A Woman's Estate (22 page)

Looking rather startled, Sabrina asked, “Is that generally
known in America?”

Abigail frowned. “Yes. Well, I believe so. The story was
published in the
National
Intelligencer
and other newspapers.”
Then she smiled. “Of course, we have our Lord and Lady Vernons and Mr. and Mrs.
Basingstokes, too. There are none so blind and deaf as those who
will
not hear or see.”

“And what was the reaction?” Leonie asked.

“It would depend upon what part of the country,” Abigail
replied, “but I believe it was generally favorable. I know that President
Madison and his Cabinet are very strongly in favor of the mediation.”

“There!” Leonie commented forcefully. “I have said from the
beginning that the Americans do not want Canada. What would they want with a
large, cold wilderness? They have more than enough of their own since Jefferson
bought Louisiana from the French.”

“Certainly no one in the New England states wants Canada,”
Abigail agreed carefully, “and if there were such ambitions in some of the
western states, like Ohio, I think they have reconsidered.”

“Is this all general knowledge?” Sabrina asked. “I mean are
you sure the desire for peace is serious?”

“I have a better source than most,” Abigail confessed,
smiling. “The Secretary of the Treasury, which is the most important office
next to that of the President, is my trustee and dear friend. In fact, that is
how I know President Madison is totally committed to the Russian mediation. He is
sending Mr. Albert Gallatin to join Mr. Adams, the Russian ambassador, and
several others to be commissioners to negotiate the peace.”

“To Russia?” Leonie asked. Simultaneously Sabrina repeated,
“Is sending. Forgive me, Abigail, and do not answer if you do not wish, but
surely this is…er…not an ordinary, chatty piece of news.”

“No, but Albert had to explain that he could no longer
manage my property, and he knows how eagerly I desire peace, so he wrote what
he knew I would feel was good news.”

“But it is not!” Leonie exclaimed. “How could the President
assume England would agree? I know the offer of mediation was refused firmly
last winter.”

“The Americans were not interested last winter, either,”
Abigail said. “It was only in the early spring, before I left New York, that
the President accepted Dashkov’s suggestion. I am sure it was hinted by the
Russians that this government had also reconsidered.”

“Not at all—and there is no chance they ever will,” Sabrina
said.

“That is disgusting!” Abigail exploded. “But your fine
armies will do you no good in America. If you think that you can
win
a
war, you are very wrong!”

“Hush!” Leonie whispered. “Remember, we promised not to
shout in Violet’s drawing room.”

“I am sorry I raised my voice.” Abigail spoke more quietly,
but her color was high and her eyes blazing. “But I am not at all sorry for
what I said. If the English government believes the United States can be
conquered, they are utter fools. It could not be done thirty years ago, and the
population has now nearly doubled. There will be no pitched battles with your
red-coated soldiers, but little boys as well as grown men will shoot them from
behind the trees. They will all fight—even the women.”

“We had heard that the New England states might rather
welcome us.”

The male voice behind her made Abigail start. She was
surprised that the men had spent so little time with the wine and thought she
saw some looks of discontent cast at Arthur—but not from Roger, who had placed
a hand affectionately on his wife’s shoulder, or from Perce, who came around
the sofa on which she and Sabrina were sitting to stand in front of her. But
she was not about to back down and looked boldly up into Perce’s face.

“You heard that from that blithering idiot Francis Jackson,
I suppose,” Abigail said. “New England opposed declaring war, but not, I assure
you, because they wish to accept colonial status. They will fight as hard as
any other to keep England out. I cannot imagine how such blind fools obtain
appointments in the diplomatic service. Does the government
wish
to be
misinformed?”

“Certainly,” Arthur said, grinning. “It is dangerous and
costly but far preferable to needing to think about something unpleasant.” Then
he looked at his family reprovingly. “Who set her on fire this time? I warn
you, she has a flammable disposition. She told me so herself.”

“Be quiet, Arthur,” Roger said seriously. “Abigail has
something to say that is worth hearing. My dear, we are not baiting you, and I
agree wholeheartedly that Jackson’s manner is not conciliating—”

“To say the least,” Abigail interrupted. “And that is all
wrong for dealing with Americans. Because he was sympathetic, Mr. Erskine
obtained a most useful agreement. And if your government had not issued threats
and deadlines through Mr. Baker after the news of the cancellation of the
Orders in Council—”

“The American government is as much at fault,” Arthur cut
her off loudly, “and no better at appointing diplomats. Your Mr. Russell could
not wait to get his bags packed and brush the soil of Britain from his heels.”

“And I do not blame him!” Abigail’s voice rose also. “Since
the only replies he received to the second, more moderate message the President
sent concerning grounds for revoking the declaration of war was that it was
‘more covert and therefore more objectionable’, what had he to stay for?”

“Children!” Leonie cried. “The drawing room is neutral
ground. Sheathe your weapons.”

“Let us abandon the subject of who is to blame,” Roger
suggested. “It is too late to worry about that now. I am really interested in
why Abigail is so sure the New England states are as opposed to making peace as
the western states.”

“Opposed to making peace? Not at all!” Abigail exclaimed. “I
do not think any of the states are opposed to making peace. I was just telling
Sabrina that Mr. Gallatin is leaving—no, he must have already left—for Russia
to be part of a commission to make peace. But Sabrina said that
England
was not willing to make peace.”

“No, we have misunderstood each other,” Sabrina said. “I
meant there was no chance the Russian offer of mediation would be accepted.”

Abigail looked from one face to another. “Is that not the
same thing? Now that Bonaparte is so much weaker, does not the British
government think it can crush the United States completely?”

“Bonaparte may be weaker,” Perce put in, “but I don’t think
anyone discounts his ability to produce surprises. What I think you fail to
understand, Abigail, is that the British refusal of Russian mediation has
little to do with not wanting peace. What Britain does not want is the Russians
meddling in her affairs. Tsar Alexander may be opposed to Bonaparte, but that
does not mean he likes the English—and Rumiantsev comes near to loathing us.”

Abigail caught the implication at once. “Can you mean that
the whole offer to mediate peace was an attempt by Count Rumiantsev to make
trouble?”

“Heaven knows what he has in mind,” Perce said. “But no, I
do not mean to leave you with the impression that Rumiantsev is mad or that he
does not wish to help America if he can. He is, in fact, a most astute person.
The offer to mediate peace comes from two causes. The first is simple. Russia
and almost every other nation in the world wish to see British maritime power
curbed.”

“Well, that is certainly unfair, but—”

“Do you want to understand what is happening or don’t you?”
Arthur challenged. “Listen for a minute.”

“Sorry,” Abigail said meekly.

Perce laughed. “I do tend to run on, and this is a dinner
party. Why don’t we—”

“Please,” Abigail urged, “I am not being polite. I am truly interested.
One of my dearest friends has set out on a long and dangerous mission. Please
tell me why it must be useless.”

The sincerity in Abigail’s voice convinced Perce. It also
startled Arthur. One of her “dearest friends”? What did that mean? And about
whom was she speaking? In all their conversations, she had never mentioned any
deep regret for a friend left behind.

“The second reason Rumiantsev offered Russian mediation is
very complex because it involves both Tsar Alexander’s personality and the form
of the Russian government.” He watched Abigail’s face, but it was absorbed and
intent. Clearly she had been honest when she said she was interested. “England
is a monarchy,” he went on, “but the government, with the agreement of
Parliament, really holds the power, not the king. In Russia the tsar still
rules absolutely. Often our poor king—or at present the regent—dislikes the
ministers with whom he must work. This can cause some difficulty, and
compromises are made, but the tsar need make no compromises. If he becomes
disillusioned with a minister, the minister is dismissed.”

“You are oversimplifying, Perce,” Roger said.

Perce nodded. “A little, but not in any way that will affect
what I am trying to explain to Abigail. For reasons that would take far too
long to detail, Count Rumiantsev has lost much of Alexander’s confidence. On
the other hand, Rumiantsev is an old man, partly crippled by a stroke, and
Alexander is too kind to take away his office. Tsar Alexander is a good man. He
has high ideals. He sees himself at this time as the savior of Europe. The
result is that Rumiantsev hopes that he can provide his master with an
opportunity to mediate a peace with the western continent, thereby allowing him
to think of himself as the savior not only of Europe but of the
world
.
Thus, he will reestablish himself in his master’s good opinion.”

Abigail shrugged. “So his purposes have an element of
selfishness. I cannot see that as a valid reason to throw away an opportunity
to end a stupid, useless war.”

“Ah, but you have forgotten the primary reason Rumiantsev
has, the envy of Britain’s maritime power,” Roger pointed out. “A mediator must
be neutral, and I am afraid, Alexander is
not
neutral about British
maritime strength. Since it is principally maritime problems that are the basis
of the present conflict—”

“What you mean is that England is afraid the tsar will agree
with America,” Abigail interrupted.

“Afraid?” Arthur snapped. “It is not a question of fear. The
British do not choose to wash family linen in public.”

“The United States,” Abigail snapped back, “is no longer
part of the British ‘family’. Perhaps if you could get that through your thick
heads, a great deal of trouble could be avoided.”

“Abigail has a good point,” Violet said calmly before Arthur
could reply at the top of his lungs, which he clearly intended. She joined
their circle and seated herself in an armchair opposite Leonie. “I have always
said there are few heads thicker than those of the men at the head of the
government. It is probably either a necessary or an acquired condition. So many
brickbats are thrown at their heads. Doubtless they get hard from the constant
pounding.”

Everyone laughed, and the tension dissipated. “But the
problem remains,” Abigail sighed. “To say the government has thick heads and
should think in a way they do not will not end the war.”

“I do not know what
will
end it if the Americans
insist on Russian mediation.” Roger shook his head.

“What does that mean, Roger?” Arthur asked. “Is the
government willing to negotiate directly?”

“I cannot give an absolute answer, but I know they would
consider
direct negotiations seriously, whereas they will fight until doomsday rather
than let Tsar Alexander mediate.”

“Well, what would your dear friend say to that?” Arthur
asked Abigail aggressively. “I think perhaps your ‘dear friend’ on the peace
commission would be afraid to negotiate without a biased mediator to support
him.”

The emphasis on “dear friend” almost wiped the importance of
the political discussion from Abigail’s mind. Arthur’s jealousy brought his
role as lover to the forefront of Abigail’s mind, and she answered him without
heat. “I don’t know. I don’t think Albert would object to direct negotiations,
but the decision is not his, and unless he knows there is that possibility… I
don’t understand how matters got to this state. Why has your government not
made clear to Count Rumiantsev that you will not negotiate through Russia?”

“My dear,” Perce said, “we have tried our best to make it
clear. I believe Lord Cathcart has all but shouted in his ear and drummed on
the table. What is more, we have communicated our unwillingness directly to the
tsar. You said yourself there are none so deaf as those who
will
not
hear. Perhaps Rumiantsev believes he can convince us, or perhaps it only suits
his purposes to feed Alexander’s vanity with American applications for his
help.”

“You mean you think Rumiantsev is not telling Mr. Adams the
truth?” Abigail asked.

“Unless it is Mr. Adams who does not wish to hear,” Arthur
remarked.

Abigail shook her head and smiled wryly. “Oh, no. If there
is bad news, Mr. Adams will hear it. He is a very good man and a very clever
man, but not at all a cheerful one.”

“You seem to know
everyone
in the government,” Roger
commented.

“No, only those who lived in the New England states and who
are readers. You see, most of them would stop in New York on the way home from
Philadelphia or, more recently, Washington, and they would come to buy books
from—from my father’s favorite bookseller.”

Abigail was appalled at what she had almost let slip and
became much more cautious about answering other questions. In fact, she took
much less part in the conversation, which quickly moved to Wellington’s
maneuvers in Spain and what Bonaparte’s answer would be when Metternich presented
an offer of mediation on relatively generous terms, the dissolution of the
Duchy of Warsaw, the liberation of Hamburg, the withdrawal of all French troops
from Prussia’s territory, and the restoration of Dalmatia to Austria. Abigail
listened without close attention while Arthur protested that Bonaparte must be
deposed because he would keep any treaty he signed only until he had gathered
strength enough to break it, and Perce shrugged and said he did not think it
mattered what terms were offered, because Bonaparte was contemptuous of the
forces ranged against him and would not accept terms.