as did Senator Fairfield, "too much of an old granny." In 1839 he had been given 57 votes at the Whig Presidential convention, and of late the brilliancy of his political anticipations had made him look "ten feet high," said Corwin. His want of reverence for the President's decision respecting brevet rank had led Polk and Benton to think of banishing him to a post on the northern frontier. General Gaines and his many friends had long hated him; and Mrs. Gaines insisted that no one was "much," whose lips could be covered with a button. Finally, he was called vain, and so he appeared to he.[1]
But the ostentation that won him the nickname "Old Fuss and Feathers," in addition to being much exaggerated by report, was doubtless attributable in large measure to military policy and respect for his rank. NO one ever saw it interfere with serious affairs, and one who could remark on the weak point of his own personal appearance, the point ridiculed by Mrs. Gaines, was not so extremely vain after all. The right word for Scott was egotism. Now egotism—in others—is doubtless a shocking trait; yet merely to seem aware of what everybody knows, does not, as many think it does, convert merits into demerits. General Scott had a magnificent presence —fully six feet and four inches of height and a corresponding weight—the brightest fame as an intrepid soldier, the honor of a long and eminent career, the first place in our army, a high social position, superior talents and attainments, unusual knowledge of the world, charming personal graces, and a character of rare quality powerful, gentle and true. That he did not dissemble nor cloak his value was a fault; but those who felt entitled to censure him, merely because they had no such merits to be aware of, were somewhat in error.[2]
Besides, almost every great artist is egotistical, and Scott was a great artist. In more ways than one this was true. He could instruct the baker in the mysteries of making bread, and superintend ably the roasting of a ham; damn his delighted black body-servant for hiding everything and then hiding himself; rave at an admiring guest for cutting lettuce instead of rolling it round his fork, or lament in tragic tones at whist that he had to play against three; and the next moment-he would be analyzing a campaign of Turenne, monologuing
