The Dominion's Dilemma: The United States of British America (49 page)

         Andre not only had the proprietress wrapped around his finger, but he also seemed to be gaining the allegiance of the strange man behind the bar. Since his return, the Russian had shared several meals---and bottles---with Lawrence. Andre actually seemed willing and able to tolerate the fellow’s company for extended periods: why, just Sunday, they had gone riding. This Saturday afternoon, according to Lawrence, they were going into Maryland to try out a new rifle Andre had apparently purchased. “And he’s promised to show me how to shoot targets with a pistol,” Richard had bragged a little while ago.

___________

USBAA Southern Command HQ

New Orleans, Louisiana

May 11, 1833:

          Colonel Zachary Taylor was enraged: personally, professionally and personally-professionally.

        And when Colonel Taylor, a hardnosed, no-nonsense type---he had risen to fame by successfully defending a miserable Indiana outpost, Fort Harrison, against an overwhelming attack by French-armed Indians under the great Tecumseh himself back in the ‘10s---was enraged, both his family and staff knew enough to scatter. That’s why he was alone in his office his afternoon.

          The Colonel had plenty of cause, in his view, to be damned enraged.

          He had just received a report from the Nacogdoches country that Sam Houston was definitely in Mexican Texas and had allied himself with that pompous young fool, William Travis, to talk insurrection against the Mexican authorities. Now he would have to write Winfield Scott that Houston had slipped through his hands. If Houston, Travis and the others got Stephen F. Austin to join them, there’d be hell to pay. New Orleans---all Louisiana---would demand he go to their aid if Santa Anna marched north! He wouldn’t be able to lift a finger, of course, unless-and-until Georgetown gave the okay, which would make life in the Bayou rather uncomfortable for him and his command…

          That was professional. Personally, Zach, though Virginian-born, had been in the Army all his life; hell, he’d never been in one place long enough to qualify to vote in a gubernatorial-general plebiscite, including the last one! Sure, he owned a few house servants: with five kids and him gone so much, Mary deserved a household staff!
But this
emancipation thing, now….

          He was no politician---leave that to old Scott---and he hadn’t much of a formal education. But he could read. And the G-G’s speech up in Mississippi last year (which he had read only after getting back from the Black Hawk War in October) made it perfectly clear what Jackson wanted: Texas and the rest of the Mexican West taken in to form more slave states. He wasn’t sure that was a good thing; he’d been up North enough to sense a vigor and vitality in the free states that wasn’t present in the South. Now Calhoun was practically blackmailing Georgetown: get the South an exemption from this Empire-wide abolition…or the South goes its own way!

      This Dominion deal has worked pretty well since old Franklin and the boys cooked it up. I’m not at all ready to leave. But I’m a Southerner. How the hell I go against my own people
?

         Speaking of ‘own’ just got him madder. He’d thought dragging that damn hot-headed young fool Davis with him up to Illinois would be enough to cool off the Lieutenant’s romance with Sarah Knox… But Mary was warning him that the young people had not only corresponded during the fighting, but had resumed their courtship right here under his nose since he and the staff had returned! He should have ordered Davis to take leave when they sailed down the Mississippi; he understood Davis’ brother owned a big plantation near Natchez. It wasn’t that 1
^st
Lt. Jefferson Davis was a coward; far from it! The boy was a natural-born soldier. He’d eventually lead troops out West.

    
That’s one problem: I’ll be damned if any daughter of mine is going to marry into this man’s Army! Mary’s a saint to have put up with the separations. I don’t want that for
Knox or any of the other girls! Little Dick is only six; if he wants to go to the Point and make the Army a career, that’s his prerogative…

      The other problem is that I just don’t like Jeff Davis! Syl Thayer warned me about him years ago: thickheaded; self-righteous, one of these ‘cavaliers’ who wants to duel if you look at him the wrong way…not what I want for Knox.

   
Well, I can order him, as Knox’s father, to stay away. Can’t court-martial him if he doesn’t, though. Maybe I ought to send
him
to Texas. Him and Travis would make a fine pair! Two hotheads with pistols at 50 paces. Hopefully with Sam Houston in the middle! Hum…that’d solve two problems…

      Taylor grinned to himself momentarily.

      But what about emancipation, Colonel? What if Calhoun and his fire-eaters do talk the South into secession? Which side you going to choose then, eh, Zachary?

       God, I hope it doesn’t come to that…I kind of like it here in New Orleans. Would hate to see a couple British warships starting bombarding the place.

___________

State Capitol Construction Site

Raleigh, North Carolina

May 16, 1833, 1 p.m.:

      The Duke had been told that North Carolina, the “Old North State,” was actually the most conservative of Southern states. That’s why he had chosen this special occasion for his own single major address before the new Congress organized in less than three weeks.

    The ostensive reason for the Duke’s journey was to lay the cornerstone for the new State Capitol Building. The Old Capitol had burnt down in ’31 and the Carolinians had spent two years arguing over designs and financing for a brilliant new Greek Revivalist structure. Once word reached Raleigh that Sir Arthur was in the Dominion for an extended visit, the state fathers pushed to have the Hero of Waterloo perform the honors.

       As the official party proceeded through the city’s main square to the construction site on East Edenton Street, passing through cheering crowds, the Duke was aware that the arrival last night of an unexpected guest had altered the atmosphere in which the address was to be given.

       Wellington and Captain Bratton had traveled by Royal Navy sloop to coastal Wilmington and then had ridden west to this splendid little city, not yet 50 years old but founded specifically to be the state capitol. They had arrived early yesterday afternoon after a leisurely three-day journey. “Well Captain, at least the planners of
this
capital picked a decent location.” Sir Arthur looked around as they rode in. Bratton grinned: “Indeed, Your Grace. Not a swamp in sight…”

        North Carolina’s youthful new governor, David Lowery Swain, had thrown a private dinner party hours after their arrival at the impressive brick Governor’s Mansion on the south end of Fayetteville Street. ‘The Judge,’ as Swain, 31, was known---he had resigned from the State Supreme Court in January to accept the General Assembly’s election---was a Dominion-Republican. “Refreshing in itself,” Wellington told the Captain. “Thought they only elected fire-eating Democrats down here. Apparently, this state truly is rather conservative…”

      Senators Brown and Magnum, though Democrats, had also been on hand. One look at the trio and Wellington could feel his age
: by God, not one of them is 35!

       “I say, Governor: does your state constitution bar mature men from office, or did a particularly virulent plague strike the previous generation?” Wellington used his wine glass to indicate the two Senators.

        Swain looked momentarily abashed, but then laughed. “Certainly not, Your Grace. Mature North Carolina gentlemen simply consider politics childish. We eventually outgrow it and graduate to other pursuits…”

         Wellington smiled and nodded in agreement. “A sensible attitude. One I may soon adopt myself…”

          Any retort from the Governor died on his lips as he saw an aide frantically signaling from across the room. He excused himself and hurried over as Wellington was engaged in conversation by a member of the state’s Congressional delegation.

          Standing nearby, Captain Bratton could see Swain, after a quick word from the aide that appeared to surprise him, begin to recross the room, only to pause to whisper in Brown’s ear. The Senator looked startled and reflexively turned to stare at Wellington. The two Carolinians put their heads together, and after a brief, animated conversation, marched in step back to the Duke.

          Having conversed briefly with the Congressman, Wellington had moved away and was now talking with the state’s beautiful new First Lady, whom, he judged, to be not more than 25. He smiled as Swain and Brown approached.

          “Governor. If sharing the company of this magnificent lady is part-and-parcel of the job, I may disregard your older generation’s example and run in the next election myself…”

          “Thank you, Your Grace.” The Governor bowed formally and then turned to smile affectionately at his wife. “However, Mrs. Swain accompanied me to Raleigh…and has agreed to depart whenever the General Assembly tires of my attempts to bring some modernity to our beautiful but backward land…”

          Amidst laughter and applause, Senator Magnum, just joining the group, said: “The Judge is an advocate of ‘internal improvements,’ Sir Arthur, at a speed somewhat faster than our poor state is accustomed. I’m afraid he’s been corresponding with Governor Floyd up in Richmond again…”

          Another round of easy laughter rippled through the room. (
These Carolinians don’t take their politics or themselves overly-serious, I’m relieved to see
, Wellington thought.) But Swain then put on a grave face and the laughter quickly died away.

        “It seems, Your Grace, that an unexpected visitor of some distinction has just arrived in Raleigh to hear your address. While I do not expect him to appear here this evening, I anticipate that he will attend tomorrow night’s celebration, as well as the formal ceremonies.”

           The Governor paused and glanced briefly at Bedford Brown, whose own face was arranged in a frown of embarrassment. Wellington caught the glance and motioned for Swain to continue, as Willie Person Magnum’s eyebrows shot up in puzzlement.

             “North Carolina’s hospitality comes without strings, Your Grace, and I am in no way indicating or suggesting that John C. Calhoun will conduct himself as anything other than the gentleman that he is. However, as the Senator’s recent speeches have espoused a position somewhat different than the one you enunciated in your address to the Congress, I wanted to inform you immediately upon learning that the Senator is here in Raleigh.”

           Wellington’s chuckle broke the silence before it could become embarrassing: “I look forward to conversing with Senator Calhoun, if the opportunity arises. I also trust he will listen tomorrow with an open mind, as I know all North Carolinians will.  I say, however: is the man’s horse named Pegasus? He seems to turn up all over the South. Man’s perpetually in motion…”

             This time, the Carolinians’ laughter seemed twinged with unease. Fortunately, the butler indicated that dinner was about to be served.

___________

        Wellington’s speech was met with polite applause at times. And polite silence when the emancipation issue was raised. The majority of the Raleigh gentry apparently opposed the freeing of their ‘people,’ but out of respect to the Duke---and in honor of the occasion of which they were duly proud---they did not express that opposition.

       Wellington, for his part, employed a conciliatory approach: the Crown was offering compensation as well as a seven-year period in which to accomplish the task. Surely at the conclusion of that period the former owners would see financially induced increased productivity from their servants-turned-workers! After all, the workers would be inspired by the knowledge that not only their survival but a better life was entirely up to themselves. The former owners would be relieved of the odorous---and expensive--obligation of lifelong care… Employers would be free to dismiss any non-productive workers with no governmental interference!

         And, of course, he gently but firmly reminded them, under terms of both the Colonial Compact and the USBA Constitution---both voluntarily signed by representatives of their state and approved by their own Legislature---the Government, with the King’s approval, was legally entitled to issue an emancipation degree…

        That portion of the address brought the only serious mutterings from portions of the crowd, but also, Captain Bratton could see, nods of approval and acknowledgement from others.

       The Colonial Office man had made it his business to study Calhoun’s reactions: Bratton had been surprised when the fire-eater had simply smiled rather, he thought, smugly during the Old Man’s prophecy of increased prosperity-through-abolition.

       The dark features had become taut, however, during the enunciation of the legal justification. Calhoun’s eyes seemed to burn like two coals as the Duke, in his own way, repudiated any and all nullification arguments.

        There’ll be no compromising with this one,
Bratton thought sourly
. This is a fanatic; he seems bound-and-determined to take this to---and beyond---the limits.

        
If his is the majority Southern opinion, then my prediction back in London (my God, was that just 4 ½ months ago?) will have been correct. Even if the old man in The Residency decides to support emancipation…these people will not give up their ‘peculiar institution’ without a fight!

___________

Governor’s Mansion

Raleigh, North Carolina

May 16, 1833, 7 p.m.:

          The astonishing letter John C. Calhoun carried in his breast pocket had been hand-delivered to Fort Hill Plantation. Floride, after scanning it quickly, had summoned a trusted young neighbor who, riding hard for long hours, had caught up to the Senator’s small traveling party south of Raleigh.