A cunning man is generally a suspicious one, and is as often led into
error himself by his own misconceptions, as protected from imposition by
his habitual caution.
Mr. Slick, who always acted on a motive, and never on an impulse, and
who concealed his real objects behind ostensible ones, imagined that
everybody else was governed by the same principle of action; and,
therefore, frequently deceived himself by attributing designs to others
that never existed but in his own imagination.
Whether the following story of the gander pulling was a fancy sketch of
the Attache, or a narrative of facts, _I_ had no means of ascertaining.
Strange interviews and queer conversations he constantly had with
official as well as private individuals, but as he often gave his
opinions the form of an anecdote, for the purpose of interesting his
hearers, it was not always easy to decide whether his stories were facts
or fictions.
If, on the present occasion, it was of the latter description, it is
manifest that he entertained no very high opinion of the constitutional
changes effected in the government of the colonies by the Whigs,
during their long and perilous rule. If of the former kind, it is to
be lamented that he concealed his deliberate convictions under an
allegorical piece of humour. His disposition to “humbug” was so great,
it was difficult to obtain a plain straightforward reply from him; but
had the Secretary of State put the question to him in direct terms, what
he thought of Lord Durham’s “Responsible government,” and the
practical working of it under Lord Sydenham’s and Sir Charles Bagot’s
administration, he would have obtained a plain and intelligible answer.
If the interview to which he alludes ever did take place, (which I am
bound to add, is very doubtful, notwithstanding the minuteness with
which it is detailed), it is deeply to be regretted that he was not
addressed in that frank manner which could alone elicit his real
sentiments; for I know of no man so competent to offer an opinion on
these subjects as himself.
To govern England successfully, it is necessary to know the temper of
Englishmen. Obvious as this appears to be, the frequent relinquishment
of government measures, by the dominant party, shows that their own
statesmen are sometimes deficient in this knowledge.
Mr. Slick says, that if Sir James Graham had consulted him, _he_ could
have shown him how to carry the educational clauses of his favourite
bill This, perhaps, is rather an instance of Mr. Slick’s vanity, than a
proof of his sagacity. But if this species of information is not easy of
attainment here, even by natives, how difficult must it be to govern a
people three thousand miles off, who differ most materially in thought,
word, and deed, from their official rulers.
Mr. Slick, when we had not met during the day, generally visited me at
night, about the time I usually returned from a dinner-party, and amused
me by a recital of his adventures.
“Squire,” said he, “I have had a most curious capur to-day, and one that
will interest you, I guess. Jist as I was a settin’ down to breakfast
this mornin’, and was a turnin’ of an egg inside out into a wine-glass,
to salt, pepper and batter it for Red-lane Alley, I received a note from
a Mister Pen, saying the Right Honourable Mr. Tact would be glad, if it
was convenient, if I would call down to his office, to Downin’ Street,
to-day, at four o’clock. Thinks says I to myself, ‘What’s to pay now? Is
it the Boundary Line, or Creole Case, or Colonial Trade, or the Burnin’
of the Caroline, or Right o’ Sarch? or what national subject is on the
carpet to-day? Howsundever,’ sais I, ‘let the charge be what it will,
slugs, rifle-bullets, or powder, go I must, that’s a fact.’ So I tips
him a shot right off; here’s the draft, Sir; it’s in reg’lar state
lingo.
“Sir,
“I have the high honour to acknowledge the receipt of
your letter of this present first of June instant and
note its contents. The conference (subject unknown),
proffered by the Right Honourable Mr. Tact, I accede
to hereby protesting and resarving all rights of
conformation and reniggin’ of our Extraordinary
Embassador, now absent from London, at the great
agricultural meetin’. I would suggest, next time, it
would better convene to business, to insart subject
of discussion, to prevent being taken at a short.
“I have to assure you of the high consideration of
your most obedient servant to command.
“THE HON. SAM SLICK,
“Attache”.
“Well, when the time comes, I rigs up, puts on the legation coat, calls
a cab, and downs to Downing Street, and looks as dignified as I cleverly
knew how.
“When I enters the outer door, I sees a man in an arm-chair in the
entry, and he looked like a buster, I tell you, jist ready to blow up
with the steam of all the secrets he had in his byler.
“‘Can I see Mr. Tact?’ sais I.
“‘Tell you directly,’ sais he, jist short like; for Englishmen are
kinder costive of words; they don’t use more nor will do, at no time;
and he rings a bell. This brings in his second in command; and sais he,
‘Pray walk in here, if you please, Sir,’ and he led me into a little
plain, stage-coach-house lookin’ room, with nothin’ but a table and two
or three chairs in it; and says he, ‘Who shall I say, Sir?’
“‘The Honourable Mr. Slick,’ sais I, ‘Attache of the American Legation
to the court of Saint Jimses’ Victoria.’
“Off he sot; and there I waited and waited for ever so long, but he
didn’t come back. Well, I walked to the winder and looked out, but there
was nothin’ to see there; and then I turned and looked at a great big
map on the wall, and there was nothin’ I didn’t know there; and then
I took out my pen-knife to whittle, but my nails was all whittled off
already, except one, and that was made into a pen, and I didn’t like to
spile that; and as there wasn’t any thing I could get hold of, I jist
slivered a great big bit off the leg of the chair, and began to make
a toothpick of it. And when I had got that finished, I begins to get
tired; for nothin’ makes me so peskilly oneasy as to be kept waitin’;
for if a Clockmaker don’t know the valy of time, who the plague does?
“So jist to pass it away, I began to hum ‘Jim Brown.’ Did you ever hear
it, Squire? it’s a’most a beautiful air, as most all them nigger
songs are. I’ll make you a varse, that will suit a despisable colonist
exactly.
“I went up to London, the capital of the nation,
To see Lord Stanley, and get a sitivation.
Says he to me, ‘Sam Slick, what can you do?’
Says I, ‘Lord Stanley, jist as much as you.
Liberate the rebels, and ‘mancipate the niggers.
Hurror for our side, and damn thimble-riggers.
“Airth and seas! If you was to sing that ‘ere song there, how it would
make ‘em stare; wouldn’t it? Such words as them was never heerd in that
patronage office, I guess; and yet folks must have often thort it too;
that’s a fact.
“I was a hummin’ the rael ‘Jim Brown,’ and got as far as:
Play upon the banjo, play upon the fiddle,
Walk about the town, and abuse old Biddle,
when I stopped right in the middle of it, for it kinder sorter struck it
me warn’t dignified to be a singin’ of nigger-catches that way. So says
I to myself, ‘This ain’t respectful to our great nation to keep a high
functionary a waitin’ arter this fashion, is it? Guess I’d better assart
the honour of our republic by goin’ away; and let him see that it warn’t
me that was his lackey last year.’
“Well, jist as I had taken the sleeve of my coat and given my hat a
rub over with it, (a good hat will carry off an old suit of clothes any
time, but a new suit of clothes will never carry off an old hat, so I
likes to keep my hat in good order in a general way). Well, jist as I
had done, in walks the porter’s first leftenant; and sais he, ‘Mr. Tact
will see you, Sir.’
“‘He come plaguy near not seein’ of me, then,’ sais I; ‘for I had jist
commenced makin’ tracks as you come in. The next time he sends for me,
tell him not to send till he is ready, will you? For it’s a rule o’ mine
to tag arter no man.’
“The critter jist stopped short, and began to see whether that spelt
treason or no. He never heerd freedom o’ speech afore, that feller, I
guess, unless it was somebody a jawin’ of him, up hill and down dale; so
sais I, ‘Lead off, my old ‘coon, and I will foller you, and no mistake,
if you blaze the line well.’
“So he led me up stairs, opened a door, and ‘nounced me; and there was
Mr. Tact, sittin’ at a large table, all alone.
“‘How do you do, Mr. Slick,’ says he. ‘I am very glad to see you. Pray
be seated.’ He really was a very gentlemanlike man, was Squire Tact,
that’s a fact. Sorry I kept you waitin’ so long,’ sais he, ‘but the
Turkish Ambassador was here at the time, and I was compelled to wait
until he went. I sent for you, Sir, a-hem!’ and he rubbed his hand
acrost his mouth, and looked’ up at the cornish, and said, ‘I sent for
you, Sir, ahem!’--(thinks I, I see now. All you will say for half an
hour is only throw’d up for a brush fence, to lay down behind to take
aim through; and arter that, the first shot is the one that’s aimed at
the bird), ‘to explain to you about this African Slave Treaty,’ said he.
‘Your government don’t seem to comprehend me in reference to this Right
of Sarch. Lookin’ a man in the face, to see he is the right man, and
sarchin’ his pockets, are two very different things. You take, don’t
you?’
“‘I’m up to snuff, Sir,’ sais I, ‘and no mistake.’ I know’d well enough
that warn’t what he sent for me for, by the way he humm’d and hawed when
he began.
“‘Taking up a trunk, as every hotel-keeper does and has a right to
do, and examinin’ the name on the brass plate to the eend on’t, is one
thing; forcin’ the lock and ransackin’ the contents, is another. One is
precaution, the other is burglary.’
“‘It tante burglary,’ sais I, ‘unless the lodger sleeps in his trunk.
It’s only--’
“‘Well,’ says he, a colourin’ up, ‘that’s technical. I leave these
matters to my law officers.’
“I larnt that little matter of law from brother Eldad, the lawyer, but
I guess I was wrong there. I don’t think I had ought to have given him
that sly poke; but I didn’t like his talkin’ that way to me. Whenever a
feller tries to pull the wool over your eyes, it’s a sign he don’t think
high of your onderstandin’. It isn’t complimental, that’s a fact. ‘One
is a serious offence, I mean, sais he; ‘the other is not. We don’t want
to sarch; we only want to look a slaver in the face, and see whether
he is a free and enlightened American or not. If he is, the _flag of
liberty_ protects him and _his slaves_; if he ain’t, it don’t protect
him, nor them nother.’
“Then he did a leadin’ article on slavery, and a paragraph on
non-intervention, and spoke a little soft sawder about America, and
wound up by askin’ me if he had made himself onderstood.
“‘Plain as a boot-jack,’ sais I.
“When that was over, he took breath. He sot back on his chair, put one
leg over the other, and took a fresh departur’ agin.
“‘I have read your books, Mr. Slick,’ said he, ‘and read ‘em, too, with
great pleasure. You have been a great traveller in your day. You’ve been
round the world a’most, haven’t you?’
“‘Well,’ sais I, ‘I sharn’t say I hante.’
“‘What a deal of information a man of your observation must have
acquired.’ (He is a gentlemanly man, that you may depend. I don’t know
when I’ve see’d one so well mannered.)
“‘Not so much, Sir, as you would suppose,’ sais I.
“‘Why how so?’ sais he.
“‘Why,’ sais I, ‘the first time a man goes round the world, he is plaguy
skeered for fear of fallin’ off the edge; the second time he gets used
to it, and larns a good deal.’
“‘Fallin’ off the edge!’ sais he; ‘what an original idea that is. That’s
one of your best. I like your works for that they are original. We have
nothin’ but imitations now. Fallin’ off the the edge, that’s capital. I
must tell Peel that; for he is very fond of that sort of thing.’
“He was a very pretty spoken man, was Mr. Tact; he is quite the
gentleman, that’s a fact. I love to hear him talk; he is so very
perlite, and seems to take a likin’ to me parsonally.”
Few men are so open to flattery as Mr. Slick; and although “soft sawder”
is one of the artifices he constantly uses in his intercourse with
others, he is often thrown off of his guard by it himself. How much
easier it is to discover the weaknesses of others than to see our own!
But to resume the story.
“‘You have been a good deal in the colonies, haven’t you?’ said he.
“‘Considerable sum,’ sais I. Now, sais I to myself, this is the rael
object he sent for me for; but I won’t tell him nothin’. If he’d a up
and askt me right off the reel, like a man, he’d a found me up to the
notch; but he thort to play me off. Now I’ll sarve him out his own way;
so here goes.
“‘Your long acquaintance with the provinces, and familiar intercourse
with the people,’ sais he, ‘must have made you quite at home on all
colonial topics.’
“‘I thought so once,’ sais I; ‘but I don’t think so now no more, Sir.’
“‘Why how is that?’ sais he.
“‘Why, Sir,’ sais I, ‘you can hold a book so near your eyes as not to be
able to read a word of it; hold it off further, and get the right focus,
and you can read beautiful. Now the right distance to see a colony, and
know all about it, is England. Three thousand miles is the right focus
for a political spy-glass. A man livin’ here, and who never was out of
England, knows twice as much about the provinces as I do.’
“‘Oh, you are joking,’ sais he.
“Not a bit,’ sais I. ‘I find folks here that not only know every thing
about them countries, but have no doubts upon any matter, and ask no
questions; in fact, they not only know more than me, but more than the
people themselves do, what they want. It’s curious, but it’s a fact. A
colonist is the most beautiful crittur in natur to try experiments on,
you ever see; for he is so simple and good-natured he don’t know no
better; and so weak, he couldn’t help himself if he did. There’s great
fun in making these experiments, too. It puts me in mind of “Gander
Pulling;” you know what this is, don’t you?’
“‘No,’ he said. ‘I never heard of it. Is it an American sport?’
“‘Yes,’ sais I, ‘it is; and the most excitin’ thing, too, you ever see.’
“‘You are a very droll man. Mr Slick,’ said he, ‘a very droll man
indeed. In all your books there is a great deal of fun; but in all
your fun, there is a meanin’. Your jokes hit, and hit pretty hard, too,
sometimes. They make a man think as well as laugh. But, describe this
Gander Pulling.’
“‘Well, I’ll tell you how it is,’ sais I. ‘First and foremost, a
ring-road is formed, like a small race-course; then, two great long
posts is fixed into the ground, one on each side of the road, and a rope
made fast by the eends to each post, leavin’ the middle of the rope to
hang loose in a curve. Well, then they take a gander and pick his neck
as clean as a babby’s, and then grease it most beautiful all the way
from the breast to the head, till it becomes as slippery as a soaped
eel. Then they tie both his legs together with a strong piece of cord,
of the size of a halyard, and hang him by the feet to the middle of the
swingin’ rope, with his head downward. All the youngsters, all round the
county, come to see the sport, mounted a horseback.
“‘Well, the owner of the goose goes round with his hat, and gets so much
a-piece in it from every one that enters for the “Pullin’;” and when all
have entered, they bring their hosses in a line, one arter another; and
at the words, ‘Go ahead!’ off they set, as hard as they can split; and
as they pass under the goose, make a grab at him; and whoever carries
off the head, wins.
“‘Well, the goose dodges his head and flaps his wings, and swings about
so, it ain’t no easy matter to clutch his neck; and when you do, it’s so
greasy, it slips right through the fingers, like, nothin’. Sometimes it
takes so long, that the hosses are fairly beat out, and can’t scarcely
raise a gallop; and then a man stands by the post, with a heavy loaded
whip, to lash ‘em on, so that they mayn’t stand under the goose, which
ain’t fair. The whoopin’, and hollerin’, and screamin’, and bettin’,
and excitement, beats all; there ain’t hardly no sport equal to it. It’s
great fun _to all except the poor goosey-gander_.
“‘The game of colony government to Canady, for some years back, puts me
in mind of that exactly. Colonist has had his heels put where his head
used to be, this some time past. He has had his legs tied, and his neck
properly greased, I tell _you_; and the way every parliament man, and
governor, and secretary, gallops round and round, one arter another, a
grabbin’ at poor colonist, ain’t no matter. Every new one on ‘em that
comes, is confident he is a goin’ to settle it; but it slips through his
hand, and off he goes, properly larfed at.
“‘They have pretty nearly fixed goosey colonist, though; he has got his
neck wrung several times; it’s twisted all a one side, his tongue hangs
out, and he squeaks piteous, that’s a fact. Another good grab or two
will put him out o’ pain; and it’s a pity it wouldn’t, for no created
critter can live long, turned wrong eend up, that way. But the sport
will last long arter that; for arter his neck is broke, it ain’t no easy
matter to get the head off; the cords that tie that on, are as thick
as your finger. It’s the greatest fun out there you ever see, _to all
except poor goosey colonist_.
“‘I’ve larfed ready to kill myself at it. Some o’ these Englishers that
come out, mounted for the sport, and expect a peerage as a reward for
bringin’ home the head and settlin’ the business for colonist, do cut
such figurs, it would make you split; and they are all so everlastin’
consaited, they won’t take no advice. The way they can’t do it is
cautionary. One gets throwed, another gets all covered with grease, a
third loses his hat, a fourth gets run away with by his horse, a fifth
sees he can’t do it, makes some excuse, and leaves the ground afore the
sport is over; and now and then, an unfortunate critter gets a hyste
that breaks his own neck. There is only one on ‘em that I have see’d out
there, that can do it right.
“It requires some experience, that’s a fact. But let John Bull alone for
that; he is a critter that thinks he knows every thing; and if you told
him he didn’t, he wouldn’t believe you, not he. He’d only pity your
ignorance, and look dreadful sorry for you. Oh if you want to see high
life, come and see “a colonial gander pulling.”
“‘Tying up a goose, Sir, is no great harm,’ sais I, ‘seein’ that a goose
was made to be killed, picked and devoured, and nothin’ else. Tyin’ up
a colonist by the heels is another thing. I don’t think it right; but
I don’t know nothin’; I’ve had the book too close to my eyes. Joe H--e,
that never was there, can tell you twice as much as I can about the
colonies. The focus to see right, as I said afore, is three thousand
miles off.’
“‘Well,’ sais he, ‘that’s a capital illustration, Mr. Slick. There is
more in that than meets the ear. Don’t tell me you don’t know nothin’
about the colonies; few men know so much as you do. I wish to heavens
you was a colonist,’ sais he; ‘if you were, I would offer you a
government.’
“‘I don’t doubt it,’ sais I; ‘seein’ that your department have advanced
or rewarded so many colonists already.’ But I don’t think he heard that
shot, and I warn’t sorry for it; for it’s not right to be a pokin’ it
into a perlite man, is it?
“‘I must tell the Queen that story of _the Gander Pulling_,’ sais he; ‘I
like it amazingly. It’s a capital caricature. I’ll send the idea to H.
B. Pray name some day when you are disengaged; I hope you will give me
the pleasure of dining with me. Will this day fortnight suit you?’
“‘Thank you,’ sais I, ‘I shall have great pleasure.’
“He railly was a gentlemany man that. He was so good natured, and took
the joke so well, I was kinder sorry I played it off on him. I hante
see’d no man to England I affection so much as Mr. Tact, I swear! I
begin to think, arter all, it was the right of _sarchin’ vessels_ he
wanted to talk to me about, instead of _sarchin’ me_, as I suspicioned.
It don’t do always _to look for motives, men often act without any_. The
next time, if he axes me, I’ll talk plain, and jist tell him what I
_do_ think; but still, if he reads that riddle right, he may larn a good
deal, too, from the story of “the Gander Pulling,” mayn’t he?”