CHAPTER IV. THE GANDER PULLING.
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?”