THE ARTFUL GENTLEMAN PROM KENTUCKY
It was dusk. Heavy shadows lay over the trees which lined the
curving walks leading across a little park to the stately white
house beyond. From that direction now appeared several gentlemen,
advancing in scattering groups. They might almost have been made
up of conspirators, so intent they seemed, so apprehensive lest
even their thoughts might be read. Two of them drew apart,--one of
these a slender bony man, the other a tall and dark man. The
latter spoke almost moodily.
"I doubt your ability, my dear sir, to influence so shrewd a man in
any such way as you suggest. Besides, he is not of our party."
"That's all the better. A man of our party might, could, would and
should keep his mouth shut about such a ticklish matter; but
outside our party, any who begins it has got to keep his mouth
shut!"
"There is no other way," he added, smiling. "It must be done. The
Countess St. Auban is here again! This band of Gipsy heathens from
Hungary is also here. The country is wild over Kossuth. We'll
have to accept this invitation to invite him! But Austria remains
bitter against the countess. What we must do is to have her go
back home with these commissioners from Hungary. There's ugly talk
about the way she's been used. That fellow Carlisle--good riddance
of him from the army--even confessed he engaged in a game of
cards--" their heads bent together--"in short, the devil is to pay
with the administration if this gets out. We can't banish her
again. But how can we with dignity even it with her, so she will
make no talk? If she likes, she can ruin us, because Carlisle
can't be kept silent, now he's out of the army. And he's crazy
over her, anyhow."
"So? I do not blame him."
"Yes. Therefore, since all of us have lacked wisdom in our own
camp, we'd e'en do well to take wisdom where we can find it."
They parted, the last speaker presently to hail the nearest
carriage. The driver a few moments later drew up at the front of a
spacious and dignified brick building, whose reserved look might
have pronounced it a private hotel or a club for gentlemen. The
visitor seemed known, the door swinging open for him.
[Illustration: They parted, the last speaker hailing a carriage.]
"Louis," said he to the attendant, "is Mr. ---- in?" He mentioned a
name which even then was well known in Washington.
"I think you will find him in the reading-room, Sir," was the
answer.
The inquirer passed to the right, entering a wide room with tables,
books, heavy chairs, discreetly shaded lamps. At one table, drawn
close to the light and poring over a printed page, sat a gentleman
whose personality was not without distinction. The gray hair
brushed back from a heightening forehead might have proclaimed him
even beyond middle age, and his stature, of about medium height,
acknowledged easy living in its generous habit. The stock and
cravat of an earlier day gave a certain austerity to the shrewd
face, lighted by a pair of keen gray eyes, which now turned to
greet the new-comer. He rose, and both bowed formally before they
advanced to take each other by the hand. They were acquaintances,
if not intimate friends. Evidently this particular club no more
enlisted its members from this or that political party than did
either of the leading parties call upon any certain section for
their membership.
"I am fortunate to find you here in Washington, my dear Sir," began
the gentleman from Kentucky. "It is something of a surprise."
The wrinkles about the other's eyes deepened in an affable smile.
"True," said he, "in the last twelve years I have three times
sought to get back into Washington! Perhaps it would have been
more seemly for me to remain in the decreed dignified retirement."
They joined in a laugh at this, as they both drew up chairs at the
table side.
"You see," resumed the last speaker, "I am not indeed intruding
here in national affairs, but only choose Washington for to-night.
I have been thinking of a pleasure journey into the West, down the
Ohio River--"
"Will you have snuff?" began his companion. "This is no import, I
assure you, but is made by one of my old darkeys, on my plantation
in Kentucky. He declares he puts nothing into it but straight
leaf."
"My soul!" exclaimed the other, sneezing violently. "I suspect the
veracity of your darkey. It is red pepper that he uses!"
"All the better, then, to clear our minds, my dear Sir. But let me
first send for another product of my state, to assuage these
pains." He beckoned to a servant, who presently, returned with
tray and glasses.
"And now," he resumed, "what you say of your journey interests me
immensely. No doubt you propose going down the river as far as
Missouri? The interest of the entire country is focused there
to-day. Ah, yonder is the crux of all our compromise! Safe within
the fold herself, that is to say above the fatal line of thirty-six
degrees, thirty minutes, her case is simply irresistible in
interest to-day, both for those who argue for and those who talk
against the extension of slavery into our other territories."
"Yet your administration, to-day, my dear Sir, calls this
'finality.' Believe me, it is no more than a compromise with truth
and justice! The entire North demands that slavery shall halt."
"The entire South refuses it!"
"Then let the South beware!"
"The North also may beware, my dear Sir!"
"We are aware, and we are prepared. Not another inch for slavery!"
"Hush!" said the other, raising a hand. "Not even you and I dare
go into this. The old quarrel is lulled for a time. At last we
have worked these measures through both the House and Senate. In
the House the administration can put through at any time the Wilmot
proviso prohibiting slavery, and although the Senate always has and
always can defeat such a measure, both branches, and the executive
as well, have agreed to put this dog to sleep when possible, and
when found sleeping, to let him lie. My dear friend, it is not a
question of principle, but of policy, to-day."
"Principles should rule policies!" exclaimed the other virtuously.
"Agreed! Agreed! We are perfectly at one as to that. But you know
that Webster himself reiterates again and again that no man should
set up his conscience above the law of his country. Your Free Soil
party means not law, but anarchy,--and worse than that--it means
disunion! Clay, Cass, Webster, Benton, even the hottest of the men
from Mississippi and South Carolina, are agreed on that. My dear
Sir, I say it with solemn conviction, the formation of a new party
of discontent to-day, when everything is already strained to
breaking, will split this country and plunge the divided sections
into a bloody war!"
The other sat gravely for a time before he made reply. "Our people
feel too sternly to be reconciled. We need some new party--"
Again the other raised a warning hand. "_Do not say that word_!
Others have principles as much as you and I. Let us not speak with
recklessness of consequences. But, privately, and without hot
argument, my dear friend, the singular thing to me is that you, an
old leader of the people, with a wide following in the North and
South, should now be entertaining precisely the same principles--
though not expressing them with the same reckless fervor--which are
advanced by the latest and most dangerous abolitionist of the time."
"You do not mean Mr. Garrison? Any of my New York or Boston
friends?"
"No, I mean a _woman_, here in Washington. You could perhaps guess
her name."
The other drew his chair closer. "I presume you mean the lady
reputed to have been connected with President Taylor's commission,
of inquiry into affairs in Hungary--"
"Yes,--the 'most beautiful woman in Washington to-day.' So she is
called by some--'the most dangerous,' by others."
"Has Kentucky forgotten its gallantry so fully as that? Rumor has
reported the young woman to me as a charming young widow, of
beauty, wealth and breeding."
"Yes, manners, and convictions, and courage--abolitionist
tendencies and fighting proclivities. She is a firebrand--a
revolutionist, fresh back from the Old World, and armed with
weapons of whose use we old fogies are utterly ignorant. Having
apparently nothing to lose whose loss she dreads, she is careless
of all consequences. You, my dear Sir, speak of your moral
adherence to some new party. You consider yourself one of the
lamented Free Soil party, and hope a resurrection. This woman does
not pause there--no. She comes here to Washington, at precisely
the time of our final compromise, when all is peaceful, even
slumberous,--and she preaches the crusade of fire and sword. My
dear friend, if you seek a prophet, here is one; and if you want
leadership in your dogma of no slavery north of thirty-six degrees,
thirty minutes, here is prophet and leader in one!--And, believe
me, one with arguments which make her dangerous to one man, two
men, or any collection of men."
The other pondered. "I have never seen the lady," he remarked, at
length. "Is she acquainted among the abolitionists of the North?"
"No. She trains in no one's camp. Indeed, socially she has been
neglected in the North, for reasons said to have been urged in
diplomatic circles."
"Something of an intrigante, eh?"
"At least enough to excite the anger and suspicion of Austria, the
interest of England, the concern of France;--that's all!"
"Of what age is she?"
"Of about that age, my dear Sir, which our children or
grandchildren might claim. I should say, twenty-three,
twenty-four,--not over twenty-six, perhaps. It is difficult to
say. I have met her but rarely."
"You have me at disadvantage, even so," smiled the other. "It is,
however, unnecessary for you to settle your cravat. It is quite
straight; and besides, I think we are quite safe from intrusion of
women here."
"You have never met this fair enthusiast? You are behind the
times!" retorted the wily Kentuckian. "Perhaps you would like that
honor? I think it could be arranged. Indeed," he added, after a
moment spent in careful study of his companion's face, "I would
even undertake to arrange it. My dear Sir, with your well known
charm of manner with men, and women as well, you could in that case
win the lasting plaudits of your country, if you but possessed the
resolution!"
"In a cause so noble, I would do what I might! But what is the
cause? And is it proper for one of my place to engage in it?"
"You could, I say, be hailed by the administration in power, not as
the Father of your Country, perhaps, but as its savior. Take this
woman out of our camp, and into your own. Flock your own fowl
together, you Free Soilers! Take her out of Washington, get her
back to Europe--where she belongs,--and, without jesting, my dear
Sir, you shall have the backing next year, two years hence--in
1853,--any time you like--of the men who make this administration,
and of the men behind this compromise. A majority of the House, an
even division of the Senate--Listen, my dear friend, this is not
idle talk, and these are no idle promises! I am serious. I speak
to you in no wise ill-advised. To tell you the truth, we are
frightened. She has stolen all our peace of mind, and stolen also
some of our thunder--some of our cast-off and unthundered thunder."
"In what way?"
"Oh, nothing. It is of very little consequence. It is a
bagatelle. All she proposes to do is to purchase all the slaves in
the United States--out of her own funds--and ship them out of
America."
"Great God!"
"Yes. We didn't dare it. She does. We didn't begin. She has
begun. And since it has begun, who knows what army of the
people--what _new party_--may fall in behind her? We want you to
forestall all that. We don't want you to head that new party. We
think you will do better to fall in with us, to accept the
compliment of a European mission--and to take this fair firebrand
with you. We are afraid to have her in Washington."
The other listened with a flicker of the eyelid, which showed his
interest, but feigned lightness in his speech.
"In matters of gallantry, my dear friend, why does Kentucky need a
substitute, or even an ally?"
"Kentucky, in the deference due to so great a man as yourself,
yields to New York! Will you have snuff, Sir?"
"I thank you, I think not. But tell me, what is it that New York
must do?"
"New York, my dear Sir, must transport, man-handle, murder,
wheedle, bowstring, drown, and permanently lose Josephine, Countess
St. Auban,--herself late back from Missouri, formerly of God knows
where. I promise you, this country is only a tinder box, waiting
for that sort of spark. To-morrow--but you remember, my dear
Horatio!"
"But between now and to-morrow is rather a brief period. We have
not yet invented means of traveling through the air. I could not
well carry off this fair lady by main strength. My own plans
unfortunately require some attention. And I think that, even were
the trifling difficulty of the lady's consent overcome, I could not
easily assume the role of savior of my country before the time of
the departure of the next ship for Europe--even granted my enemies,
the Whigs, will give a mission to an ex-Democrat and a Free Soiler
like myself!"
"Not that I should not experience the most pleasureable emotions
both in saving the country, my dear Sir," he saluted with his
glass, "and of saving it in the company of so charming a person as
this young lady is reported to be. The years have laid us under a
certain handicap, my friend. Yet were this lady quite unattached,
or her duena not wholly impossible, one might consider the
distinguished role of disinterestedly saving one's country in the
capacity at least of chaperon."
They looked at each other, and broke into laughter. Yet minds so
keen as theirs long before them had read between lines on the
printed page, under the outward mask of human countenances.
"Stranger things have happened!" said the gentleman from Kentucky.
"My soul and body' My dear Sir, you do not speak seriously?" His
surprise was feigned, and the other knew it.
"I was never so serious in my life. My friend, it seems almost as
though fate had guided me to your side to-night. At this time,
when our diplomacy abroad is none too fortunate, and when our
diplomacy at home is far more delicate and dangerous, you yourself,
known the country over as a man of tact and delicacy, are the one
man in the world to handle this very mission. It is the Old Fox of
the North, after all, Free Soiler or not, who alone can smooth down
matters for us. Our country had supreme confidence in you. This
administration has such confidence still. It will give all that is
seemly for one of your station to accept. It will not ask aught of
party lines, this or that."
"Do you speak with authority other than your own?"
"It is not yet time for me to answer that."
"Yet you dare approach one who is in the opposing camp."
"But one whose camp we either hope to join, or whom we hope later
to have in our own. Who can tell where party lines will fall in
the next three years? All the bars may be down by then, and many a
fence past mending."
"For the sake of harmony, much should be ventured."
"Excellent words, Sir."
"One owes a certain duty to one's country at any time."
"Still more excellent."
"And political success can be obtained best through union and not
disunion of political forces."
"Most excellent of all! We rejoice to hear the voice of New York
speaking in the old way."
"My faith, I believe you are serious in this! Have you really
formulated any plans?" He was safe in the trap, and the other knew
it.
"Sir, I will not discredit you by choosing methods. As to the
results desired, I say no more."
"Yet we sit here and discuss this matter as though we contemplated
a simple, proper and dignified act!"
"Murder is perhaps not legal, even for the sake of one's country.
But suppose we halt this side of murder. Suppose that by means
known only to yourself, and not even to myself, you gained this
young woman's _free consent_ to accompany you, say, to Europe--that
would be legal, dignified, proper--and ah! so useful."
"And rather risky!"
"And altogether interesting."
"And quite impossible."
"Altogether impossible. Oh, utterly!"
"Quite utterly!"
They spoke with gravity. What the gentleman from New York really
thought lay in his unvoiced question: "Could it by any possibility
be true that the Fillmore administration would give me support for
the next nomination if I agree to swing the Free Soil vote nearer
to the compromise?" What the gentleman from Kentucky asked in his
own mind, was this:
"Will he play fair with us, or will he simply make this an occasion
to break into our ranks?" What they both did was to break out into
laughter at least feignedly hearty. The Kentuckian resolved to put
everything upon one hazard.
"I was just saying," he remarked, "that we have been told the
adorable countess perhaps contemplates only a short visit in
America after all. She might be easy to lead back to Europe, If
necessary, you shall have a dignified errand made for you
abroad--entirely what you yourself would call fitting. You must
see to that. Your reward will come somewhere this side of Heaven."
"Again you have forgotten about--"
"I have forgotten nothing, and to show you that I speak with
authority, I will tell you this: Within the hour the Countess St.
Auban will leave her entertainment at the theater and return to her
hotel. You see, we are advised of all her movements. We give you
an hour to meet her at her hotel; an hour to persuade her. There
the curtain drops.
"No one in Washington or in New York seeks to look beyond that
curtain," he concluded slowly. "No one counsels you what to do,
and indeed, no one can suggest. Only take this woman away, and
lose her,--that is all! A few days or weeks will do, but for ever
would be better. It is no light errand that is offered to you, and
we are not fools or children to look at this altogether lightly.
There is risk, and there is no security. Customarily the rewards
of large risks and poor security are great--when there are any
rewards."
[Illustration: "Only take this woman away and lose her."]
The gentleman from Kentucky rose as he spoke and, adroit in
managing men, reached out his hand as though to take the other's
and so to clench the matter. Yet his heart leaped in surprise--a
surprise which did not leave him wholly clear as to the other's
motives--when the latter met his hand with so hearty a grasp of
affirmation.
"It should not be so difficult," he said. "It is only a case of
logical argument. It is long since I have addressed the people, or
addressed a lady, but I shall try my skill once more to-night! All
that is necessary is to explain to this young lady that our
political ambitions are quite the same, and that I might be of
service did we share the same public means of travel in a Journey
already planned by both. I was intending a visit to Europe this
very summer."
"Sir, there is no other man owner both of the skill and courage to
handle this matter. I hesitated to put it before you, but the
method you suggest seems almost plausible. I trust you to make it
appear wholly so to the fair lady herself."
"We might be younger and fare better at that sort of thing."
"Altogether to the contrary, my friend! Do not mistake this lady.
Youth would be an absolute bar to success. Age, dignity, a public
reputation such as yours,--these are the only things which by any
possibility could gain success; and, frankly, even these may fail.
At least, I honestly wish you success, and there has been no jest
in what I said about the support of Mr. Fillmore's family and his
party. You know that there is honesty even in politics, sometimes;
and there is silence, I promise that. Take my advice. Put her in
a sack, drop her overboard in mid-ocean. In return, all I ask of
you is not to throw overboard the sack anywhere close to this
country's shore! It was done once before, on the Ohio River, but
the sack was not tied tightly enough. Here she is again!
Wherefore, have a care with your sack strings, I beseech you.
"Louis, my hat; and get my carriage! Have a second carriage
waiting here at once."