The Dominion's Dilemma: The United States of British America (54 page)

        It was the elderly Chief Justice who initially broke through the gloom that had permeated the main courses: “As I understand the situation, my dear Duke,” (Marshall was another who despised utilizing the formal English address) “it appears that Senator Calhoun believes the Crown can not afford war on two fronts. Is his estimate correct?”

       Wellington reluctantly nodded.

       “So I must ask Winfield,” Marshall continued, “would our own British American forces be so decimated by a Southern, I can think of no other word…desertion...that we would be unable to put down an…insurrection…without the Empire’s help?”

        Scott was vigorously shaking his massive head even before the old Virginian completed his question. “On paper, very definitely not, Mr. Chief Justice. Even under the worst scenario---the mass resignation of Southern-born officers to form the basis of a rebel officer corps---we would still have any rebel forces out-manned, and, of course, out-gunned. The South is simply not equipped to wage war; they don’t have the artillery, or capability of manufacturing the artillery, for one thing, or the capability to manufacture the other items of war: ammunition, muskets and side-arms and so forth.”

       The leonine head stilled as a quite different tone entered the General’s voice: “However, it remains to be seen if the other sections believe emancipation is worth fighting for. Just because we
theoretically
would have an insurrection out-manned and out-gunned doesn’t mean we
actually
would, if it comes to that. On paper, the Dominion forces would simply grind any rebel armies down. But wars aren’t fought on paper. The will to fight can not be overestimated. The South, from all reports, claims to have that will. Do the other sections?”

         It was Van Buren who broke the depressing silence that followed Scott’s rhetorical question. “That, ladies and gentlemen, aptly demonstrates the political acumen of the Governor-General. Mr. Jackson, from the moment the Duke initially briefed him, saw emancipation as a test of sectional wills; the final struggle over the issue of states rights…”

      “And what is the G-G’s current position?” The Chief Justice, normally the most decorous of men, broke in anxiously.

      “He hasn’t revealed it, of course,” Van Buren admitted with a frown before brightening: “However, based on his record, my belief is that, after much soul-searching, he will adhere to his Dominionist principles.” 

      The eyebrows went up and the Vice G-G flashed a smile that could have been interpreted as shy…or sly. “I seem to have broken my own first rule: never make predictions…”

        The Duke raised his glass as most other guests clapped in appreciation:  “Bravo, Mr. Van Buren. I salute you. Especially as your opinion concurs with my own.”

         The General, however, remained grave. “The issue here isn’t the Governor-General’s principles…whatever they may turn out to be. What matters most is the will in the North and West to fight for those, as you say,
Dominionist principles
. Can anyone here say with any certainty that they will?”

       Wellington again raised his glass, this time to Scott. “Winfield, you always were, even on the Peninsula, the supreme realist. I salute you…”

       The Duke looked around the table. “I, also, have an opinion on that subject. Based on my talks and travels, I believe the North and West will rally to the Colonial Compact, if necessary. And, if called upon, Winfield, under your banner…”

___________

The Golden Eagle Inn

Georgetown, D.C.

May 28, 1833, 9 p.m.:

     Joanne Casgrave was oblivious to the gathering political storm. The fact was that she simply did not give a damn about emancipation, exemption, nullification, the Colonial Compact or politics in general. Joanne was in the midst of the most intense relationship of her extraordinarily active sexual life. She had enjoyed dozens of lovers, as well as countless clients, since fleeing her family’s small Long Island farm years before. Unlike most newcomers to Georgetown, it was lust, not politics, which had brought her here: she had come as the pampered concubine of an Army captain transferred from Fort Hamilton. One who had demonstrated the bad taste to die within months of their arrival, leaving her temporarily destitute. That’s when she had begun the climb to her present station in life: a prosperous, if disreputable, business owner with a mysterious Russian for a lover.

    Bored, sullen and rebellious---yes, and of course sexually hungry, too---while he had vanished on his Southern ‘tour,’ she had taken on a hulking officer from the Russian Consulate one night. In part, it had been an experiment: were these Russians better lovers or was Andre simply in a class by himself? The Russian officer, she had forgotten his name, if not his disappointing brutishness, had drunkenly identified Andre as “Count Nicholas” at one point between their couplings. She had been stunned and wondered if it could be true. Confirmation of which came the following morning when she confronted the love-struck barbarian who, horrified at his blunder, had begged her to never repeat the name. Which of course she agreed to…once the brute came clean with the entire story. The Russian officer had then fled, to her relief, and had not appeared at The Eagle again. It had taken her several baths to feel clean…

       So it was simply a matter of time before Andre ‘fessed up; after all, he had, since returning, finally admitted his feelings for her…

      And now he was actually taking an interest in the operation of The Eagle…on both floors. He had advised the replacement of some waitresses and ‘upstairs girls,’ including fat-and-drunken Kathy, with younger, more attractive and easier-to-manage newcomers to the city. And he had taken supervision of Richard off her hands. That was a relief; while the strange man had always done whatever she had ordered, he still made her uneasy. But Andre seemed to have him completely under control…

___________

The Residency

Georgetown, D.C.

May 31, 1833, 9 a.m.:

     James Polk hurried across the grounds, anxious to discover the G-G’s current position on the crisis. He had arrived back in town late yesterday afternoon, only to discover that Calhoun was still en route.  Senator Tyler was already back, so he and Sarah had accepted an invitation to the Tylers’ for supper. John, however, knew less---much less---Polk now thought with a smile, than he did.

       Polk was shocked at Jackson’s appearance when Donelson escorted him into the G-G’s office minutes later: Andy looked five years older than he had in early March. As he rose in greeting, he seemed to rely on the cane more now for support than as a prop. A quick glance at the secretary confirmed that Donelson, too, was concerned about the G-G’s health.

      “James, it is good to see you. Now, first I’ll want a report on the sentiment in Tennessee. Then we can discuss the whole picture…”

       Two hours later, Polk had the information he needed: the G-G was still uncommitted and would remain so until he got a sense of the people through reports from the returning Congress. And, significantly, he knew nothing of the European situation…or its potential to tilt the emancipation issue.

       It’s just like these arrogant Limeys to withhold such crucial information
, the Congressman thought.
The bastards believe the assignment of foreign affairs in the Colonial Compact to London is all encompassing…even when it directly impacts domestic affairs here in America. Well, this is one time when their high-and-mighty
attitude is going to come back to haunt them: once Wellington realizes we know the Empire is eye-to-eye with the Russians---or maybe past that---he’ll cave on the exemption. And Jackson will be so mad he wasn’t let in on the secret that he’ll join in pushing for the exemption to cover any future Southwestern expansion. Expansion he has Sam Houston working on in Texas right now!

___________

Calhoun Residence

Georgetown, D.C.

June 2, 1833:

       The Southern inner circle, for the most part (Senator Troup had not yet arrived), had caucused hours earlier and now, at 5 p.m., was winding up its meeting.

        “Well, gentlemen, we all are now up to date.” Calhoun looked at the group with tired satisfaction. “You all can now see how this fortuitous Russian adventure has given us the leverage to force Wellington to compromise. And while the old man in The Residency is still trying to make up his mind, we’re about to make it up for him. Now, I again caution you: no word of the Syrian situation is to be spoken when we meet with our colleagues from the other sections tomorrow.

      “Debate, as I understand it, is scheduled to begin Tuesday. We’ll make our valid constitutional arguments for our institution and hope the soundness of our position convinces those from outside the South. Meanwhile, we bide our time and wait for the opportune moment to utilize the Russian weapon. From James’ report, I would expect Jackson to address Congress late in the week, or perhaps a week from tomorrow. We’ll hold back until after he announces his position.”

     He paused and nodded his head vigorously, his long hair flying. “Then will be the time to officially inquire how things are going in Asia Minor.”

     It took a moment before the others recognized the biting sarcasm reflected their leader’s complete confidence in his plan.

___________

    As the meeting broke up in laughter, a servant entered to announce the arrival of General Gaines. Despite the quizzical looks from Brown and Tyler, among others, Calhoun ushered his guests out with the bland explanation that the General’s wife and Floride were old and dear friends; the Gaines were honoring a long-scheduled invitation to dinner. That Gaines was alone in the parlor was, if not commented upon, noted by many…

     After closing the front door behind the last of his followers, Calhoun returned to the parlor and noticed for the first time the satchel at the General’s feet.

     “Well General. Business…on a Sabbath evening? I thought only disreputable sorts like politicians so flaunted the Good Book…”

       Edmund P. Gaines was the antithesis of Winfield Scott: short, spare and gaunt-faced. And despite Scott’s dismissal of his fellow-Virginian as a “paper-pusher,” Gaines had heard and seen his share of lead---and arrows---in large and small fights with the French and with Indian tribes from Michigan to Florida. Now, ironically, it was that very skill at pushing paper that was to impress the Senator from South Carolina.

       The General got right to the point, picking up his satchel and giving Calhoun a hard look: “Senator, I have documents in this pouch which could easily get me cashiered, if not shot for treason. I suggest we go behind locked doors”---he indicated the dining room in which the previous caucus had met---“and examine them privately.”

         This time, Calhoun’s smile was not sarcastic, but quizzical: “Certainly, General, if you think necessary. Though your concerns do seem, shall we say, perhaps ‘overly-dramatic’…?”

     “I doubt you’ll feel that way, Senator, after you study the first set.”

       Once settled at the table, Gaines opened the pouch and retrieved the papers detailing the reorganization of the USBAA, including the list of potential Southern officer resignations. He gravely handed the papers to Calhoun and sat back.

      The Senator’s quizzical expression darkened as he studied the plans, occasionally pausing to stare at Gaines. More than 40 minutes passed before he threw down the final pages, though he continued to stare down at them. Finally, he looked up and nodded at the General.

       “General Gaines, if those plans are authentic, it is not you who should be shot for treason. Now tell me how you obtained them…and how it is there has been no scandal over their disappearance.”

       Gaines sketched the process by which he had come into possession of the papers. The tale began with Lieutenant Beaufort’s discovery while searching for a listing of Consulate military attaches the Liaison Office had requested while Lieutenant Wilder was off with General Scott on an inspection trip to West Point.

       “There’s no doubt whatsoever this document came from the locked desk of Scott’s own intelligence aide, General?” Calhoun wanted the Vice-Commander’s strongest assurance that the plans were real.

       “None whatsoever, Senator. Lieutenant Beaufort says that, in retrospect, it is now apparent this plan is what Scott and Wilder have been working so diligently on behind closed doors for weeks. At the time, Luke, Lieutenant Beaufort, paid little heed. It seems Wilder is Scott’s fair-haired boy. Says Scott is always calling him in privately and sending him on special missions.”

      Calhoun’s mouth twitched in such a way that Gaines had little doubt he was trying to smother a smile: “This Lieutenant Beaufort, now, he wouldn’t be…perhaps a tad…jealous… of his fellow junior officer?”

       Gaines straightened up in his seat: “Senator, Luke Beaufort is the first graduate of the Academy to hail from Mississippi. He came to me as a Southern patriot.”

         Calhoun nodded his head vigorously in acceptance. “Now then, General: what do you suppose we should in response to all this…treason?”

         Gaines stared at the Senator for a moment, then lowered his head and dug the second set of documents out of his pouch. He handed them over wordlessly.

       Calhoun accepted the papers with another, just barely, quizzical smile and reviewed them quickly. His eyebrows rose on occasion and he glanced up at Gaines with a newfound respect at several intervals.
       “It seems you, too, have been hard at work building a paper army, General. My congratulations. However, a question: these state units you list. Are they ready to fight?”

        Gaines was hard-faced: “No unit can be accurately termed ‘ready’ until it demonstrates how it performs under fire, Senator. But our Southern militia are just-as, if not more-so, than the Yankees. Our boys meet and drill regularly. I doubt if 10% of the militia units in Scott’s proposal, outside of the Illinois and Ohio boys who fought against Black Hawk, have drilled for anything other than Compact Day parades…”