of
bodies. 'Not so fast!' exclaimed an anxious individual, whose eyes
darted terror from their very sockets. 'Gentlemen!--it's my turn,'
re-echoes another half-stifled voice. 'Was not I in the city seven
weeks before the inauguration? and didn't I carry everything for the
General down in Pennsylvania?' roars a tall individual, whose hat had
received what may be called a shocking smash. Then they swayed forward
in a serf of bodies. Now it poised, as if for breath; then again it
swayed onward, threatening limb and wind. An exceedingly lean
gentleman, with a hard brown face, and a patch over his left eye,
cried out to the figure that stood bowing at the door, and demanded
that his card be first taken to the General, whom he was kind enough
to declare a right good fellow and a most intimate friend of
his. 'Perhaps you have a claim that way!' retorts a sharp voice, which
belonged to a sturdy figure well out at the elbows. He declared he had
driven the whigs out of Old North Carolina--had carried strong the,
State for Pierce and posterity. Another individual near by, and who
seemed inclined to doubt the assertion, suggested whether it were not
more probable he carried all the _watering_ establishments of that
renowned state, seeing that his nose and eyes had stood the storm of
spirits. No one ever heard of his carrying anything else! 'True,'
rejoined another: 'he can drink his way through a democratic canvass,
tell the most amiable lies, absorb any amount of chaffing, and stands
less at swearing than any other man in the country: more than all, he
can demolish the King's English at a stroke.' Such pulling, hauling,
squeezing and yawning, 'cussin' and swearing--such cross-firing,
crooked joking, and slang jibes, never before was seen in such perfect
medley. In calmer moments, even the hard-fisted, iron-hearted,
unterrified and never-washed democracy would have shed a few blushes
over it. Old democracy was nowhere--Young America was triumphant; his
sprouts were up and coming.

"'Clear the way there!' I exclaimed, raising my voice to a point.
'Mr. Smooth will walk in, and himself present his card to the
General.' The crowd looked amazed,--begun to give way. 'Mr. Smooth,
citizens,' continued I, motioning as if it were my intention to
speechify, 'is something of a body--don't stand none of your small
fritters. Mr. Smooth--like the principles of his party--was intended
for cutting a figure in the world; he will unmask aristocracy, whip
creation, and demonstrate the truth of manifest destiny.' Then they
all shouted a fashionable hee-haw, by which they hoped to drive me off
the track; but it was no go. 'Clar the way,' says I, 'or I'll split
the crowd like a thousand of bricks!' I accompanied the word with a
terrible look, at which they filed right and left as I chased square
up to the inner door, where stood a stiff sort of person, whose
clothes had grown on him--so tight were they. Surprised at my sudden
approach, he first gave many nervous winks and blinks, and then added
the silly airs of my Lord Spoonbill's menial, who, with hair buttered
and powdered, knew but the servilities of flunkeyism. 'Is the General
at home?' I demanded, adding before he had time to answer, that if he
had a spare lucifer I'd have no objection to taking a smoke with
him. With the consequence of a sleepy congressman, he inquired if my
business with the General was special. He seemed to have the keeping
of the General, much after the fashion of a keeper who guards the wild
animal of a menagerie.

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