CHAPTER VIII

MR. CALHOUN ACCEPTS

A woman's tongue is her sword, that she never lets rust.

--_Madam Necker_.

I struggled among three courses. The impulses of my heart, joined to

some prescience of trouble, bade me to follow Elisabeth. My duty ordered

me to hasten to Mr. Calhoun. My interest demanded that I should tarry,

for I was sure that the Baroness von Ritz would make no merely idle

request in these circumstances. Hesitating thus, I lost sight of her in

the throng. So I concluded I would obey the mandate of duty, and turned

toward the great doors. Indeed, I was well toward the steps which led

out into the grounds, when all at once two elements of my problem

resolved themselves into one. I saw the tall figure of Mr. Calhoun

himself coming up the walk toward me.

"Ah," said he briefly, "then my message found you?"

"I was starting for you this moment, sir" I replied.

"Wait for a moment. I counted on finding you here. Matters have

changed."

I turned with him and we entered again the East Room, where Mr. Tyler

still prolonged the official greeting of the curious, the obsequious, or

the banal persons who passed. Mr. Calhoun stood apart for a time,

watching the progress of this purely American function. It was some time

ere the groups thinned. This latter fact usually would have ended the

reception, since it is not etiquette to suppose that the president can

lack an audience; but to-day Mr. Tyler lingered. At last through the

thinning throng he caught sight of the distinctive figure of Mr.

Calhoun. For the first time his own face assumed a natural expression.

He stopped the line for an instant, and with a raised hand beckoned to

my chief.

At this we dropped in at the tail of the line, Mr. Calhoun in passing

grasping almost as many hands as Mr. Tyler. When at length we reached

the president's position, the latter greeted him and added a whispered

word. An instant later he turned abruptly, ending the reception with a

deep bow, and retired into the room from which he had earlier emerged.

Mr. Calhoun turned now to me with a request to follow him, and we passed

through the door where the president had vanished. Directed by

attendants, we were presently ushered into yet another room, which at

that time served the president as his cabinet room, a place for meeting

persons of distinction who called upon business.

As we entered I saw that it was already occupied. Mr. Tyler was grasping

the hand of a portly personage, whom I knew to be none other than Mr.

Pakenham. So much might have been expected. What was not to have been

expected was the presence of another--none less than the Baroness von

Ritz! For this latter there was no precedent, no conceivable explanation

save some exigent emergency.

So we were apparently to understand that my lady was here as open friend

of England! Of course, I needed no word from Mr. Calhoun to remind me

that we must seem ignorant of this lady, of her character, and of her

reputed relations with the British Foreign Office.

"I pray you be seated, Mr. Pakenham," said Mr. Tyler, and he gestured

also to us others to take chairs near his table. Mr. Pakenham, in rather

a lofty fashion, it seemed to me, obeyed the polite request, but

scarcely had seated himself ere he again rose with an important clearing

of his throat. He was one who never relished the democratic title of

"Mr." accorded him by Mr. Tyler, whose plain and simple ways, not much

different now from those of his plantation life, were in marked

contrast to the ceremoniousness of the Van Buren administration, which

Pakenham also had known.

"Your _Excellency_," said he, "her Majesty the Queen of England's wish

is somewhat anticipated by my visit here to-day. I hasten only to put in

the most prompt and friendly form her Majesty's desires, which I am sure

formally will be expressed in the first mails from England. We deplore

this most unhappy accident on your warship _Princeton_, which has come

so near working irremediable injury to this country. Unofficially, I

have ventured to make this personal visit under the flag of this

enlightened Republic, and to the center of its official home, out of a

friendship for Mr. Upshur, the late secretary of state, a friendship as

sincere as is that of my own country for this Republic."

"Sir," said Mr. Tyler, rising, with a deep bow, "the courtesy of your

personal presence is most gratifying. Allow me to express that more

intimate and warmer feeling of friendship for yourself which comes

through our long association with you. This respect and admiration are

felt by myself and my official family for you and the great power which

you represent. It goes to you with a special sincerity as to a gentleman

of learning and distinction, whose lofty motives and ideals are

recognized by all."

Each having thus delivered himself of words which meant nothing, both

now seated themselves and proceeded to look mighty grave. For myself, I

stole a glance from the tail of my eye toward the Baroness von Ritz. She

sat erect in her chair, a figure of easy grace and dignity, but on her

face was nothing one could read to tell who she was or why she was here.

So far from any external _gaucherie_, she seemed quite as much at home

here, and quite as fit here, as England's plenipotentiary.

"I seize upon this opportunity, Mr. Pakenham," said Mr. Tyler presently,

with a smile which he meant to set all at ease and to soften as much as

possible the severity of that which was to follow, "I gladly take this

opportunity to mention in an informal way my hope that this matter which

was already inaugurated by Mr. Upshur before his untimely death may come

to perfectly pleasant consummation. I refer to the question of Texas."

"I beg pardon, your Excellency," rejoined Mr. Pakenham, half rising.

"Your meaning is not perfectly clear to me."

The same icy smile sat upon Mr. Tyler's face as he went on: "I can not

believe that your government can wish to interfere in matters upon this

continent to the extent of taking the position of open ally of the

Republic of Mexico, a power so recently at war upon our own borders with

the brave Texans who have left our flag to set up, through fair

conquest, a republic of their own."

The mottled face of Mr. Pakenham assumed a yet deeper red. "As to that,

your Excellency," said he, "your remark is, as you say, quite informal,

of course--that is to say, as I may state--"

"Quite so," rejoined Mr. Tyler gravely. "The note of my Lord Aberdeen to

us, none the less, in the point of its bearing upon the question of

slavery in Texas, appears to this government as an expression which

ought to be disavowed by your own government. Do I make myself quite

clear?" (With John Calhoun present, Tyler could at times assume a

courage though he had it not.)

Mr. Pakenham's face glowed a deeper red. "I am not at liberty to discuss

my Lord Aberdeen's wishes in this matter," he said. "We met here upon a

purely informal matter, and--"

"I have only ventured to hope," rejoined Mr. Tyler, "that the personal

kindness of your own heart might move you in so grave a matter as that

which may lead to war between two powers."

"War, sir, _war_?" Mr. Pakenham went wholly purple in his surprise, and

sprang to his feet. "War!" he repeated once more. "As though there could

be any hope--"

"Quite right, sir," said Mr. Tyler grimly. "As though there could be any

hope for us save in our own conduct of our own affairs, without any

interference from any foreign power!"

I knew it was John Calhoun speaking these words, not Mr. Tyler. I saw

Mr. Calhoun's keen, cold eyes fixed closely upon the face of his

president. The consternation created by the latter's words was plainly

visible.

"Of course, this conversation is entirely irregular--I mean to say,

wholly unofficial, your Excellency?" hesitated Pakenham. "It takes no

part in our records?"

"Assuredly not," said Mr. Tyler. "I only hope the question may never

come to a matter of record at all. Once our country knows that dictation

has been attempted with us, even by England herself, the North will join

the South in resentment. Even now, in restiveness at the fancied

attitude of England toward Mexico, the West raises the demand that we

shall end the joint occupancy of Oregon with Great Britain. Do you

perchance know the watchword which is now on the popular tongue west of

the Alleghanies? It bids fair to become an American _Marseillaise_."

"I must confess my ignorance," rejoined Mr. Pakenham.

"Our backwoodsmen have invented a phrase which runs _Fifty-four Forty or

Fight_!"

"I beg pardon, I am sure, your Excellency?"

"It means that if we conclude to terminate the very unsatisfactory

muddle along the Columbia River--a stream which our mariners first

explored, as we contend--and if we conclude to dispute with England as

well regarding our delimitations on the Southwest, where she has even

less right to speak, then we shall contend for _all_ that territory, not

only up to the Columbia, but north to the Russian line, the parallel of

fifty-four degrees and forty minutes! We claim that we once bought Texas

clear to the Rio Grande, from Napoleon, although the foolish treaty with

Spain in 1819 clouded our title--in the belief of our Whig friends, who

do not desire more slave territory. Even the Whigs think that we own

Oregon by virtue of first navigation of the Columbia. Both Whigs and

Democrats now demand Oregon north to fifty-four degrees, forty minutes.

The alternative? My Lord Aberdeen surely makes no deliberate bid to hear

it!"

"Or fight!" exclaimed Pakenham. "God bless my soul! Fight _us_?"

Mr. Tyler flushed. "Such things have been," said he with dignity.

"That is to say," he resumed calmly, "our rude Westerners are egotistic

and ignorant. I admit that we are young. But believe me, when the

American people say _fight_, it has but one meaning. As their servant, I

am obliged to convey that meaning. In this democracy, the will of the

people rules. In war, we have no Whigs, no Democrats, we have only _the

people_!"

At this astounding speech the British minister sat dumfounded. This air

of courage and confidence on the part of Mr. Tyler himself was something

foreign to his record. I knew the reason for his boldness. John Calhoun

sat at his right hand.

At least, the meaning of this sudden assault was too much for England's

representative. Perhaps, indeed, the Berserker blood of our frontier

spoke in Mr. Tyler's gaze. That we would fight indeed was true enough.

"It only occurs to us, sir," continued the president, "that the great

altruism of England's heart has led her for a moment to utter sentiments

in a form which might, perhaps, not be sanctioned in her colder

judgment. This nation has not asked counsel. We are not yet agreed in

our Congress upon the admission of Texas--although I may say to you,

sir, with fairness, that such is the purpose of this administration.

There being no war, we still have Whigs and Democrats!"

"At this point, your Excellency, the dignity of her Majesty's service

would lead me to ask excuse," rejoined Mr. Pakenham formally, "were it

not for one fact, which I should like to offer here. I have, in short,

news which will appear full warrant for any communication thus far made

by her Majesty's government. I can assure you that there has come into

the possession of this lady, whose able services I venture to enlist

here in her presence, a communication from the Republic of Texas to the

government of England. That communication is done by no less a hand than

that of the attaché for the Republic of Texas, Mr. Van Zandt himself."

There was, I think, no other formal invitation for the Baroness von Ritz

to speak; but now she arose, swept a curtsey first to Mr. Tyler and then

to Mr. Pakenham and Mr. Calhoun.

"It is not to be expected, your Excellency and gentlemen," said she,

"that I can add anything of value here." Her eyes were demurely

downcast.

"We do not doubt your familiarity with many of these late events,"

encouraged Mr. Tyler.

"True," she continued, "the note of my Lord Aberdeen is to-day the

property of the streets, and of this I have some knowledge. I can see,

also, difficulty in its reception among the courageous gentlemen of

America. But, as to any written communication from Mr. Van Zandt, there

must be some mistake!"

"I was of the impression that you would have had it last night,"

rejoined Pakenham, plainly confused; "in fact, that gentleman advised me

to such effect."

The Baroness Helena von Ritz looked him full in the face and only

gravely shook her head. "I regret matters should be so much at fault,"

said she.

"Then let me explain," resumed Pakenham, almost angrily. "I will

state--unofficially, of course--that the promises of Mr. Van Zandt were

that her Majesty might expect an early end of the talk of the annexation

of Texas to the United States. The greater power of England upon land or

sea would assure that weak Republic of a great and enlightened ally--in

his belief."

"An ally!" broke out Mr. Calhoun. "And a document sent to that effect by

the attaché of Texas!" He smiled coldly. "Two things seem very apparent,

Mr. President. First, that this gentle lady stands high in the respect

of England's ministry. Second, that Mr. Van Zandt, if all this were

true, ought to stand very low in ours. I would say all this and much

more, even were it a state utterance, to stand upon the records of this

nation!"

"Sir," interrupted Mr. Tyler, swiftly turning to Mr. Calhoun, "_may I

not ask you that it be left as a state utterance?_"

Mr. Calhoun bowed with the old-time grace habitual to him, his hand upon

his heart, but he made no answer. The real reason might have been read

in the mottled face of Pakenham, now all the colors of the rainbow, as

he looked from one to the other.

"Mr. Calhoun," continued the president, "you know that the office of

our secretary of state is vacant. There is no one living would serve in

that office more wisely than yourself, no one more in accordance with my

own views as to these very questions which are before us. Since it has

come to that point, I offer you now that office, and do so officially. I

ask your answer."

The face of England's minister now for the first time went colorless. He

knew what this meant.

As for John Calhoun, he played with both of them as a cat would with a

mouse, sneeringly superior. His answer was couched in terms suited to

his own purposes. "This dignity, Mr. President," said he, bowing deeply

again, "so unexpected, so onerous, so responsible, is one which at least

needs time for proper consideration. I must crave opportunity for

reflection and for pondering. In my surprise at your sudden request, I

find no proper answer ready."

Here, then, seemed an opportunity for delay, which Mr. Pakenham was

swift to grasp. He arose and bowed to Mr. Tyler. "I am sure that Mr.

Calhoun will require some days at least for the framing of his answer to

an invitation so grave as this."

"I shall require at least some moments," said Mr. Calhoun, smiling.

"That _Marseillaise_ of '44, Mr. President, says _Fifty-four Forty or

Fight_. That means 'the Rio Grande or fight,' as well."

A short silence fell upon us all. Mr. Tyler half rose and half frowned

as he noticed Mr. Pakenham shuffling as though he would depart.

"It shall be, of course, as you suggest," said the president to

Pakenham. "There is no record of any of this. But the answer of Mr.

Calhoun, which I await and now demand, is one which will go upon the

records of this country soon enough, I fancy. I ask you, then, to hear

what Mr. Calhoun replies."

Ah, it was well arranged and handsomely staged, this little comedy, and

done for the benefit of England, after all! I almost might have believed

that Mr. Calhoun had rehearsed this with the president. Certainly, the

latter knew perfectly well what his answer was to be. Mr. Calhoun

himself made that deliberately plain, when presently he arose.

"I have had some certain moments for reflection, Mr. President," said

he, "and I have from the first moment of this surprising offer on your

part been humbly sensible of the honor offered so old and so unfit a

man.

"Sir, my own record, thank God, is clear. I have stood for the South. I

stand now for Texas. I believe in her and her future. She belongs to us,

as I have steadfastly insisted at all hours and in all places. She will

widen the southern vote in Congress, that is true. She will be for

slavery. That also is true. I myself have stood for slavery, but I am

yet more devoted to democracy and to America than I am to the South and

to slavery. So will Texas be. I know what Texas means. She means for us

also Oregon. She means more than that. She means also a democracy

spreading across this entire continent. My attitude in that regard has

been always clear. I have not sought to change it. Sir, if I take this

office which you offer, I do so with the avowed and expressed purpose of

bringing Texas into this Union, in full view of any and all

consequences. I shall offer her a treaty of annexation _at once!_ I

shall urge annexation at every hour, in every place, in all ways within

my means, and in full view of the consequences!" He looked now gravely

and keenly at the English plenipotentiary.

"That is well understood, Mr. Calhoun," began Mr. Tyler. "Your views are

in full accord with my own."

Pakenham looked from the one to the other, from the thin, vulpine face

to the thin, leonine one. The pity Mr. Tyler felt for the old man's

visible weakness showed on his face as he spoke.

"What, then, is the answer of John Calhoun to this latest call of his

country?"

That answer is one which is in our history.

"John Calhoun accepts!" said my master, loud and clear.

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