Marse Henry | Page 6

loafer gets a letter from a
candidate for President and talks it over with the keeper of a livery
stable? What have such people to do with such things?"
My father said: "My son, Mr. Kimball is an estimable man. He has
been an important and popular Democrat in New Hampshire. He is not
without influence here. The Frank they talked about is Gen. Franklin
Pierce, of New Hampshire, an old friend and neighbor of Mr. Kimball.

General Pierce served in Congress with me and some of us are thinking
that we may nominate him for President. The 'big old loafer,' as you
call him, was Mr. John C. Rives, a most distinguished and influential
Democrat indeed."
Three months later, when the event came to pass, I could tell all about
Gen. Franklin Pierce. His nomination was no surprise to me, though to
the country at large it was almost a shock. He had been nowhere
seriously considered.
In illustration of this a funny incident recurs to me. At Nashville the
night of the nomination a party of Whigs and Democrats had gathered
in front of the principal hotel waiting for the arrival of the news, among
the rest Sam Bugg and Chunky Towles, two local gamblers, both
undoubting Democrats. At length Chunky Towles, worn out, went off
to bed. The result was finally flashed over the wires. The crowd was
nonplused. "Who the hell is Franklin Pierce?" passed from lip to lip.
Sam Bugg knew his political catechism well. He proceeded at length to
tell all about Franklin Pierce, ending with the opinion that he was the
man wanted and would be elected hands down, and he had a thousand
dollars to bet on it.
Then he slipped away to tell his pal.
"Wake up, Chunky," he cried. "We got a candidate--Gen. Franklin
Pierce, of New Hampshire."
"Who the----"
"Chunky," says Sam. "I am ashamed of your ignorance. Gen. Franklin
Pierce is the son of Gen. Benjamin Pierce, of Revolutionary fame. He
has served in both houses of Congress. He declined a seat in Polk's
Cabinet. He won distinction in the Mexican War. He is the very
candidate we've been after."
"In that case," says Chunky, "I'll get up." When he reappeared Petway,
the Whig leader of the gathering, who had been deriding the convention,

the candidate and all things else Democratic, exclaimed:
"Here comes Chunky Towles. He's a good Democrat; and I'll bet ten to
one he never heard of Franklin Pierce in his life before."
Chunky Towles was one of the handsomest men of his time. His strong
suit was his unruffled composure and cool self-control. "Mr. Petway,"
says he, "you would lose your money, and I won't take advantage of
any man's ignorance. Besides, I never gamble on a certainty. Gen.
Franklin Pierce, sir, is a son of Gen. Benjamin Pierce of Revolutionary
memory. He served in both houses of Congress, sir--refused a seat in
Polk's Cabinet, sir--won distinction in the Mexican War, sir. He has
been from the first my choice, and I've money to bet on his election."
Franklin Pierce had an only son, named Benny, after his grandfather,
the Revolutionary hero. He was of my own age. I was planning the
good time we were going to have in the White House when tidings
came that he had been killed in a railway accident. It was a grievous
blow, from which the stricken mother never recovered. One of the most
vivid memories and altogether the saddest episode of my childhood is
that a few weeks later I was carried up to the Executive Mansion,
which, all formality and marble, seemed cold enough for a mausoleum,
where a lady in black took me in her arms and convulsively held me
there, weeping as if her heart would break.

V
Sometimes a fancy, rather vague, comes to me of seeing the soldiers go
off to the Mexican War and of making flags striped with pokeberry
juice--somehow the name of the fruit was mingled with that of the
President--though a visit quite a year before to The Hermitage, which
adjoined the farm of an uncle, to see General Jackson is still uneffaced.
I remember it vividly. The old hero dandled me in his arms, saying "So
this is Harvey's boy," I looking the while in vain for the "hickory," of
which I had heard so much.

On the personal side history owes General Jackson reparation. His
personality needs indeed complete reconstruction in the popular mind,
which misconceives him a rough frontiersman having few or none of
the social graces. In point of fact he came into the world a gentleman, a
leader, a knight-errant who captivated women and dominated men.
I shared when a young man the common belief about him. But there is
ample proof of the