The Adventures of My Cousin Smooth Part 2

I inquired, as the fellow hesitated and again viewed me from the extreme points. 'Now, Uncle Sam, to you I would say a word, hoping, in the spirit of a very good christian, that it may be received as wholesome advice. You, Sam, are forgetting that fame which should reflect us in future ages; you, Sam, are a.s.sisting those who would lay sullied hands on our pure republicanism--who would sink it in the political slough, and build over it the reeking b.a.s.t.a.r.d of a pitiable tyranny. Stretch out thy hand, Sam, that we may cease to cut before the world and the rest of mankind so sorry a figure. Sam! you have sent your little villains out upon the world; recall them ere they prove themselves great fools at our expense.'

"Well, to go back:--I began to push my way past the flunkey, when he summoned his bra.s.s and said I couldn't come in--that I must slide myself into costume of the eight stripe! This to me was neither diplomatic nor polite. And being deemed impolite, according to the rules of our Young America, I placed the broad front of my knuckle-bones between his observators, (just to bring out his s.p.u.n.k), and demanded to know what they charged in Washington for a few knockings-down. To which he elongated himself, and with cool a.s.surance said it had never before been his fortune to be put through the process--hence he was not prepared to figure up the amount. A place called limbo, he said, was just over at the corner; that I better keep an eye to it. This last saying gave the crowd outside furniture for a good laugh; they, the citizens, set to quizzing me about the hang of my breeches, which they were pleased to call diplomatic. This, I inferred, was in consequence of Grandpapa Marcy having gone to there was no knowing how deep into the breeches business, hoping thereby to prevent plain American citizens making very unplain apes of themselves when abroad. Indeed, neighbor Marcy would demonstrate to the world that cloth and diplomacy were two very different things. And this doctrine my Uncle Buck--all praise to his name--fully endorsed,--that is, he proved himself the only American minister not given to purloined crests and crimson cloth.

"'Smooth is a nine-cornered citizen in the rough: he needs polishing down with a federal holly-stone before he can be admitted into good society:' a voice like the creaking of a door resounded through the pa.s.sage. Being a rough sort of citizen didn't affect me as long as I had the straight up-and-down principles within. Well, I got up the go-a-head, and walked in steady. 'T'wont do! citizen Smooth!'

interposes the flunkey, putting out his right hand as his face reddened into a blaze. 'Young America must keep within bounds; he must conform to the established etiquette before he can see the General.'

Not liking to be out of sorts, I turned to him, and with the best kind of good nature told him not to come within grasping distance.

"Lord bless yer soul, Uncle Sam! I told him it was always good policy to keep civil to distinguished individuals, and treating his insolence as Captain Ingraham would an Austrian proclamation, I kept onward (that's the motto!) until the pa.s.sage-way opened into a gorgeously decorated hall, the motto on the door of which I surveyed until my head begun to ache. The General seems to have got him a snug and well-ordained establishment, thought I. But the fixings were rather more profuse than democracy in its simplicity had led me to suppose its taste appreciated. But there was no concealing the fact, that the democracy--its love of simplicity not excepted--did pay large sums now and then for showy fixtures and grand failures. The short-comings of the New Hampshire law-shop were extinct--elegance everywhere met the eye. While enjoying my meditations one flunkey approached another, telling him to keep a keen eye on that fellow--meaning me. Then a slim figure done up in dignity and tight clothes approached me with a polite bow: 'Please remember this is the President's mansion,' said he, viewing my perpendicular as if he questioned whether my length was all real growth. Seeing that the establishment belonged to Uncle Sam, I a.s.sured him he was a little too impertinent.

"'Now, neighbor!' says I to the citizen, don't deceive yourself by supposing the General has got his aristocracy up like this before he has lodged three months in the White House. I'm an independent citizen; come to put some straight policy into the General, who, with the a.s.sistance of his grind-stone man, Fourney, unfortunately has got everything into a twist. My name (sometimes they call me Squire) is Solomon Smooth. It don't matter what they call me now, for be it known, ye men of t.i.tles, all the fishermen in our district have become judges and generals. This is the result of that necessity that makes negro-drivers of the south captains and majors. 'But the President,'

said he, 'has got such a fearful load of business on his hands this morning, it will be impossible he can see Mr. Smooth, nor are the apartments in a state to be seen by visitor--' 'Always in the suds!' I interrupted. 'No! that ain't it,' he continued, half trembling of fear; 'but the President is new, nor yet has got into the straight way of doing crooked business.'

"'Never mind that,' replied I, 'Smooth's an independent citizen, who must not be interfered with while taking a turn round the establishment: he neither stands on ceremony nor political point-making.' The fact was, Mr. Smooth had a very wholesome hatred of the nonsense of ceremony, and always pitied that complacency of Uncle John Bull who, like a well-worn and faithful pack-horse, never flinched under the heavy burden of that precious legacy called royal blood, which, said blood, was fast absorbing the vital blood of the nation. May our Union always be spared the degradation of such blood!

"The fellow, seeing I was not to be outdone, gave it up for a bad job, and contented himself with following me here and there, keeping a fixed eye on my motions, as if he feared I was going to become enamoured of some of Mr. Pierce's chambermaids, which said commodity was acknowledged to be very pretty, and much admired by Jones, who did the fashionable at Willard's. It having been said that the General, like Jackson, would keep himself, I endeavored to persuade the fellow to show me his nook. He only shook his head and said it wouldn't do: so I took a careless stroll through the loose apartments, and ceased only when my sight was gratified. 'Well!' says the flunkey, adding a deep sigh and a despairing shake of the head, 'it's no use trying to control this citizen; he's of the fast school, without bowels.'

"'You may believe it!' returned I, advancing toward a broad circular stairway that wound downward far into the regions below, where I expected to find Fourney and Company holding the General down upon the grindstone, while Uncles Caleb and Jeff turned, and Marcy stood by to say when enough of the rough was got off. 'There! in my soul he's going down into the kitchen!' The fellow bawled out as I pa.s.sed down, and soon disappeared, saying it was just the winding way I sought; and, though the things to be seen in the vortex to which it led might be dangerously dear to the nation, the proof would at least be convincing. On I went, the way darkening as I advanced.

CHAPTER VII.

MR. SMOOTH PENETRATES THE DARK CONFINES OF MR. PIERCE'S KITCHEN, WHERE HE FINDS THINGS SADLY CONFUSED.

"Down, down, down, went, groping my way (significant of the General's policy) through a long dark pa.s.sage, whence came a rancorous stench, strong enough to kill cats and doubtful democrats. 'Keep the right hand way for the kitchen: General is in there, a.s.sisting in the making of a monster stew. Work your course through the smoke--you may be sure Mr. Pierce is in the thickest cloud, though over the smallest stew-pan,' a voice echoed, as if broken on the winds. 'All right!' I muttered, confronting on my way the still stronger odour of the sickening steam. My intention was to have a political discussion with the cook (Fourney by name) and say a thing or two to the General; for I had got a sort of cross-grained notion into my head that he was compounding a grand stew for the black pig with the horns. Meanwhile my stomach said it would have no objection to join the General over a good breakfast. Presently I scented the frying of fish, which betold that I was on the right track. But lo! as I was about to open a great door that led into where the fussing and frying was going on, a voice screamed out--'Visitors are forbidden these premises!' Here was a pretty kettle of political fish. 'Much you know about it!' I replied testily, and turning saw nothing but fog and confusion. Faith and energy being the two great pillars of human progress, I summoned them to my aid, and pressed onward, determined to see for myself who regulated the culinary. This resolution was adopted solely on the ground that the General had repudiated his responsibility to the people, and joined hands with those who eat up all the loaves and little fishes.

"Mr. Smooth, on behalf of Young America, esteemed the having positive proof of how Mr. General Pierce kept his kitchen things a duty he could not forego, and upon the strength of which he presented himself to the august culinary cabinet, which he found enveloped in a dense cloud. As I pa.s.sed the great door, a fat man from Florida, who filled that office of steady habits, the doorkeeper, said Mr. Smooth, which he read on my card, was decidedly impertinent; the more so because neither of the old grey-back parties had ever troubled themselves about the kitchen fixings; that the present was an innovation he was sure Mr. Pierce would resent by the withholding of appointments. I left him to his opinion, and delved my way through the smoke, until I began to think I had lost myself, and instead of Mr. Pierce on the grindstone found a lower region of unlimited extent--so murky and dismal was the place. They said it didn't use to be so! Such fritter frying; such johnny-cake baking; such chowder making, and flounder frying! Nearly a dozen fine buxom-looking, corn-fed females (_helps_),--such as Vermont only can grow, were stuffing and stewing, and beating and battering, and themselves seeming on the eve of dissolution. They evinced alarm at my presence, but I told them not to be scared, inasmuch as I was an intimate acquaintance of the General, for whom I carried Cape Cod. On the left side of the kitchen there stood at a great deal table an aged maid whose mien was somewhat fidgety. This visible nervousness was increased with the labour necessary to prepare the ponderous pile of soft dough-nuts she worked upon; which, she said, when ready (though of little substance) were intended to satisfy the Down-easters, who never expected much, and seldom got anything. I pitied the poor old lady, for she seemed well worn. She declared it was pinching times in the kitchen--that is, her part of it. She prepared a deal of little niceties for the peace-loving North: but, the General was so pinching with matters on that side of the house, and had become so enamoured of the black pig!

This voracious brute demanded everything, and got what he demanded--even got us into a deal of trouble. Indeed, it had been said that all the swill in the country wouldn't satisfy him--he would seek abroad for more. 'Needn't be afraid, old lady,' said I, edging up to her in a polite sort of way: 'Smooth won't harm n.o.body. The New Englanders think well of the women--they do!' Here I gave the old lady my hand, and shook her's right heartily. 'Why,' I continued, 'there's three Women's Rights Societies down Ma.s.sachusetts way, any one of which can start a breeze at pleasure--blow the men all into thunder! I say, old lady, better join one of them--pay fifty cents, and blow the men all into political rags. Musn't take what I say amiss; but you looks as if you could do some blowing: the General standing much in need of that article, why not volunteer? The General is going it pretty fast now, but just get the Women's Rights Societies to blow him a little, and he'll go fast enough for any Young American party out.'

After leaving the old woman, who said she was nearly related to General Ca.s.s, I went politely to the other girls, bidding them, one after another, a square down good-morning, ending with a social chat and a smile for them all. On the opposite side of the smoky kitchen stood the grim figure of a n.i.g.g.e.r wench, as big as the north side of a Dutch lighthouse, and as saucy as Benton's goat. The way she was making the wool fly over a sas-pan as big as old Zack Coffin's ile kettle was a caution to nervous folks. 'What on earth have ye got in that, eh?' I inquires, peeping over the side into the half-scalding foam.

"'What business is that to you?' sounds, like thunder rolling away in the distance, from t'other side the cauldron. Looking up almost dumb-founded I espied the hard phiz of the General, in dim outline through the fog and steam, stirring away at a ma.s.sive ladle.

"'Pierce! Lord love yer soul--is it you?' says I, my feelings rising into a rhapsody of affection for him: 'Give us yer hand.'

"'Yes, it's me; just come round here if you can see your way through,'

says he; and I fumbled my way round, and got him by the hand, and had a hearty good shake, just for old acquaintance sake.

"'But what in the name of Columbus are you doing here?' I inquired, touching him on the elbow, significantly.

"'Well!' he answers, rather undecidedly, 'just helping prepare this pot of mixture for the black pig.' He kept on moving his big ladle with one hand and throwing in additional feed with the other, from a bucket that stood close by.

"I inquired of the General where he kept so dangerous an animal, and was told in the most complacent manner that he ran all about, was as ravenous of power as the gentleman of those lower regions we hear so much about is of sinners; that he demanded all the country's swill.

Here the General threw into the cauldron another sprinkling of grits, which he said was to complete the pot of h.o.m.ony. It was merely the daily feed of the black pig, which the colored female a.s.sisted the General in preparing. The General seemed very good-natured, and commenced a mathematical description of the ingredients of the mixture, when suddenly there came a fierce blow from behind, which well nigh tilted him deep into the foaming liquid. I grabbed the broad expanse of his nether garments, while the wench screamed, and was only quieted when she found him safe under her broad lee. A deep sonorous voice responded:--'Stir quicker in the feed!' I turned to see from whence it came, and who had dealt thus unmercifully with the General, when behold! there stood this hideous animal. With fourteen horns he incessantly used, and two just growing, he hoped in time to use; with a back of thorns he ever and anon threatened all who came near him; with a tail of poison he defiantly lashed, and a wicked eye that sought objects afar off--he was the most pertinacious brute unchained.

Moreover he had a snout like a ploughshare, with which he had frequently driven Mr. Pierce to the wall.

"'Add more grits!' again the brute growled out, as if alike unhappy with himself and those around him. The voice had scarcely delivered its command, when Mr. General Pierce, as undecided as wanting in vigor of intellect, turned gently round, patted the hideous monster on the head--said he would do all he could to pacify him, though to appease his discontent seemed impossible. Indeed, it was a fact that notwithstanding much of the swill intended for the whiter portion of the litter was sacrificed to this demanding brute, he ill.u.s.trated his grat.i.tude by threatening to swallow Mr. Pierce into the bargain. This was most unfortunate, seeing how much had been done to transplant the breed to foreign lands.

"Mr. Smooth felt that for a President to be thus driven to extremes was indeed an unenviable position. I told him I thought Young America would do something, and, with a little advice concerning his principles, pa.s.sed on through the smoke and foam until I confronted Uncle Jeff and Cousin Guth, both hard at work over a blazing fire, frying a monster fish. Uncle Jeff's ap.r.o.n looked as if he did most of the greasy work, while Guth looked on and directed the turns--now and then whispering a word to the French cook, who with sparkling eye, and oval olive face, and hair so glossy, black, and curly, was dexterously compounding a luscious sauce. 'Going it on the strong!' said I, giving Uncle Jeff a significant wedge under the shorts as he was about to let the grease in the stew-pan fuzzle. Guth, who at the moment commenced dredging in a little more pepper, and a little more b.u.t.ter, and a small sprinkling of salt, said they had been trying to cook this old fish for there was no knowing how many years, all to no purpose; but now that the arts of the very best French cook in the country had been secured he was sure to be done brown. Here he smiled and turned to the cook in question, who bowed with such grace! Such a bow in the presence of ladies would have secured his reputation. Indeed, the said cook was extremely neat of person, though rather below the middle stature, and was well thought of among lawyers and ladies, who declared they liked his graces better than his gravies. 'He's of the right stripe--a fillibuster cook!' said Jeff, exultingly, as Guth gave the coals another stir. 'This is a Cuba flounder,' interposed Guth. 'You see, Mr. Smooth, the General is exceedingly partial to this sort of flounder, but he doesn't understand the quality of dressing requisite to the cooking it--he must be done with native sauce. It is necessary he should be fried in a southern griddle, with plenty of native sauce--an article for which this cook of ours is not celebrated.'

"'Well, gents!' rejoined I, 'if you do brown that old fellow this season I'll knock under. However, don't be bashful about extending Smooth an invitation to breakfast: understand, he is rather fond of a good fish hash, which he thinks it is the profession of your French cook to do up.'

"'Lord bless you!' quickly interrupted Uncle Jeff, 'being a good Down-east democrat, your wish shall be gratified.' Then in great good nature he told me just to step along, and a little further into the dark smoke I'd find Grandpapa Marcy and Uncle Dib, exerting their wondrous energies over a stew they were puzzled to get to the right substance. Knowing that their good advice was much better as example than the result of their actions, I wended my way along, leaving Guth and Jeff to their frying, and soon came upon the two old worthies, busily employed over stews of the most incomprehensible ingredients.

'That,' spoke Grandpapa Marcy, as I approached within hearing distance, 'is the real democratic stew, it will cement hard sh.e.l.ls and soft sh.e.l.ls into one strong conglomerate ma.s.s.' He pointed to a punch-bowl held between their legs--(for they were seated on the floor)--and containing a mixture they stirred with spoons containing the Tammany-hall mark. For some time I stood contemplating the venerable appearance of these two, nor could I resist a smile at the singular occupation they had so readily adopted. Uncle Dib seemed happy, and evidently had a keen sense of what the consistency of the stew must be to make the flounder palatable. Grandpapa's countenance, nevertheless, wore an air of deep anxiety. He had undertaken the management of the most unruly set of cooks that ever infested the kitchen of a respectable gentleman; and they had made a shocking mess.

And, too, Grandpapa, was unhappy; his clothes bore seedy marks, and his breeches were in such a plight--it really excited our pity. I called his attention to an unmentionable rent in a conspicuous place, but he seemed careless about it--said it was of no consequence--and that Uncle Sam was a good old soul, and always paid the tailor--he knew from experience. Suddenly I heard the formidable negro-wench raising her voice in admonition. She was scolding the General, who still kept stirring in the h.o.m.ony grits for the black pig. Then a noise came through the foam and smoke as of one in trouble. 'Faster, faster!' it spoke, 'stir in more grits!' Then followed a loud splash and a deathlike shriek; alarm and consternation spread throughout the building. From the cauldron came the cry. Grandpapa moved for a moment, as was his custom, declared the voice to be no other than that of the General himself. Dib agreed ('There's trouble!' he exclaimed) and both sprang to their feet, and with anxious countenances hastened to the rescue, Marcy crying out, as he pa.s.sed Jeff and Guth, 'Stick by the flounder, boys! Stand firm; don't give in until he's well cooked; we'll save the General--you dig in the basting.' The boys, as Grandpapa called them, were crowding the charcoal finely. Always having a taste for seeing what was going on, I kept close at Dib's heels, and soon saw through the grim smoke where the trouble was. The black pig had got the General poised by the nether part of his breeches, on his Virginia horn, and was having a nice little game of shuttle-c.o.c.k with him, just for his own amus.e.m.e.nt, while his executive victim shrieked most piteously, expecting every succeeding surge would land him beneath the surface of the boiling ma.s.s. The old n.i.g.g.e.r wench had fainted at the sight, and lay sprawled on the floor, as Marcy, making a grab at Mr. Pierce's breeches at a moment when the savage brute was giving a last vault ere he landed his victim into the scalding h.o.m.ony, tripped his toe and brought his length upon the floor beneath the pig's hind legs. 'It's all gone!' exclaimed the General; and in another minute nothing was seen save the soles of his boots protruding above the boil-surface. The surly brute, having generously moistened Grandpapa Marcy's head, stood, his fore-feet on the rim of the cauldron, gazed after his struggling victim, and held his head high aloft in triumph. This brought Uncle Dib to the rescue. After raising Grandpapa, with limbs extended, they drew forth the half-cooked body, reeking with the black pig's swill, and laid it on the kitchen floor, the ungrateful quadruped walking victoriously away. Satisfied that I had seen enough for one day, I sought my way back to the National, where I contemplated the next move necessary to my mission.

CHAPTER VIII.

MR. SOLOMON SMOOTH TAKES A FISH BREAKFAST.

"Well, Uncle Sam, I reckoned I'd seen enough of the kitchen arrangements; so I left them sc.r.a.ping the General--that is, getting off the injured outside, in order to see what really he was made of, and what he had beneath the undefinable cover. When in Washington, there's nothing like going ahead; and if you can look a man into respect for you, so much the better. Dignitary or no dignitary won't do; you must always profess to be a distinguished individual. Well, on the strength of the invitation extended by Jeff--to take a fish breakfast on the following morning, when it was expected the flounder would be done brown, I again repaired to the White House, and after pushing my way through all kinds of pa.s.sages and doorways, found myself in a gorgeous sort of establishment.

"'Your lookin for somethin, I take it?' said a trim figure, whose face rather bordered on the bra.s.sy.

"'Well! I reckon I am. Can you tell a stray citizen where the General hangs out in the morning?' I replied, as he confronted me and paused.

"'Sartin!' he rejoined, interrupting me, and at the same time looking very sociable, as if he wanted to have a talk on politics.

Nevertheless, it was getting close upon the hour of breakfast; so he takes me by the arm, and stepping through a frickazeed pa.s.sage up to a large door which opened into a ponderously furnished room, 'I'll take your card, sir!' continued he, with a low bow and a motion of the hand to sit down.

"Didn't have a card at hand, but chalked down Mr. Solomon Smooth, from Cape Cod, on a piece of thick paper per, that suited all the purposes.

"'Mr. Smooth belongs to the Young American party, if I mistake not?'

he returned, with a polite bow.

"'You better believe that, citizen!' says I, and off he goes, soon disappearing through a door at the other end of the room. While he was gone, I thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to take a survey of the premises. So, lighting my cigar, I began at the top end first. Such looking-gla.s.ses, sofas, carpets--so much fashion and flummery, that n.o.body could tell what utility it contained, I never had seen before. Tell you what it is, Uncle Sam, we have an expensively queer way of representing our republican simplicity! As I was squinting about, in comes the General, looking as bright as a newly-coined cent. Running up to me, with hand extended, and exulting with joy, he spake: 'Great kingdom, Smooth!--is it you?' And then he shaked my hand as if he never would let it go.

"''Tis me too!' says I, giving him a significant touch on the elbow. 'Didn't expect to see you looking so bright, General--rather a bad kettle of fish that you unfortunately got into yesterday, eh?'--

"'Oh no--things like those are mere trifles; hardly worth mentioning amidst the current turmoil of the day. That black pig is an ungrateful brute, though, I must confess in confidence,' the General replied, touching me on the arm.

"'He sunk you in the very swill you were cooking for him, eh?--petulant brute!' I rejoined.

"'Well, Smooth,' said he, 'don't let us say any more about that; I was deceived--most egregiously! How are all the Young Americans down your way--the real go-ahead stripe?' he inquired anxiously: and we both laughed heartily to see one another. 'They're all bright ends up, General,' said I. 'General!' (I touched him on the shoulder) ''taint more nor three years since we used to go fishing in old Sam Peabody's pond; hain't forgot it, I reckon?'

"'Not I, Smooth. Give us yer hand for old acquaintance sake! No change of power or circ.u.mstances could make me forget old a.s.sociations.

Fortune may change, my feelings never; they have been and shall always be with the people.' The General couldn't keep the dignity on, to save his life; he was not born to do so!

"'Give us yer hand, General,' I demanded in reply; 'right glad to see you, and to know that old New Hampshire's granite hills have not faded from your memory, nor been absorbed in the quant.i.ty of swill it seems necessary to provide for the black-pig. But, I say, Frank, what harlequin-like changes politics take in a republic--now and then! Two years ago, and who'd a' thought a' seeing you here? 'Stonished you yourself, didn't it? Scarcely expected to brush old General Scott's fuss and feathers into a c.o.c.k'd up hat, eh? There's nothing like a man keeping his mouth shut when he's got others to do the fighting for him; you know that, don't you, General?'

"'Mr. Smooth is always asking some strange questions, or making some queer observation!'

"'Now, General, I reckon how you didn't get the hang of this 'ere establishment all on a sudden? Seems to me how I'd like to be President of these United States about two months, merely to have the satisfaction of straightening the cross-grain of political parties; they have got so so crooked now-a-days.' The President just then said he would take my hat, and hoped I make myself quite at home. As everything seemed so comfortable, I had not the slightest objection.

'Now, Smooth,' he reiterated, spreading his length on a magnificent sofa, 'I am anxious to hear how the Young American party progresses down your way; and you must tell me all about it. I intend to give you a roving commission as my minister in general.'