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 scraping 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 passages 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 brassy.

"'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 passage 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-glasses, sofas, carpets--so much fashion and flummery, that nobody 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 circumstances could make me forget old associations. 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 quantity 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 cock'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.'

"'I'll do that,' I replied, and just when I was getting the story fixed square, he interrupted me by saying--'One moment, Mr. Smooth; we are going to have a flounder breakfast--it's the same old fellow you saw Uncle Jeff and Guth cooking yesterday morning,--they've got him pretty well browned--You must join us.'

"'Well,--have no objection; but tell us, General, how is the missus?'

"'Right well, Smooth; she'll be delighted to see you.'

"'And so will I to see the missus; I know'd her when she warn't bigger nor Cousin Obadiah's Jane, and didn't think no more about being Mrs. President of these United States nor my missus.' In answer to which, the General said a respectable man might as well be President as anything else--we all know how to be. Here we joined arms, and like jolly fellows of a stripe, took a few turns up and down the apartment. 'Well! here's pure democracy,' thought I to myself. Taking Mr. President Pierce's arm doubled my independence--made me feel that I was the left wing of his brightest hope. Having talked over a few small matters of foreign policy, we sauntered together into one of the largest, and longest, and handsomest breakfast rooms this side of Texas. A table of great length stretched across its centre, upon which was arranged in profusion, Georgia potatoes, New Hampshire bacon, Virginia oysters and fried eels, South Carolina rice cakes, and Cape Cod fish balls--all strong incentives to the stomach of a hungry politician. Trim waiters stood round, like statues tailored and anxiously waiting a guest's nod. As I cast a bird's eye glance down the scene, in popped the General's missus, all calm, and with an air of motherly gentleness that inspired me with lofty reflections on woman's mission. As she approached with her hand extended, and such a sweet smile on her face, I could not resist a salutation thus earnest, and grasping it, gave it a good, warm-hearted shake. She said great was her joy at seeing Mr. Smooth--plain Solomon Smooth. She could not feel more joy were I an Emperor--no not even were I a governor of Hungary, who, having lost the chance of winning a diadem, would Uncle Sam lent him aid to regain it. In another minute the gong sounded, the great doors at the opposite end of the hall opened, a train of serious-faced gentry entered, and as unceremoniously took seats. Mr. Smooth being put down number one, took a seat beside the missus. After a blessing had been dispensed, the conversation turned on politics and potatoes. A potent-looking individual, who sat not far down the table, said the Union was known by its magistracy, which being an established fact, should make it incumbent that no chief of this great and growing nation leave the federal chair unmarked by some bold stroke. 'Good!' says I, 'Smooth always went in for bold strokes--they are just the things to make outsiders knock under--' Here I was just getting up to make a speech on behalf of manifest destiny, when a gent who ought to have been voted into the army as a regular cried out:--'Keep cool! keep cool! Mr. Smooth.'

"Scarcely had he ceased speaking, when Uncle Caleb Grandpapa Marcy, Cousin Guth, and good-natured Uncle Dib, and the grindstone-man, Fourney,--all dressed in bright aprons, and white ghost-like night-caps--made their appearance, tugging and puffing at a hand-bier, on which lay the much-talked-of flounder. Jeff, who walked in front with a drawn sword, wheezed, and Grandpapa grunted, and Dib said, 'Carry a steady hand, boys!' and Guth said he would bear up his part, which was the tail part. Staggering along under the load, they brought forth in solemn procession the flounder, and after a good deal of bad diplomacy, laid him, like a stuffed whale, on the table. The General was not quite certain about the catch of this flounder; but as there was nothing like having a dash at things now-a-days,--'here's go into it!' he exclaimed. 'I don't believe that fish is cooked enough,' retorted John Littlejohn, a statesman of very elastic capacity, who spoke for Uncle Bull, on t'other side of the big pond.

"Looking as if he were about making a longe into him, hit or miss, the General seizes up the big carving-knife (generally used by Grandpapa Marcy) and asks who will have the first bit? The pall-bearers, still retaining their bright aprons and white caps, had taken seats at the table, among the guests. 'It's all for me!' mumbles a sullen voice; no one knew from whence it came. 'It's all for me!--who are you?' reiterated Mr. Pierce, kicking under the table: 'I believe in my soul it's the black pig, who always pursues unto the death what he considers his!' True enough, there the savage brute was, lashing everybody's legs, and threatening destruction with his wicked mouth. No one knew how he got into the dining-room; but where the good Uncle Sam had anything to eat or give, there he was sure to be, demanding more than his share. After a hard tussle, Grandpapa and Uncle Caleb succeeded in driving him out of the room; albeit, it was only for a time. The unsatisfied animal was always keeping Uncle Sam in a fuss, and the folks about the White House in an uproar. 'That critter is always crying 'Me first!' rejoined Uncle Caleb, who, having lost his white cap in the tussle with the black pig, looked funny indeed.

"'A Cuba flounder!' exclaims the General, who continued to work diligently, his face flushed as crimson, but I as yet he had failed to secure the first slice. It was evident he had made a stroke too bold, and would now be compelled to draw back a little--perhaps to take a few more lessons in the diplomacy of carving. And while the General was trying to get the knife into the neck part, the critter opened its mouth, and gasping looked as if it thought some of swallowing a whole cabinet of philibusteroes.

"'The brute ain't cooked yet--if it don't open its mouth!' proclaimed the General, the hair almost standing on his head, as he reclined back in fright.

"'The critter's going to be generous, I do believe!' chimed in Grandpapa, whose white cap, during the moment of excitement, had fallen over into Mrs. Dobbin's plate; from whence that good-natured lady, in the moment of anxiety, removed it to her lap, and ere she had been served found it near her pretty lips, under the mistaken impression of its being a napkin. Grandpapa, discovering his loss, politely developed the dear lady's mistake.

"'Tell you what it is General; you'll have to be mighty careful, or that Cuba flounder will swallow all the shiners in Uncle Sam's brass box without yielding anything in exchange,' I insinuated.

"'Not a bit on't!' says Uncle Jeff, going off into a state of excitement: 'Just lend me the carver; I'll put him through;' and seizing the knife from Mr. Pierce's hand, and the steel from Grandpapa's, he was just on the point of making a thrust into the fish, when his mouth again expanded, his fins fluttered, and out came a long roll of paper. 'What on earth is that?' inquired the astonished General, as Jeff unconsciously let the knife fall in fright, and Grandpapa gave an anxious look toward the door, as if to measure the distance between it and his chair,--while John Littlejohn applying his glass to his eyes, squinted seriously at it. 'He's not just done enough for you yet, gentlemen; I think you had better let him stand awhile,' remarks our Cousin John, rather coolly. 'You cannot republicanize him, unless you change his head and heart; I can tell you that, my good fellows.'

"Uncle Jeff, at Grandpapa's bidding, took up the roll of paper, the text of which Mr. Pierce requested him to read. 'A protest, your Excellency!' said Jeff, the paper vibrating in his nervous hand. 'It says, this is to notify Brother Jonathan, that the extreme largeness of his appetite, insatiate in its demands for my body, shall never be gratified therewith. You are far-seeing, have grown powerful, and are rather a good sort of fellow, Jonathan; but I'm not quite ready to say I should prefer either to belong to your household or provide your table with dainty dishes. The fact is, Jonathan, and you know it, when disposed to think on the square, we are not prepared to denounce our league loyalty and come over to you; common sense might have convinced you of this fact. The world protests against your forcing propensities in this little affair between us. For more than two centuries have I remained at peace; let me so continue. I admit that kings, queens, and courtiers, have feasted on my fatlings, and even discomfited me, and caused much discontent among my people; but even they would rather bear the ills that be than fall victims to your black pig's will.'

"'Well!' interrupted Uncle Jeff, looking suspiciously about the table, 'if he ain't the toughest old flounder I ever did see!'

"'Shouldn't be surprised if you found it so!' replied the fish, his spacious jaws opening, and the end of another parchment slowly protruding from his mouth. 'Read that! I must get somebody to help me to eject this instrument.' The General wrested it from its mouth, turned it over and over, and tried and retried to read it. 'It's a protest from John, my Uncle, John Bull and Johnny Crappo, which says:--'We, the said John and Louis, having entered into a sublime alliance with our sublime brother of the East, by which one great and mighty power has been concentrated, do humbly beg Mr. President Pierce (for whom we now have and ever hope to entertain the very highest esteem) that he take heed how he dips his fingers into other people's political pies. And, further, while exhibiting so earnest a desire to appropriate the choicest delicacies of his neighbors to the cravings of his black pig, to be a little more modest. Now, we, the undersigned Louis and John, whose names--in alliance have become mightiest among the mighty, are duly convinced of the many inconsistencies, irregularities, and breaches of _good_ faith, together with the many petty acts of tyranny, the mother of this Antilla flounder has been guilty of, to her own disgrace. But greatness should be known by its forbearance with the weak; hence we should bear and forgive. Yea, we admit that her footprints are marked with blood--that her history has numberless pages written in blood--that her arrogance and avarice have blotted out her national virtue, and now work like a battering-ram her downfall. Yet, as arrogance is but another name for weakness, is it not better to brush off than kill the wasp? The principle herein contained we have, in the sublimity of our power, adopted as an example to the nations of the earth. Jonathan! we like your amiability; we esteem you as a keen fellow, who, large of trade, and wise in the ways of a cheap government, may well boast a happy people: bridle, then, the audacity of that southern ambition, lest it betray you into unforseen difficulties. Let peace be the guardian of that commerce now teeming its grandeur and wealth on your shores; and in all kindness, Mr. Pierce, do we speak, when we say,--look to those _things_ you send into foreign lands to represent the quiet grandeur of our institutions: send the gentleman whose conduct may be a means to great ends, for ruffians leave their little stains behind.''

"'Well!' exclaimed the General, his large square face reddening with anxiety, as he turned to Uncle Dib and Grandpapa, 'I should call this the insolence of sublime power. Let them try their sublime power on this side of the Atlantic!' Here the General gave his head a significant toss, and wiped his lips as he added,--'_Young America_ can whip the three.' This pithy speech being received with great applause, he reached over his hand, and was about taking mine, when I warmly embraced his, saying--'Give me you yet, General! Messrs. John, Louis & Co., having consolidated their sublime power, must not entertain the idea of making a menace over here. We have no means of questioning the legitimate qualities of this sublime joint-stock company; but we would advise its keeping decidedly cool about matters this side of the big water, lest its stock get to a very low-water mark. This old flounder, nevertheless, is a hard case for cooks, nor in my opinion will he be made softer by that celebrated French cook of yours, whose process is that of too suddenly piling on the charcoal. In fact, I believe it not untrue that in political cooking a Frenchman is more a man of muss than method. This you, General, might have known before you engaged him to cater for Spanish appetites. In truth, (it must be told now and then, General), that black pig you so fondly nurse, and which you can neither tame nor make grateful, is sacrificing us to his poisonous litter. And, too, he is dividing his own pen; and when pigs become divided among themselves, refuse to eat out of one trough, and threaten to devour each other, they are sure to become an easy prey to the bore of fractional sovereignity.' With the exception of the General, all listened attentively while I spoke: he, exhibiting little concern, arose with the calmness of moonlight, and was about to make some remarks, as the flounder again opened wide his mouth, which produced a pause. 'You are right,' joined in the flounder; 'that black pig's love of territorial feasts knows no bounds, nor will he stop at that point where justice sets the limit; he will continue his insatiate trade until common sense and generous sentiment interpose and exterminate him. Here is another paper for you--read it! It is the protest of the people of free, enlightened, and happy New England: they protest against being swallowed up in your black pig's bowels!' Again the flounder mechanically closed its mouth.

"'And my old governor across the water will not view with indifference this black brute's ever-threatening disturbances. He watches long, waits patiently, moves cautiously, but enters upon the execution of his plans with monstrous method,' interrupted Littlejohn, who spoke on behalf of his nation, and for the _status quo_ of nationalities in general.

"'I say, neighbor,' rejoins Mr. Sam Blowaway, a leader of the national Young American party, 'pears how, if your old chap over there attempts that game, he'll get himself boots deep into a scrape he'll not find it so easy to claw out on.' And Sam got right up, and looked brimstone at him, straight across the table.

"'I'm methodical, but not easily repulsed: impulsive acts do not constitute valor,' returned John, rising coolly and dispassionately.

"'Grandpapa Marcy now got up to say a word or two, but Mr. Pierce had the floor, and demanded--Order! Order, gentlemen!--Order in the White House! My boys want to get me into trouble, but I feel that I can yet regulate my own household!' he rejoined, with a peremptory tone that excited surprise.

"'Yes,' replied the flounder; 'I say so too. If you do not keep quiet, and live in harmony among yourselves, I will be the means of swallowing you.' Just at this moment the black pig, with savage grunt, bounded fearlessly into the room and upon the table, where he confronted the flounder with open mouth, overturned the table, smashed all the crockery and pewter, made the uproar and confusion complete. The pig and flounder fell upon each other, wrestled among the wreck, nor ceased until, like Kilkenny cats, they had nearly devoured their substance. Such a chaos of excitement as followed! Grandpapa and Uncle Jeff ogled one another in fear and trembling, women fainted in the arms of gallant men; the General, covered with fish gravy, cut the more sorry figure, as with thunderstruck countenance he raised his hands to protest to the nation. Meanwhile the guests suddenly disappeared, and Grandpapa seriously damaged the broad disc of his unmentionables; while Uncle Caleb, shaking his sides with laughter, stood his comely figure in the doorway, the thumb of his right hand to his nasal organ, and his fingers making five angles, quizzing the General in his dilemma. Esteeming it rather an ugly situation for Mister President Pierce, for whose dignity I had a special regard, I picked myself up, made an apology, bowed myself to the great door, and left the General to his pig. 'What a mess you have made of it!' thought I, and straightaway ascended the cupola to watch the nation's emotion.