IF, reader, you be an honest man, and in any way acquainted with the pranks of politicians in these our times, you will not pour forth a lamentation over what I have written; for I take it you will see that I have broken the filthy clods only, to get at the real truth. But if you be a politician, thief, or housebreaker-in fine, if you belong to any of these twin professions, the members of which find it convenient to extinguish the light of their own history, and take no delight in truths which concern themselves, then I may expect to be visited with your eternal enmity. Sweeten, then, your breath; and if you would send me to that place I have firmly resolved never to go to, pray call to your aid such papers as the New York Tribune and Evangelist, for they are both clever at sending all who differ from them to the devil, without even the aid of clergy. And as those sent to the devil by this medium have only the Editor of the Herald for mourner, just imagine that gentleman in tears, and chide me no more, for I must see to the major.
The critical condition in which I left the major renders it imperative that I should return to him without further delay. And I must here say, then, in restoring him to consciousness, that much ice water was used, a portion of his hair and beard was shaved off, and sundry aromatic liquids applied to counteract an odor that was by no means delightful to the senses. And when he had recovered sufficiently to sit up, his eyes were fixed confusedly upon those about him; then his hands wandered to his haunches, and he heaved a deep sigh. "Pray tell me, gentlemen, (for I seem to have just come out of a trance,) what has befallen me? Pray tell me, gentlemen, that I may offer you such an apology as becomes my position, for I am in a condition no man need envy. And to lose a hard earned reputation so easily is no trifling thing." The commodore was struggling to suppress his laughter, which had been excited by the forlornness of the figure before him. He however begged the major to be composed. As to losing his reputation by so trifling an accident, he enjoined him not to think of it, since history afforded numerous instances of great heroes who had met with similar ones. In truth, it was just such an accident, taking place on the commencement of a great battle, that saved General Cushing from the bullets of the enemy, and his life to the country! And this timely accident I record here for the benefit of that admiring generation which is yet to come, and which might be deceived by that worthy historian, the author of "The Mexican War," who recorded with so much faithfulness all his gallant deeds, and hanged himself when he had finished. Hearing this, he at once took heart, and declaring that it was all owing to a derangement of the stomach, said, that although it was the first time in his life that he had ever met with such an accident, he had not the slightest doubt of its influence for good, since a man's virtues lay in his power to bear up under such trials.
They were now nearing the city, and the "Two Marys" having been left far astern, the squadron put about, preparatory to setting the major on board his own ship, which was done without the firing of a gun, and with as much caution as if they had been handling eggs of a venerable age. It must however be said for the credit of the military profession, that the major never relaxed one iota of his gallantry, and left the yacht with many kind remembrances for the ladies, especially Miss Flora, whose beauty he declared he had never seen excelled, though he had read all Mrs. Southworth's novels by candle light. It ought also to be mentioned that one of the officers, seeing his necessities, and being a man of a philanthropic turn, gave him a pair of breeches, with a stripe down the side. And with these the major consoled himself that he had at least parted friends with the Yacht Club, and that, after all, there was no great loss without some small gain.
The squadron executed a maneuver, fired two guns, and parted company with the "Two Marys," as, with seven days' news from Barnstable, she neared Peck Slip, and made fast to a wharf, on which was assembled a very dejected looking throng of people. Those fortunate enough to have hats took them off, and began cheering in the wildest manner, whilst the more respectable, whose raiment was of an exceedingly damp description, and had been used at night for beds, took to using their hands upon the heads of their neighbors. Here and there a philosophical policeman was seen, with his hands in his pockets. "Heavens!" said I to myself, "instead of being on the road to fame, we have fallen among vagabonds, who will plunder us!" But I was relieved of my fears by being informed that they were all honest voters, who, though they had not a shirt to their backs, took righteous good care of the city's affairs.
When it became known that the major and myself were really on board, there was a great firing of guns, and such other demonstrations of welcome as made the major glad at heart; for he had changed his nether garments, and was now sure the news of what had so recently befallen him had not reached New York. There now came on board four flabby men, dreamy of countenance, and whose dilapidated garments bespoke them persons of menial occupations. But as neither St. Paul, nor Alexander the Great, nor Henry Ward Beecher, (who, I take it, is as great a man as either of them, and will leave more portraits of himself than both,) never dressed according to their "circumstances," so these four flabby men, the major thought, must not be judged by the condition of their raiment, for it was nothing new to see great men shabbily dressed.
The shortest of the four flabby men, an oily sort of shabby gentleman, who was blind of an eye, and had very disordered red hair, and a bruise on the end of a very red nose, which looked like a birch knot growing upon a redder face, now came jauntily forward, and having doffed a much damaged hat, that sat on the side of his head with a challenging air, and approaching the major, who had arranged his uniform to the best advantage, spoke as follows: "Long life t'yer 'onor, for me name's Dinnis Finnigan, born on the banks of Lough Neagh, near Kerry; but for all that, as I says to myself, Dinnis yer jist as good an American as iver drew first breath on the soil. And now, seein' it's yersel, Major Potter"—
"Commonly called Major Roger Potter," interrupted the major, with a bow. "And since I see you seek me, I may say I'm the person. I make no doubt you have heard of me. I need not say how glad I am to see you, for that will be told you by my private secretary." Here the major turned round and cast a glance at me.
"The same man that wouldn't hear of the likes o' ye, major, would'nt be much of a politician. Ye'r as wilcom as the flowers of May, jist," resumed Mr. Dinnis Finnigan, who now disclosed the singular fact that, (Mr. Finnigan was a reformed member of the "Dead Rabbit Club,") he now formed one of the Board of Common Council, where no man could vote better on a question of money. Mr. Finnigan was evidently not dead to the importance of his office, for he promised no end of things in honor of the major, to the carrying out of which he pledged the city, and would with equal sincerity (for his mind was in a condition to make cities appear very small) have pledged the whole Union.
The major had for some moments been fixing his eyes upon Mr. Finnigan with a scrutinizing stare. Suddenly his face became flushed, his eye quickened its glare, and he stammered out, "I know what belongs to good manners, and though you may be a councilman, Mr. Finnigan, my eyes, and they are good ones, tell me I have seen you before."
"Faith, an' that same's not unlikely," interposed the moist councilman.
"Aye, and when you went by the name of Greeley Hanniford, and followed an occupation that cost me all my money."
Here Mr. Finnigan quickly interrupted by saying that as they had both attained to the position of gentlemen, it were best to adopt Bishop Hughes' motto, and let bye gones be bye gones. In truth the major recognized in Councilman Finnigan, the honest Quaker, Greeley Hanniford, who, with General Fopp, of "Pleasant-side Row," had managed to relieve him of all his money during his first adventure in New York.
"But although he neither acted justly nor honorably towards me, our conditions have changed, and it does not become my high position to rake this thing up now, so let's hope he is come an honest man, and a good politician!" thought the major, extending his hand to the moist councilman, who was not a little troubled at the old reminiscence.
"And my motto is, major, let them what's dead, stay dead! But sinceits not mysel is to spake the addriss, but Dan Dooley, who, by theVirgin, is an alderman, a gintleman, and the friend of FatherFogarty-"
Seeing there was an old score to be wiped out between Mr. Councilman Finnigan and the major, Mr. Alderman Dan Dooley, who was the tallest of the four flabby men, and a whiskey visaged gentleman of ponderous parts, now came fussily forward, and after exchanging many bows and compliments with the major, saying how extremely glad he was to welcome him to the city, introduced him to his son in law, Councilman Dennis Blennerhasset, a frisky little man, with a cocked up nose, and an expression of countenance in which no man with half an eye could fail to read in what land he drew his first breath, if, indeed, the rich brogue with which he returned the major's salutation had not already revealed it. Having, long since, resolved not to have my veracity as a historian impeached, I must not forget to state here, (and I warn every pugnacious critic to be careful how he points his lance at me,) that Alderman Dennis Dooley, although the firm friend of Father Fogarty, was said to be the ablest editor on the Evening Express, which for its profundity of logic, and purity of style, was truly a marvel in journalism. As for Councilman Blennerhasset, no man could bring aught against his capacity for mixing compounds of deleterious liquors, which he sold to the decaying humanity of his district; and, being what was considered a modest man, the notion came into his head that he was born for the high office of Councilman the very day he married the daughter of Alderman Dooley. Mr. Councilman Blennerhasset spoke of himself as we the common council, we the elected to do you honor on this great occasion; we the representatives of this great and glorious metropolis. Having accommodated the we a sufficient number of times to satisfy us that he had the whole city nicely tucked away in the pocket of his shabby coat, he turned round to introduce Alderman Barney O'Toole, who, as a man and a gentleman, could do more off hand fighting than any other man in the board, and was the fourth of the flabby men. But that distinguished politician and gentleman, who had been seven times sentenced for smashing the skulls of his adversaries, was not at hand, having, while Mr. Blennerhasset was thickening the compliments, winked me down into the cabin, where he drew from his pocket a luminous bottle of old Bourbon whiskey, and in the most friendly manner offered to pledge me in numerous glasses.
Just at this moment, a dozen or so of wan faced reporters, in massive beards and black hats, pressed eagerly through the crowd, and went to work like beavers dotting down all that was said, and a little more. Then commenced the address by Alderman Dan Dooley, whose breath was redolent of anything but the balm of a thousand flowers, and who delivered his speech with an unctuous self satisfaction, and in a style of rhetoric totally unknown to Pericles, and never thought of by Demosthenes. The address was carefully worded, so as to make the major a greater statesman than had been known in any previous age, which is a fashion at this day; and if I be not much mistaken, this speech was written by that witty scribbler of the "Times" newspaper, who gets up speeches for heroes at five minutes' notice, and then, having pocketed the money, laughs in his sleeve at the men he has made fools.
As addresses of the nearest possible resemblance to that delivered on this occasion by Alderman Dan Dooley, may be found almost any day in the morning papers, I hold it good economy not to occupy my valuable space in recording it here. Nor, indeed, will it be necessary to insert the major's reply, since it was very similar to that made by him to the Commodore of the Yacht Club, and may also be found in all the newspapers. And now, when these ceremonies were over, the major bethought him of his horse and pig, the former of which he found surrounded by a swarm of unruly boys, whom the strange figure he cut, with the holsters and saddlebags mounted, afforded much amusement. The latter was quietly lying down in his cage, but came forward to render homage as soon as he heard the major's voice. I should mention that the major always aimed to be up to the fashion of the times, and learning from Councilman Blennerhasset that demonstrations of a more public character had recently been declined by one or two very distinguished politicians, he made up his mind not to be a whit behind any of them, (for the reason of which the reader may discover by conjecture,) and therefore positively declined all public demonstrations, notwithstanding the Splinters' Guard was soon on the spot, ready to do him escort duty. He, however, retired into the cabin, where, (I say it without envy, for I love a brave soldier,) he took a quiet glass of whiskey and a sandwich with the very honorable "committee of reception." And this being duly noted by the reporters, (one of whom was seen purloining a sandwich or two,) the major gave directions about the care of his pig, ordered his saddlebags upon old Battle, who was weak enough in the extremities, and proceeded to the wharf amidst the deafening acclamations of a hundred ragged urchins, who, notwithstanding the distress of the animal, would have mounted and rode away, but for the kindly interposition of two policemen.
There was standing on the wharf a somewhat dilapidated carriage, to which four lean gray horses, such as are used for drawing all great heroes through the city, were harnessed, and presented so forlorn a figure that one might easily have imagined them employed by the devil to convey to his dominions that shabby class of sinners consigned to him on Sunday evenings by the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher. Into this the distinguished representatives of the great metropolis insisted upon getting the major, that he might be conveyed to the apartments secured for him at the great St. Nicholas Hotel, in a manner becoming so great a politician. But as the major was not quite sure whether his reputation would be best preserved by sticking to the politician, or by dropping the politician, and sticking to his laurels as a military man, he shook his head and hesitated for some time. He was half inclined to dub himself the warrior; and as warriors always appeared best on horseback, he was, to the great delight of the throng, about to mount his faithful animal, assign me his seat in the hero-trap, and follow at a respectful distance. But he bethought himself that both were noble professions; and, surely, to emulate in both must be a prominent desire with all great men. After holding a consultation with me, he said he always remembered the motto: "Great is the man who humbles himself." Being satisfied then that it would not lessen his dignity, nor, indeed, in any way detract from the character of a military politician, who had need enough to look to his laurels, he agreed that Alderman Dan Dooley should ride old Battle. And with this resolve he at once repaired to the carriage, in which he took a seat with the three gentlemen of the committee, leaving me to pick my way as best I could, and drove away for the hotel, (followed at a respectful distance by the loquacious alderman, thus comically mounted,) with this strange string of cattle. And this wonderful cort‚ge was followed by scores of hooting and ragged urchins, who switched old Battle's gambrels, and annoyed him in so many ways, that the alderman at length lost his temper, and was several times forced to dismount and beat back the harassing enemy with stones and such other weapons as he could lay his hands on.
And now, gentle reader, fearing I may weary you with this long train of nonsense, which, however, I have endeavored to make conform to the follies of the day, I will close this chapter, and for what took place at the great St. Nicholas Hotel, refer you to the next.
So great was the anxiety of the reporters to jot down the most trifling occurrence, that they followed close at the heels of the juvenile rabble, and at times were in great danger of getting their heads cracked by the missiles hurled by the infuriated alderman, who, in his heart, had a holy horror of such persons, and would have killed a dozen of them without shedding a tear, though they had several times made very intelligible English of his very unintelligible speeches. Fatigued and almost out of breath, they, however reached the grand hotel in good time, and quite took possession of the landlord's best parlor, though he was as polite a gentleman as could be met with in a day's journey. They then entered his gorgeous bar-room, and partook freely of his liquors, (of which he kept none but the best,) telling him that as they were without money, he must charge the score to the freedom of the press. The host being accustomed to the pranks of these worthy men, as they are called by their employers, bid them take comfort in his house; at the same time, knowing their propensities, he cautioned them against making free with his chambermaids.
The cort‚ge had been proceeding at a slow pace, which so increased the difficulties they met from the ragged urchins along the road, that the driver whipped up and arrived at the hotel in peace. But this rather increased than diminished Alderman Dooley's difficulties, for old Battle being unable to quicken his pace, the urchins made him the object of their mischief, and so retarded his progress that the major had arrived full half an hour when he reached the hotel. In truth, he was compelled to dismount and lead the animal, in order to secure his own safety.
The reception at the hotel, as it appeared on the following morning in the newspapers, was something truly magnificent, proving conclusively that the reporters had seen no less than one hundred persons for every one present. My love for truth in all matters of history constrains me to say, that these reporters made a great mistake, since nothing could have been more simple, and yet in keeping with true greatness, than the major's reception at the hotel, and this for the very reason that he had outdistanced the rabble. My declining years and gray hairs forbid me envying any man his laurels, but I will not degrade a noble profession by making myself the vassal of every great man who sets foot on these shores. I say, then, that when the cattle and the major reached the door of this spacious pile of white marble, wherein cheap luxury awaits the million, it was near sundown, and the only persons standing at the grand entrance, were those eight or ten bediamonded gentlemen who carry on their occupation in suspicious places, and are commonly called swell mobsmen, though judging from the air and circumstance with which they occupy the great entrance to the great St. Nicholas, it would seem as if the landlord had employed them for the double purpose of ogling ladies as they passed and holding up his marble columns. I should indeed be sorry to hear that this was true, for an extremely respectable acquaintance tells me the landlord is a most excellent gentleman, and looks well to the reputation of his house.
As the carriage stopped the major cast a glance upward, as if viewing the curiously wrought lintels of the massive marble front, and exclaimed: "Upon my soul, gentlemen, it is so grand I begin to fear I shall not be comfortable in it." He had scarcely concluded this sentence, when a distinguished politician, habited in soiled drab trousers and a shabby brown dress coat, and a badly collapsed hat, which he wore well down over his eyes, rushed eagerly out, and was followed by a mellow faced policeman, with a green patch over his left eye and a club in his right hand. Constituting in themselves a committee of reception, the distinguished politician, who was a delegate from the custom house, now made himself right busy in getting the major and the high functionaries safely out of the carriage. And this being done without delay, the policeman ordered the swell mobsmen to stand back until the distinguished politician had presented his congratulations, which he did, adding that he had long been familiar with the potency of the major's greatness, which the city, unlike other cities, was always ready to honor.
The strange figure cut by the major, in his stranger uniform, attracted the attention of sundry enthusiastic chambermaids, who appeared upon the balconies, and recognizing in the character of the team the arrival of an important personage, commenced waving napkins, and giving such other visible signs of their admiration, that he was with difficulty restrained from making them a speech on the spot.
He now moved quietly into the house, the jaded policeman on his right, and the distinguished politician on his left, and followed by the three high officials and a score of reporters. Turning neither to the right nor the left, he proceeded straight on into the great bar room, where the queerness of his walk and raiment attracted no little attention among the well dressed gentry who nightly meet there to discuss over well compounded punches all affairs appertaining to the welfare of the state. And here, having quenched their thirst in mixtures of whiskey and water, which is the favorite drink with all really great politicians, the party quietly retired up stairs to a splendidly furnished parlor and bedroom, provided at the expense of the city, against which a score of six shillings now stood at the bar.
A sudden commotion in the street, accompanied by shouts and huzzas that made the very air echo, discovered the fact that Alderman Dan Dooley had arrived. Indeed, the scene that at that moment was being enacted in Broadway beggared description, and caused a great scampering among the reporters, who hastened to the spot in order not to lose a single occurrence. There stood old Battle, bespattered with mud, and in a condition so pitiable, that no truly philanthropic gentleman could have withheld his tears. Near him stood Mr. Alderman Dan Dooley, excited, distracted, infuriated, and swearing by all the saints in the calendar, to have revenge of a swarm of unwashed and ragged urchins, who stood jeering him at a respectful distance, and whom his sudden advances and retreats rather amused than daunted; for although they seemed in no way inclined to stand his charge, they would follow his retreat with renewed energy. A waiter now relieved the animal of the saddlebags and holsters, and taking him by the bridle led him limping to the stable, where he seized with great avidity the hay and oats set before him. A second policeman, according to a well respected custom among the force, came up when all the trouble was over, and addressing the discomfited alderman, said: "If I had been a minute sooner, sir, this thing would not have occurred; but I was called from my beat to quell a brush at fists between two of our common councilmen, at Florence's. I now come to your protection; and as you are a worthy gentleman, whom it is my office to obey, say but the word and I pledge you my faith to club the heads of every one of your persecutors. But first let me entreat you to get into the house, and if my club fail not, you shall see how I can keep the peace."
The alderman listened with great attention to the policeman, converted his rage into discretion, and disappeared in the great bar room of the St. Nicholas, where he forgot his afflictions in a stout draught of water and whiskey, which so addressed itself to his dignity, that after ordering it charged to the city's account, he repaired quietly into the presence of his true friends, who had already began to unite in compliments to the major. "Now, meiger," spoke Mr. Alderman Dooley, approaching the major, with his right hand extended, "understand that it's we that are the riprisintitives of this mitropilas, in which ye're as wilcome as the flowers of May. Mind that now! And may the smiles of heaven rest upon ye, an' upon the gineration ye bilongs to. Gifts, meiger, are given to the great for a pirpose. Faith, it's my own exparience tells me that! Whisht now! (Here he tapped the major confidentially on the arm.) The city manes to do ye 'oner enough, oneyhow. An' its myself and Terry Brady 'll see the pay comes." Terry Brady was the name of the distinguished politician. Mr. Dan Dooley now being, as he said, "entirely done out," flung his hat under the table and himself upon a luxuriant sofa, carved in black walnut, and upholstered with green and orange colored brocade. And upon this he felt great comfort for his feet, while the high colored figures of the Turkey carpet afforded him an excellent target for the substance he ever and anon ejected from his spacious and discolored mouth.
And, too, my high regard for the fair guests of the great St. Nicholas, of whom it was said by these malicious reporters that they rushed "en masse" to receive the major, immediately he entered the house, reminds me that I must not forget to mention, that the only ladies present were the wife of the distinguished politician, and a damsel of fair looks and firm virtue. I am no higilian, and only use the term "firm virtue" here, as being applicable to this damsel; for although no end of slanders had been cast upon her, the man who dared to come forward and say he had trifled with her chastity, was yet to be found. By these, I freely confess he was received with a courtesy worthy of so great a politician.
And now, when it was night, and two thousand jets of gas threw a blaze of light over the massive pile, which seemed suddenly transformed into a regal palace, where high colors and cheap revelry went hand in hand, the party, joined and rejoined by several other distinguished politicians, refreshed themselves on a sumptuous supper, which the landlord had prepared without regard to expense. And when this was over, and the major's arrival had got fully noised about, there came such a throng of rejected humanity that the house presented the appearance of a palace beseiged by bread rioters. And so impassioned did the clamor of the throng become, that I thought if Saint Nicholas, who was supposed to be the presiding deity of this hotel, could look down upon it without a frown, he must be an uncommon saint. In fine, the landlord found that getting so great a politician into his house was not much to its reputation, as the eclat therein gained would be counteracted, with tenfold interest, by the pilfering propensities of his unwashed followers, who now rushed into his house in such ungovernable confusion that guards had to be stationed along the passages, armed with tipstaffs and bludgeons. Indeed, he wished in his heart that the devil or some other gentleman of quality had Major Roger Sherman Potter, for then he could preserve the good name of his patron saint.
Persons of every political hue and circumstance poured in, were presented to the major, and drank of the liquors which were being ordered without stint and despatched with the same freedom by the honorable committee of reception. And thus they came, and drank great draughts, and complimented one another. And although not a few marveled at finding the major such a queer person, and quite unlike what he had been represented, all joined in drinking his health and flattering his vanity. And when it was ten o'clock, there came divers delegations of ungainly persons, (from the custom house, and the post office, and Tammany Hall, and various other halls,) such as fighting men and vagabonds, who, being headed by such ambitious politicians as the invincible George Branders, and flanked by the too honest Emanuel Hart, presented an appearance so suspicious that the guests of the house began to look well to their pockets, while the landlord set several of his servants to gathering up the old clothes. Indeed, it seemed as if rascaldom had broken from its dominions to revel in the palace of St. Nicholas. And as all these shabby gentlemen, but very excellent politicians, stood much in need of something to quench their thirst, it was soon found that the small sum set apart to pay the landlord for all his services, would not even wipe out the score at his bar, to say nothing of the damage done his furniture and other little affairs. He had given bed and board to many a man without getting a dime in return, and thanked heaven that good fortune had enabled him to do so, but now he was not a little disturbed in his temper at the state of his accounts, for he knew the city was as slow to pay an "over ordered" bill as it was quick in paying homage to great demagogues. He therefore, in the kindest manner, intimated to the major, that unless he would be personally responsible for the "surplus," he must close the score at his bar. And this he said in self-protection, for no man could lay the charge of having done a mean act at his door. The major, with becoming courtesy, pledged his honor to the landlord, and bid him think no more of the bill, since if he closed the floodgate of his bar, which gave out such exuberant medicine as made the tears of patriots to flow, his power would surely be at an end. "Be not agitated, sir," said he, with an air of enlarged self complacency, "but convert your misgivings into confidence in me, for I see you are a true republican, and would not harm a man whose fame is so well established." Thus the major addressed the landlord, who retired with regained confidence, and, as I thought, a feeling of self reproach for having intimated his doubts in the matter.
The major was now getting weary with the mighty business of receiving the compliments of ten score would-be patriots and noisy politicians, when there entered a greater man than any of them. And this was no less a person than Don Fernando, a man of much will and circumstance, and now mayor of the city. Many things had been said of this truly great man, not the least of which was, that the Romans ought to be thankful that he was not born in the days of the C‘sars, though in the honest yearnings of his ambition he had frequently indulged in the thought, that his wisdom and invincibility of arm was second to none of them. Indeed, it was said among other things, equally true, that he had more than once consoled himself with the fact, that if he had not gained the notoriety of C‘sar, it was no fault of his will, for he could make promises he never meant to keep, and gnash his teeth at his enemies, to an extent that ought to satisfy the most enthusiastic admirer of Roman greatness. But republicanism, as developed by the prudence of our people, had so changed and altered things, that great men, though they had performed unheard of deeds of valor, were laughed at when they assumed powers not clearly belonging to them.
As the design of this history will be imperfect unless I record what took place when these great men met, and which ought to be read and considered by future generations, I must here inform the reader, that he will find it faithfully translated in the next chapter.
WE are an exacting people, frequently requiring too much of our great men, and achieving in a week what it took ordinary nations, such as Greece and Rome, years to perform. Therefore I hold it right that we be cautious how we trust the recording of every great event to such witty but careless historians as Bancroft and Prescott, who are much given to pleasing descriptions of wonderful revolutions, but entirely overlook the battered and bruised hero, for the purpose of making others to their fancy.
You must know, then, that this mayor, Don Fernando, (he bore no resemblance to the Don Fernando of Don Quixote,) advanced with the gravity and solemnity of one whose business it was to kill giants; for though he was a man of much humor, he had a necromantic facility for dissembling, and could declare before high heaven his innocence of any crime laid at his door, and in the very next breath issue an order giving peace and comfort to pickpockets. And while I am writing of this great man, I may mention that if there was any one thing more than another he was famous for, it was a curious infatuation for great placards, in which he enjoined all good citizens to preserve the peace, at the same time commanding his worthy vassals, the policemen, to crack the skulls of all who came in their way.
Tall of figure, with a pale and long visage, which he prided himself resembled the visage of an equally great man, he advanced at a pace indicative of one who felt the grandeur of his position. The major was at first not a little surprised at the manner of his visitor; but being himself a dabster at great things, he soon recognized the quality of the new comer, and came forth to meet him in all his uniform, not even forgetting his three cornered hat, which he passed with his left hand while making an unexceptionable bow. Unembroidered greatness-yes, naked greatness, stripped of all falsehood and pretence, and such only as is worthy of governing an honest world, which it would generously do, but for the trifling inconvenience to itself, was here represented in these two great men-the Scylla and Charybdis of these wonderful times. The only perceptible difference in their prowess was, that the mayor stood at least a head and a half taller than the major. Both had begun making unexceptionable bows, when Alderman Dan Dooley, seeing the embarrassment that might occur, came resolutely forward, (having first set down the bottle from which he had replenished Councilman Finnigan's glass,) and addressing the mayor, said, "Faith, then, I ask no greater enterprise than to serve yer 'onor, seein' how ye know the dacency one great man owes to another. By my faith, then, I'm deloighted to prisent ye to the gintleman we all mane to 'onor. Faith, an' it's himself's before ye, Meiger Roger (stay! what the devil is it now?) I have it. Meiger Roger Jefferson Potter!"
"Major Roger Sherman Potter, commonly called Major Roger Potter!" the major interrupted, with a deferential bow.
"Faith, an' the neame atween the two's no matter onyhow!" rejoined Mr. Alderman Dooley, who, having left the two great men to themselves, again took to the bottle, and continued serving himself and his friend with an experience in every way worthy of so great an alderman.
"Pray, sir," said Fernando, with a gracious smile, "take nothing amiss that our worthy friend says." And here he blushed, and seemed not a little mortified at the pranks of his favorite alderman, though they were natural enough to the condition he was in. "He means well," resumed the mayor, dryly, "and is an honest alderman, though given to drink at times. And now, since fortune has been so kind as to grant me the opportunity of paying my respects to one so worthy of admiration, let me congratulate you upon your safe arrival in the city. I have the power, and it will be my pleasure to see that the public acknowledgements you have merited are properly bestowed." The major here interrupted by reminding the mayor that he had, on the advice of a very good friend, declined all public ovations.
"As to that," continued Fernando, "fashion has made it necessary to say these little things; for a great man is never so great as when he seeks to avoid homage. And we are not always bound to say what we mean."
"As to my greatness, sir," replied the major, "I will leave that to others; for it is no trifling thing for a man who has done all he can for his country to be snuffed out by the envious pen of some rascally scribbler for the newspapers. Let us think well of ourselves, and leave the rest to our friends."
"Truly, major, you are of my way of thinking, for that is precisely what I do."
"And because you do, you have risen to your present proud position!" interposed the major. "Being a military man, I would have you know that I am no flatterer, but a man who loves peace, and hates the devil and all his arrogant vassals. Your fame, sir, has gone over the land; and as to your greatness, I bow to that, for I have heard many good men testify to it; and now that I see it with my own eyes, written all down the length of your person, no man shall speak ill of you-in my presence! And as you have embarked in great undertakings, may heaven grant you power to carry them to a successful issue."
"As what you have said concerns me much, accept my thanks; for it is the good opinion of men like yourself that pleases me. I have now many difficulties on hand, it is true; but when I have conquered, and shown myself superior to my enemies, I will lay up my sword, give my hand to the people, and my heart to enjoining heaven to grant me repose. The bent of my ambition, sir, would have no difficulty in finding its way but for those wonderful men, the editors, who lay a new born child at my door every day, and think it no harm to set the country by the ears, though they are glad enough when men of our stamp step in to conciliate matters."
They thus spent ten minutes in pleasant conversation, complimenting one another, evidently not a little pleased with themselves, and resolved not to leave the settling of their preeminent prowess to any one else. Indeed, the scene enacted between the mayor and the major would have become extremely affecting but for Alderman O'Toole, who, being a man of much understanding, proposed that they seal their friendship with a little brandy and water. Neither having any scruples in the matter, they filled their glasses with much pomp and circumstance. "And now, gentlemen," said Mr. Alderman O'Toole, "I propose the health of your honors together; for barring General Pierce, greater men never lived, as myself knows." They bowed and emptied their glasses to this toast, at which several of those present were not a little amused. The mayor, who was, with his many other traits of character, sufficiently versed in strategy to extricate himself from any snare, said he felt constrained to say a few words in return for the compliment, and was about making a speech on the spot. Happily a waiter entered at the moment, bearing in his hand a plate of cold chicken, which so excited Don Fernando's appetite that he thought no more of his dignity, but seized upon the best meated leg, and holding it daintily between his fingers, and applying his teeth, never stopped until he had stripped it clean to the bone. And while engaged in this laudable enterprise, they were surprised by a band of musicians in the street, playing "Hail to the Chief." The night was dark, and on looking out of the window, it was discovered that the musicians were some twenty grim looking Germans, with very long beards and longer brass instruments, with which they seemed determined to perforate ten ragged newsboys, who, with the picture of rascality written on their mischievous faces, stood holding as many pitiful tallow candles almost under the noses of the windy fellows, whose eyes were on their notes. When the band ceased playing, the throng cheered and kept up a loud calling for the major, who, the mayor said, must go out and make a speech, for it would not do to offend them by keeping silent. He also deemed it prudent to caution the major against saying what he really thought. In truth, he whispered in the major's ear that he must mind and strike the popular point; and when touching upon anything of great moment, be careful to so construct his sentences that they embody a double meaning. As to promises, he must be sure to make enough of them, only let it be on the principle that promises are always expected to take care of themselves. When the major had listened sufficiently to the admonitions of the mayor, he repaired to the balcony, where he was so surprised to find several ladies, dressed with great taste and splendor, that his modesty became much taxed, though they saluted him with becoming courtesy. The crowd outside, which was now rampant of disorder, recognized in the short, corpulent figure before them, with the red hair standing erect upon a turnip-like head, the man of their wish, whom they greeted with three deafening cheers. The major bowed and spread his hands, in the left of which he held the engrossing emblem of his dignity, his three cornered hat.
"Gentlemen!" said he, in a voice somewhat shaky, "I thank you for this great honor, which I may or may not have merited. You know it does not say much for a man that he speaks of himself; but this I will say, that the man who serves his country for his country is the man for me. If you, being people of high quality and much respect, (I never judge men from what they seem on the outside, not I!) shall give me your confidence, I warrant you shall see I am no unscrupulous politician!" Here the throng sent up a loud cheer, and tapered it off with three tigers. "Ah! that is what I like," resumed the major; "I always did like the music of the Democracy. It sounds as if it was the free offering of hearts innocent, and not given to retrieve." "Intrigue," whispered Don Fernando, correctively, as he stood close behind the major, evidently delighted at the good temper of those about him. "Exactly!" bowed the major, "intrigue was what I meant to say!" Affected either by the strangeness of the scene, or his anxiety for the welfare of his much valued animals, he continued in this incoherent strain for some minutes, but said not a word of his early whiggery, or the affair of the Yacht Club. Many of the persons outside now began to marvel at the strangeness of his speech, and to think him not so much of a politician after all. In truth, although he said much about our liberties, and was several times jeered with the question as to what he thought "about niggers," not a few puzzled their brains to find out to what manner of politician he belonged. And as he concluded by enjoining them to be good fathers, dutiful husbands, and honest men, which three virtues were sure to secure the blessings of heaven, the puzzle became still greater. And yet the throng cheered vociferously. When, then, he had concluded, he wiped the perspiration from his brow, fritted his finger through his beard, and shook hands with several of the ladies, who still thought him a great man, in whose strange speech there was much those acquainted with the politics of the nation could perfectly understand.
Again the music ceased, and loud calls were made for Don Fernando, who always had an apology when invited to make a speech, and an excuse for making it on the second invitation, which he never failed to accept. In fine, I say it with no intention of satire, that Don Fernando never let an opportunity to make a speech slip through his fingers, though three invitations, as he held, were necessary to one speech. In truth, he regarded invitations as losing nothing in their passage, when they concerned great men; for it was a rule with our best politicians to make reluctance a virtue.
After repeated calls, then, Don Fernando turned to address the multitude, and said in a speech of some twenty minutes, much that they had heard before, and expected to hear again. He cautioned them to look well to their liberties, though it were good to be careful how they were found breaking the peace and men's heads. I would mention here, that this singular admonition was induced by the presence of some six or seven of Don Fernando's old friends among the throng outside. And these worthy men commenced their favorite avocation with such shouts as-"Go it Fernando! Fernando and liberty!" And when they had thus deported themselves to their satisfaction, they took to demolishing the trombones of the players, as if such amusement was to their taste.
Don Fernando concluded his speech by saying, he saw in the persons present, the great and glorious elements of our expanding civilization. Kind providence just then sent a refreshing shower, as if in pity at the condition of the raiment his listeners were clad in. And this sent many to their homes; but the more patriotic had no fear of a shower, and seemed not inclined to leave until they had heard a speech from Mr. Alderman Dan Dooley, for whom they called loudly. These calls were seconded by persons on the balcony, who out of sheer derision, demanded his presence with so much earnestness as convinced the loquacious Dooley that history and his friends would not be content without a word from him on this great occasion. But Don Fernando well knew that the reporters, as was customary with them, would embellish that one word rather curiously, for they were kind to him, and invariably made him say all the witty things they could think of.
"Upon my word, Mr. Dooley," whispered Don Fernando, "the thing has ended well; and it strikes me we have had speeches enough for the evening."
"Faith!" exclaimed the Alderman, "I'm contint to lave them with the spaech of yir 'oner."
Mr. Dooley, if the truth must be told, was not in a condition to get off smooth sentences, though his deportment would have afforded much diversion. And as good speeches lost nothing by keeping, he resolved not to let his off just yet. And so completely was Don Fernando master of the Alderman, that he sauntered, or rather oscillated into a corner, and sat down.
The small hours of morning had well nigh come, when Don Fernando, without change in the dignity of his bearing, took his departure; expressing, as he left the door, the great pleasure it would give him to receive the major at the City Hall on the morrow. And when he was gone, the committee of reception thought no more of him, but drew their chairs round the major, and with divers friends of the same hue and circumstance, commenced showering upon him no end of compliments, declaring him to be the father of more political reforms than Jefferson and Washington ever dreamed of.
When their generosity had come sufficiently mellowed, and the landlord had declared his inability to furnish any more whiskey, and Mr. Councilman Finnigan began to see ghosts and murderers by the dozen, all of which he would have sworn were real, and set about thrashing with the gallantry of a true Irish gentleman, Mr. O'Toole proposed that the major become a citizen of New York, when he would wager any amount of money to make him next mayor of the city.
"I cannot say I would be equal to the duties, gentlemen, for I have never been mayor. My services, (except now and then,)"-here the major filled his glass-"have been for the army and politics, which I take it have nothing to do with setting a city to rights. If spitting an enemy, getting up a riot, and giving peace and comfort to them who have a taste for breaking heads, be things which a mayor must be an adept at, then you may trust me, gentlemen," said the major, giving his hand to Alderman Dooley in pledge of his faith.
Alderman Baggs, who was a man of much wind, and extremely fond of making speeches on these great occasions, though in this instance he had peaceably pursued his advances upon the bottle, and left the speeches to others, proposed that instead of mayor, which after all was no great affair of an office, he immediately set on foot a project for making the major President of the United States. The major, he said, had surely evinced ability enough.
"What you please-make what you please of me, gentlemen, for I am your servant, and the good servant is known by his work-that I know! And if it is your will that I should be President, my highest ambition shall be to serve you to the best of my ability. This I may say, give me the power, as my wife, Polly Potter, used to say, and I will hang fillibusters to your satisfaction."
An alderman of the name of Billy Bristle, who was known to have a slight inclination for fillibustering, and had more than a score of times pledged the city to the measures of gentlemen that way inclined, having just looked in to pay his respects to the city's guest, rose quickly to his feet at hearing so bold a proposal to get rid of his friends, and declared his readiness to fight any gentleman who would say a word damaging to the character of the fillibusters. Alderman Dooley, between whom and Alderman Bristle, an old grudge had stood for some time unsettled, cast a frown upon the assertion, and declared that the language held was an implied insult, whereupon he measured with his stalwart arm the distance between his body and the Alderman's nose. This being the signal for a grand set to, which was had in right good earnest, the scene of confusion that followed no one need attempt to describe, unless he have the pen of a Balzac. Tumblers and broken chairs being the order of weapon most in use, and the major not being skilled in the use of such arms, lost no time in retreating to a dark closet, where, closely packed among sundry old clothes and house rubbish, he congratulated himself by saying: "Now, as I am a military man, and have no taste for this sort of fighting, I will look well to my head, and let them have the glory."
The landlord had paced his halls in great tribulation for some time, for he saw he had been grievously taken in, and that the damage to the reputation of his house would be four fold what he would get of the city for all his trouble. Seeing, then, his house in a state of confusion, and having fears for the good name of his patron saint, he rushed into the room, crying, "Gentlemen! gentlemen! pray leave my house, for though I see you are guardians of the city, you seem to have as little respect for the reputation of my house, which is my bread, as you have for the good order of the city. Pray get away from here, and what you have had shall be given for charity's sake." Seeing they were not inclined to respect his admonition, he called a posse of policemen, and ordered them to clear his house of the miscreants; but they, seeing it was their own masters who were deporting themselves in this disorderly manner, merely shook their heads and walked away. In this dilemma, for the landlord saw he could not get of the police what he paid for, he called some two score of his own servants, who, having no respect for high officials who do not respect themselves, were not long in tumbling them into the street; and would have had Major Roger Sherman Potter following them, if he could have been found!