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54-40 OR FIGHT
by
EMERSON HOUGH
Author of _The Mississippi Bubble_, _The Way of the Man_, etc.
With Four Illustrations by Arthur I. Keller
A. L. Burt Company
Publishers New York
1909
[Illustration: "Madam," said I, "let me, at least, alone." Page 49]
TO
Theodore Roosevelt
PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES
AND FIRM BELIEVER IN THE RULE OF THE PEOPLE
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
WITH THE LOYALTY AND ADMIRATION
OF THE AUTHOR
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I THE MAKERS OF MAPS
II BY SPECIAL DESPATCH
III IN ARGUMENT
IV THE BARONESS HELENA
V ONE OF THE WOMEN IN THE CASE
VI THE BOUDOIR OF THE BARONESS
VII REGARDING ELISABETH
VIII MR. CALHOUN ACCEPTS
IX A KETTLE OF FISH
X MIXED DUTIES
XI WHO GIVETH THIS WOMAN
XII THE MARATHON
XIII ON SECRET SERVICE
XIV THE OTHER WOMAN
XV WITH MADAM THE BARONESS
XVI DÉJEÛNER A LA FOURCHETTE
XVII A HUNTER OF BUTTERFLIES
XVIII THE MISSING SLIPPER
XIX THE GENTLEMAN FROM TENNESSEE
XX THE LADY FROM MEXICO
XXI POLITICS UNDER COVER
XXII BUT YET A WOMAN
XXIII SUCCESS IN SILK
XXIV THE WHOA-HAW TRAIL
XXV OREGON
XXVI THE DEBATED COUNTRY
XXVII IN THE CABIN OF MADAM
XXVIII WHEN A WOMAN WOULD
XXIX IN EXCHANGE
XXX COUNTER CURRENTS
XXXI THE PAYMENT
XXXII PAKENHAM'S PRICE
XXXIII THE STORY OF HELENA VON RITZ
XXXIV THE VICTORY
XXXV THE PROXY OF PAKENHAM
XXXVI THE PALO ALTO BALL
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER I
THE MAKERS OF MAPS
There is scarcely a single cause in which a woman is not engaged in
some way fomenting the suit.--_Juvenal_.
"Then you offer me no hope, Doctor?" The gray mane of Doctor Samuel Ward
waved like a fighting crest as he made answer:
"Not the sort of hope you ask." A moment later he added: "John, I am
ashamed of you."
The cynical smile of the man I called my chief still remained upon his
lips, the same drawn look of suffering still remained upon his gaunt
features; but in his blue eye I saw a glint which proved that the answer
of his old friend had struck out some unused spark of vitality from the
deep, cold flint of his heart.
"I never knew you for a coward, Calhoun," went on Doctor Ward, "nor any
of your family I give you now the benefit of my personal acquaintance
with this generation of the Calhouns. I ask something more of you than
faint-heartedness."
The keen eyes turned upon him again with the old flame of flint which a
generation had known--a generation, for the most part, of enemies. On my
chief's face I saw appear again the fighting flush, proof of his
hard-fibered nature, ever ready to rejoin with challenge when challenge
came.
"Did not Saul fall upon his own sword?" asked John Calhoun. "Have not
devoted leaders from the start of the world till now sometimes rid the
scene of the responsible figures in lost fights, the men on whom blame
rested for failures?"
"Cowards!" rejoined Doctor Ward. "Cowards, every one of them! Were there
not other swords upon which they might have fallen--those of their
enemies?"
"It is not my own hand--my own sword, Sam," said Calhoun. "Not that. You
know as well as I that I am already marked and doomed, even as I sit at
my table to-night. A walk of a wet night here in Washington--a turn
along the Heights out there when the winter wind is keen--yes, Sam, I
see my grave before me, close enough; but how can I rest easy in that
grave? Man, we have not yet dreamed how great a country this may be. We
_must_ have Texas. We _must_ have also Oregon. We must have--"
"Free?" The old doctor shrugged his shoulders and smiled at the arch
pro-slavery exponent.
"Then, since you mention it, yes!" retorted Calhoun fretfully. "But I
shall not go into the old argument of those who say that black is white,
that South is North. It is only for my own race that I plan a wider
America. But then--" Calhoun raised a long, thin hand. "Why," he went on
slowly, "I have just told you that I have failed. And yet you, my old
friend, whom I ought to trust, condemn me to live on!"
Doctor Samuel Ward took snuff again, but all the answer he made was to
waggle his gray mane and stare hard at the face of the other.
"Yes," said he, at length, "I condemn you to fight on, John;" and he
smiled grimly.
"Why, look at you, man!" he broke out fiercely, after a moment. "The
type and picture of combat! Good bone, fine bone and hard; a hard head
and bony; little eye, set deep; strong, wiry muscles, not too
big--fighting muscles, not dough; clean limbs; strong fingers; good
arms, legs, neck; wide chest--"
"Then you give me hope?" Calhoun flashed a smile at him.
"No, sir! If you do your duty, there is no hope for you to live. If you
do not do your duty, there is no hope for you to die, John Calhoun, for
more than two years to come--perhaps five years--six. Keep up this
work--as you must, my friend--and you die as surely as though I shot you
through as you sit there. Now, is this any comfort to you?"
A gray pallor overspread my master's face. That truth is welcome to no
man, morbid or sane, sound or ill; but brave men meet it as this one
did.
"Time to do much!" he murmured to himself. "Time to mend many broken
vessels, in those two years. One more fight--yes, let us have it!"
But Calhoun the man was lost once more in Calhoun the visionary, the
fanatic statesman. He summed up, as though to himself, something of the
situation which then existed at Washington.
"Yes, the coast is clearer, now that Webster is out of the cabinet, but
Mr. Upshur's death last month brings in new complications. Had he
remained our secretary of state, much might have been done. It was only
last October he proposed to Texas a treaty of annexation."
"Yes, and found Texas none so eager," frowned Doctor Ward.
"No; and why not? You and I know well enough. Sir Richard Pakenham, the
English plenipotentiary here, could tell if he liked. _England_ is busy
with Texas. Texas owes large funds to _England. England_ wants Texas as
a colony. There is fire under this smoky talk of Texas dividing into two
governments, one, at least, under England's gentle and unselfish care!
"And now, look you," Calhoun continued, rising, and pacing up and down,
"look what is the evidence. Van Zandt, _chargé d'affaires_ in Washington
for the Republic of Texas, wrote Secretary Upshur only a month before
Upshur's death, and told him to go carefully or he would drive Mexico to
resume the war, _and so cost Texas the friendship of England!_ Excellent
Mr. Van Zandt! I at least know what the friendship of England means. So,
he asks us if we will protect Texas with troops and ships in case she
_does_ sign that agreement of annexation. Cunning Mr. Van Zandt! He
knows what that answer must be to-day, with England ready to fight us
for Texas and Oregon both, and we wholly unready for war. Cunning Mr.
Van Zandt, covert friend of England! And lucky Mr. Upshur, who was
killed, and so never had to make that answer!"
"But, John, another will have to make it, the one way or the other,"
said his friend.
"Yes!" The long hand smote on the table.
"President Tyler has offered you Mr. Upshur's portfolio as secretary of
state?"
"Yes!" The long hand smote again.
Doctor Ward made no comment beyond a long whistle, as he recrossed his
legs. His eyes were fixed on Calhoun's frowning face. "There will be
events!" said he at length, grinning.
"I have not yet accepted," said Calhoun. "If I do, it will be to bring
Texas and Oregon into this Union, one slave, the other free, but both
vast and of a mighty future for us. That done, I resign at once."
"Will you accept?"
Calhoun's answer was first to pick up a paper from his desk. "See, here
is the despatch Mr. Pakenham brought from Lord Aberdeen of the British
ministry to Mr. Upshur just two days before his death. Judge whether
Aberdeen wants liberty--or territory! In effect he reasserts England's
right to interfere in our affairs. We fought one war to disprove that.
England has said enough on this continent. And England has meddled
enough."
Calhoun and Ward looked at each other, sober in their realization of the
grave problems which then beset American statesmanship and American
thought. The old doctor was first to break the silence. "Then do you
accept? Will you serve again, John?"
"Listen to me. If I do accept, I shall take Mr. Upshur's and Mr.
Nelson's place only on one condition--yes, if I do, here is what _I_
shall say to England regarding Texas. I shall show her what a Monroe
Doctrine is; shall show her that while Texas is small and weak, Texas
_and_ this republic are not. This is what I have drafted as a possible
reply. I shall tell Mr. Pakenham that his chief's avowal of intentions
has made it our _imperious duty_, in self-defense, to hasten the
annexation of Texas, cost what it may, mean what it may! John Calhoun
does not shilly-shally.
"_That_ will be my answer," repeated my chief at last. Again they looked
gravely, each into the other's eye, each knowing what all this might
mean.
"Yes, I shall have Texas, as I shall have Oregon, settled before I lay
down my arms, Sam Ward. No, I am _not_ yet ready to die!" Calhoun's old
fire now flamed in all his mien.
"The situation is extremely difficult," said his friend slowly. "It must
be done; but how? We are as a nation not ready for war. You as a
statesman are not adequate to the politics of all this. Where is your
political party, John? You have none. You have outrun all parties. It
will be your ruin, that you have been honest!"
Calhoun turned on him swiftly. "You know as well as I that mere politics
will not serve. It will take some extraordinary measure--you know
men--and, perhaps, _women_."
"Yes," said Doctor Ward, "and a precious silly lot: they are; the two
running after each other and forgetting each other; using and wasting
each other; ruining and despoiling each other, all the years, from Troy
to Rome! But yes! For a man, set a woman for a trap. _Vice versa_, I
suppose?"
Calhoun nodded, with a thin smile. "As it chances, I need a man. Ergo,
and very plainly, I must use a woman!"
They looked at each other for a moment. That Calhoun planned some
deep-laid stratagem was plain, but his speech for the time remained
enigmatic, even to his most intimate companion.
"There are two women in our world to-day," said Calhoun. "As to Jackson,
the old fool was a monogamist, and still is. Not so much so Jim Polk of
Tennessee. Never does he appear in public with eyes other than for the
Doña Lucrezia of the Mexican legation! Now, one against the
other--Mexico against Austria--"
Doctor Ward raised his eyebrows in perplexity.
"That is to say, England, and _not_ Austria," went on Calhoun coldly.
"The ambassadress of England to America was born in Budapest! So I say,
Austria; or perhaps Hungary, or some other country, which raised this
strange representative who has made some stir in Washington here these
last few weeks."
"Ah, _you mean the baroness!_" exclaimed Doctor Ward. "Tut! Tut!"
Calhoun nodded, with the same cold, thin smile. "Yes," he said, "I mean
Mr. Pakenham's reputed mistress, his assured secret agent and spy, the
beautiful Baroness von Ritz!"
He mentioned a name then well known in diplomatic and social life, when
intrigue in Washington, if not open, was none too well hidden.
"Gay Sir Richard!" he resumed. "You know, his ancestor was a
brother-in-law of the Duke of Wellington. He himself seems to have
absorbed some of the great duke's fondness for the fair. Before he came
to us he was with England's legation in Mexico. 'Twas there he first met
the Doña Lucrezia. 'Tis said he would have remained in Mexico had it not
been arranged that she and her husband, Señor Yturrio, should accompany
General Almonte in the Mexican ministry here. On _these_ conditions, Sir
Richard agreed to accept promotion as minister plenipotentiary to
Washington!"
"That was nine years ago," commented Doctor Ward.
"Yes; and it was only last fall that he was made envoy extraordinary. He
is at least an extraordinary envoy! Near fifty years of age, he seems to
forget public decency; he forgets even the Doña Lucrezia, leaving her to
the admiration of Mr. Polk and Mr. Van Zandt, and follows off after the
sprightly Baroness von Ritz. Meantime, Señor Yturrio _also_
forgets the Doña Lucrezia, and proceeds _also_ to follow after the
baroness--although with less hope than Sir Richard, as they say! At
least Pakenham has taste! The Baroness von Ritz has brains and beauty
both. It is _she_ who is England's real envoy. Now, I believe she knows
England's real intentions as to Texas."
Doctor Ward screwed his lips for a long whistle, as he contemplated John
Calhoun's thin, determined face.
"I do not care at present to say more," went on my chief; "but do you
not see, granted certain motives, Polk might come into power pledged to
the extension of our Southwest borders--"
"Calhoun, are you mad?" cried his friend. "Would you plunge this country
into war? Would you pit two peoples, like cocks on a floor? And would
you use women in our diplomacy?"
Calhoun now was no longer the friend, the humanitarian. He was the
relentless machine; the idea; the single purpose, which to the world at
large he had been all his life in Congress, in cabinets, on this or the
other side of the throne of American power. He spoke coldly as he went
on:
"In these matters it is not a question of means, but of results. If war
comes, let it come; although I hope it will not come. As to the use of
women--tell me, _why not women?_ Why anything _else_ but women? It is
only playing life against life; one variant against another. That is
politics, my friend. I _want_ Pakenham. So, I must learn what _Pakenham_
wants! Does he want Texas for England, or the Baroness von Ritz _for
himself?_"
Ward still sat and looked at him. "My God!" said he at last, softly; but
Calhoun went on:
"Why, who has made the maps of the world, and who has written pages in
its history? Who makes and unmakes cities and empires and republics
to-day? _Woman_, and not man! Are you so ignorant--and you a physician,
who know them both? Gad, man, you do not understand your own profession,
and yet you seek to counsel me in mine!"
"Strange words from you, John," commented his friend, shaking his head;
"not seemly for a man who stands where you stand to-day."
"Strange weapons--yes. If I could always use my old weapons of tongue
and brain, I would not need these, perhaps. Now you tell me my time is
short. I must fight now to win. I have never fought to lose. I can not
be too nice in agents and instruments."
The old doctor rose and took a turn up and down the little room, one of
Calhoun's modest ménage at the nation's capital, which then was not the
city it is to-day. Calhoun followed him with even steps.
"Changes of maps, my friend? Listen to me. The geography of America for
the next fifty years rests under a little roof over in M Street
to-night--a roof which Sir Richard secretly maintains. The map of the
United States, I tell you, is covered with a down counterpane _à deux_,
to-night. You ask me to go on with my fight. I answer, first I must find
the woman. Now, I say, I have found her, as you know. Also, I have told
you _where_ I have found her. Under a counterpane! Texas, Oregon, these
United States under a counterpane!"
Doctor Ward sighed, as he shook his head. "I don't pretend to know now
all you mean."
Calhoun whirled on him fiercely, with a vigor which his wasted frame did
not indicate as possible.
"Listen, then, and I will tell you what John Calhoun means--John
Calhoun, who has loved his own state, who has hated those who hated him,
who has never prayed for those who despitefully used him, who has fought
and will fight, since all insist on that. It is true Tyler has offered
me again to-day the portfolio of secretary of state. Shall I take it? If
I do, it means that I am employed by this administration to secure the
admission of Texas. Can you believe me when I tell you that my ambition
is for it all--_all_, every foot of new land, west to the Pacific, that
we can get, slave _or_ free? Can you believe John Calhoun, pro-slavery
advocate and orator all his life, when he says that he believes he is an
humble instrument destined, with God's aid, and through the use of such
instruments as our human society affords, to build, _not_ a wider slave
country, but a wider America?"
"It would be worth the fight of a few years more, Calhoun," gravely
answered his old friend. "I admit I had not dreamed this of you."
"History will not write it of me, perhaps," went on my chief. "But you
tell me to fight, and now I shall fight, and in my own way. I tell you,
that answer shall go to Pakenham. And I tell you, Pakenham shall not
_dare_ take offense at me. War with Mexico we possibly, indeed
certainly, shall have. War on the Northwest, too, we yet may have
unless--" He paused; and Doctor Ward prompted him some moments later, as
he still remained in thought.
"Unless what, John? What do you mean--still hearing the rustle of
skirts?"
"Yes!--unless the celebrated Baroness Helena von Ritz says otherwise!"
replied he grimly.
"How dignified a diplomacy have we here! You plan war between two
embassies on the distaff side!" smiled Doctor Ward.
Calhoun continued his walk. "I do not say so," he made answer; "but, if
there must be war, we may reflect that war is at its best when woman
_is_ in the field!"