"That was a great speech!" America congratulated, removing his sopping jacket, once they finally escaped the crowd. The young Nation was reminded of those years ago, when a similar occurrence had happened with Jackson, albeit on a grater scale.
Harrison smiled back at him, stifling a cough, as he shivered—he hadn't worn a coat, determined to prove that his strength still remained. "Indeed, if only the weather hadn't been so bad. But one's got to make do with what they get, I suppose."
"Yeah," America grinned contently, shaking the water from his hair. In the process he managed to get some on the new president. Just as he was about to apologize, the older man began laughing, the young Nation joining in.
"Sir," a maid interrupted, holding out two towels to the both of them. Gratefully, they thanked her, and began making use of the cloths.
It was weird, having a new president already. His time with Van Buren had flown, remotely uneventful: his cold had quickly passed. The man had been calm and collected, persuasive when he needed to be, and polite. It was a wonder how he and Jackson had gotten along, the two were so different.
But there had been that squabble about Texas. America still remembered Van Buren's guarded expression, his stiffness in answering questions. And the glasses had remained on that desk to this day, a constant reminder of the occasion. Perhaps Harrison would be more receptive.
"Are you feeling all right?" America commented several weeks later as the two sat in office, enjoying an unusually quiet day. Since Harrison's inauguration, office-seekers had been in near constantly, pestering and buzzing about all manner of things.
Harrison covered another cough, sniffing slightly. "Just a cold," he assured, sneezing.
"G'bless," America replied automatically, before continuing on, concerned. "Are you sure? I don't mean to be offensive, sir, but you don't look very well."
"It's nothing some good rest won't sort out," Harrison reassured once more, brushing the matter off.
"That's just the thing," America pushed on, not one to be deterred. "You haven't been getting enough rest with all these people in and out constantly. We can keep them out for a little bit…surely your health must come first?"
"I'm the president," Harrison laughed with a smile. "I can't just turn my people away from me."
"Yeah," America returned the expression, the concern lifted from his heart.
Only to return with full force mere days later, and then some.
"Mr. America!" someone shouted, followed my hurried knocks on the door.
America startled at his name, running a hand over his face as he pulled on an overcoat, before hurrying to the door. "Yes?"
"The President is sick," the man announced, turning out to be none other than Clay. He'd been pestering Harrison lately, trying to control the government from the sidelines, if he could not be president—the man was persist, if nothing else—but now his voice was laced with pure concern, his tone shaking ever so slightly. "He wanted to see you. It's not looking too well."
Wordlessly, America followed the other man through the halls, eventually reaching Harrison's bedroom.
"America," the man greeted, when the young Nation stepped in. A few lights were on, casting shadows over the president's now paled skin, accentuating the bags under his eyes to make him look almost ghastly.
"Mr. Harrison, sir, what happened?" America came closer, kneeling on the floor beside his president's bed so that the man would not have to raise his voice.
"Oddest thing…I feel fine before," he broke off into a series of coughs. They continued on for a stretch, before he found his voice again. "I want to go see my wife. And you were right, I need my rest…I'm not going to get that here."
"I understand," America nodded, a reassuring smile on his face. "I'll go with—"
A shake of Clay's head cut him off before he could finish, but Harrison could guessed the rest. "I'd rather you stay here, America. I'll hopefully be up running again soon, but I would like it if you stayed here and kept track of things. I trust you to do what's best…coughcough…for our people."
"I…I understand," America repeated, voice steady though his hands were shaking.
"That's a boy," Harrison grinned, clapping him weakly on the arm.
The president left the next morning, after sorting out the necessary measures.
Nine days later, they received notice that, despite the best efforts of his doctors, the president had passed away.
"Sir, I wish you to understand the true principles of the government. I wish them carried out. I ask nothing more."
His last words. America looked away from the other men gathered in the office, Vice president Tyler, now the president, Clay and Webster, not wanting them to see the tears he knew would come. They always came, no matter how hard he tried to stop them.
But as he stood there, hands shaking, they did not come. And perhaps that bothered him more than the constant stream of tears.
Historical Notes: In the Election of 1840, the Democrats ran Van Buren with vice president of Richard Johnson, the killer of Tecumseh in the War of 1812. The Whigs chose to run General William Henry Harrison, with vice president John Tyler. They promoted Harrison as an average American, saying he lived in a log cabin and drank ordinary hard cider. In reality, he came from a distinguished family, the son of Benjamin Harrison, a signer of the Declaration of Independence and a former governor of Virginia. He was well educated, wealthy enough to live comfortably, and did not live in a log cabin by any means; still the Whigs ignored this and continued on with their "Log Cabin Campaign". The Whigs contrasted him from Harrison, as 'an aristocrat that dined off gold plates, and drank foreign wine'. The Whigs also boasted of Harrison's military record and reputation as the hero of the Battle of Tippecanoe, their campaign slogan, "Tippecanoe and Tyler, too".
Harrison was very popular, against the 'high-class' Van Buren, winning the election 234 to 60. He had no plans to be an aggressive leader, believing Jackson had overused the veto. Like Washington, he planned to reinforce separation of legislative and executive powers. This delighted the Whigs, who had had enough of Jackson's pushiness. But John Henry Clay and Daniel Webster both tried to gain influence over the president, Clay going so far as to put forth his preferences for Cabinet offices and other presidential appointments. Eventually Harrison got fed up with Clay's pressuring, and ordered the man not to visit the White House again, rather write to him only in letters.
Harrison delivered the longest inauguration speech of American History, even after Webster edited it for length. And to prove his strength, he decided to wear neither a coat, nor a hat. The speech lasted nearly two hours on a cold wet day. Washington was flooded by office seekers after the inaugural parade, open at that time to any who wanted to meet with the president. When Harrison began feeling ill, he could not find a quiet room to rest. He died of pneumonia contracted during his inauguration speech, becoming ill March 26th and dying nine days later on April 4th. Harrison was the first US President to die while in office.
I meant to have this up earlier, but I decided to be studious and finish my research paper on Huck Finn for English first. That and this chapter didn't want to come. Not quite as thrilled with it as I was last chapter…so I might look over it again later. Either way, the Mexican-American War should be coming up soon, and I have a question to ask.
Should I create a personification for Mexico? In my mind, Mexico would be a girl…not that I'm trying to be sexist or anything. I am a girl, for those of you that aren't aware, so I wouldn't be sexist against myself. I will probably remain vague on the details of her, but any comments or suggestions are welcome. I won't necessarily use them, but I will definitely take them all into consideration ^^ So just views on the subject I guess. Thank you all for reading!