_In Which His Excellency Proposes; the Legislature Disposes; and Pierre
Dominique Becomes the Guest of the State_
I
It was now early December, and the social season of the Creoles’ _Petit
Paris_ was at its height. Indeed, everything conspired to make that year
the most eventful, socially speaking, of any that had gone before it,
unless one excepts the equally notable season when that most fascinating
person, Mr. Aaron Burr, had been the guest of honor at a hundred fêtes.
But this season had indeed opened auspiciously and many were the
matchmaking Creole mammas who planned for their daughters intricate
campaigns of offense and defense, with all the skill and finesse of
seasoned generals, against all and sundry eligible bachelors. And equally
numerous were the aforesaid eligible gallants, out for conquests and wary
for possible matrimonial traps.
When the new political régime had first been entered upon there had been
a rather abrupt cessation of social happenings of any brilliance, but
when the Creoles—which appellation, by the way, is correctly used only
when speaking of American-born persons of full and unmixed European
ancestry, without any admixture of Indian or of negro blood—when the
Creoles gradually began to admit the disliked _Américains_ to their
exclusive social circles, the social activities of New Orleans began to
take on a new impetus. It was not long before locality distinctions began
to fade. Governor Claiborne, himself, had done much to destroy these
distinctions by marrying two separate times into Creole families.
To add to the brilliance of this present season, the Legislature of the
state of Louisiana was holding its yearly session in New Orleans, and the
presence of its members, who were representative of the most prominent
and cultured families in the state, helped to add to the general social
gayety. In most cases their families had accompanied them from their
respective districts, primarily to take part in the annual social whirl.
This was the New Orleans of old—the real New Orleans. A city essentially
French in customs and breeding, European in culture and social
atmosphere. Louisiana, like its sister states of the South, with its
representative population descended directly from the European upper
classes, was really European in its outlook upon everything—on world
affairs, in its literature, in its fashions. As Virginians were in the
main of Cavalier stock, so Louisianians were remnants of the _ancien
régime_ of France. Individually and collectively did these Southern
States represent the cream of American aristocracy and culture.
And these gentlemen of the State Legislature, in turn, were
representative of the best families in the state, living examples of
the real definition of “Creole”; wealthy, cultured, haughty; true
“blue-bloods” ... persons truly to the manner born.
These were the friends and compeers of the Lafittes.
And on this eventful December day these were the men who sat in the
legislative chamber when Governor Claiborne delivered his notable address.
William Claiborne, clean-shaven, hawk-nosed, and with an air that seemed
to challenge the world at large, was on the speaker’s rostrum, addressing
the silent assemblage. It was very seldom indeed that the Governor of
Louisiana addressed in person either house of the Legislature, and not a
few of the members thereof felt surprise to see him there.
After the rather unnecessary formal introduction by the Speaker, His
Excellency plunged directly into his subject. That it was of importance
was attested by the close attention paid his discourse by every member of
that dignified body.
The great room, stately in its proportions and blazing with the light of
many lamps, provided a picturesque setting. Not a sound was to be heard
except the voice of the speaker, rising, falling, clear, lucid, and
coldly concise, and with an undercurrent of righteous indignation:
“And, gentlemen,” His Excellency was saying as he harangued them, “it
behooves us, as the official guardians of the welfare of this great state
and territory, to see that the citizens who placed us in office—in this
position of honor and trust that we occupy—should be served, and served
to the best of our ability.
“Obviously, gentlemen, it is our duty to unselfishly sacrifice both
ourselves and our personal interests for the best interests of the people
as a whole—our constituency. And in this particular case I say that, as
Governor of Louisiana, in my official capacity and as a conscientious
citizen, I honestly believe that the wisest, the most logical thing to do
is to wipe out this atrocious practice of smuggling, this unparalleled
menace to the commonwealth!” He glanced pugnaciously over to that part of
the room known as the “Left,” where sat the acknowledged supporters of
the privateers.
“This practice has enriched the worst element of our population. In
innumerable instances it has debauched magistrates and police officers!”
There was a well-defined stir in the assemblage.
“It is a stigma upon the state and an infringement upon the rights of
our legitimate merchants! Obnoxious to the prosperity of every honest
citizen....
“As you all know, business in shipping circles of this city of New
Orleans is practically at a standstill. Legitimate commerce has been
crippled. The very prosperity of the entire Mississippi Valley is at
stake. Not only that, but the United States customs in New Orleans is
practically a farce!
“I prophesy, gentlemen, that if stringent steps are not immediately taken
to put a stop to this rank piracy, this flagrant public lawbreaking, the
honor and safety of our fair state will be so far jeopardized as to cause
the national authorities to step in, perhaps use martial law! Think of
the disgrace of such a proceeding!”
His Excellency paused a moment to mop his perspiring forehead, his
auditors still attentive, but impassive as stone images. He went on:
“But you gentlemen of this honorable assembly know the details of these
various crimes as well as I, so I will no longer take up your time. It is
necessary to act at once. That is why I have come here. And I shall speak
plainly.
“I hereby request that an appropriation be made by the Legislature of
Louisiana, by the use of which a force of armed men may be collected and
properly provided for. With these I propose to break up this unspeakable
buccaneering business. Gentlemen, I ask you for funds to destroy that
pirates’ nest infesting the bay of Barataria, that we may vindicate the
honor of Louisiana. Gentlemen, the welfare of the state is in your hands!”
* * * * *
Two hours later, at the gubernatorial mansion, Claiborne received his
reply from the Legislature. It was as brief and to the point as his
address.
The members of the Legislature begged to inform His Excellency that there
were no funds available, at present, for the purpose he required.
The cautious legislators had declined to take action, partly for the
reason that they were unwilling to interfere with an enterprise that,
illegitimate or not, was unquestionably developing the resources of lower
Louisiana and incidentally was enriching their constituents; and, partly,
because many of them, themselves, were connected with the Baratarians in
various ways.
But the Governor could not know this, nor appreciate it if he did. In any
event, the refusal in no whit served to abate His Excellency’s choler.
Claiborne stared at the reply for a long while and then turned to his
secretary, a pimply-faced youth with a nascent mustache, who sat at a
small desk, paring his finger nails, his face apparently a vacuous blank.
“Milford!” he called, imperiously.
Milford suddenly came to life.
“Yes, Your Excellency!”
“Those damned idiots down in the Legislature have refused me the
appropriation!”
“Really, Your Excellency!”
“Those driveling dolts! ... those demented fools! ... those smuggling
dogs! They’re smugglers, every one of them, I can swear, Milford!”
“Quite so, Your Excellency.” Milford surreptitiously studied his thumb
nail. It was a bit ragged, he thought.
“Damn you!” cried Claiborne. “Shut up!”
Milford cleared his throat uneasily, but his master had already forgotten
him.
“No doubt they’re every one of them in the pay of that damned Lafitte!”
fussed the Governor.
Milford nodded assent, owlishly.
“Was ever man so ill served before—was ever an Executive so ignored?”
Milford, however, was imperturbable. He did not say so, but he could not
see where it was a Legislature’s duty to serve its governor, although he
wisely refrained from expressing his opinion. It is the better part of
discretion to keep such opinions to oneself, when one has to earn one’s
bread and butter, and especially when one hopelessly loves one’s master’s
daughter. At thought of the blond, ascetic-looking Margaret Claiborne he
gulped.
Finally the Governor quieted down and stared again at the fatal letter
from the Legislature, thinking deeply in the interval.
Suddenly he sprang to his feet.
Milford also jumped, although he was already on his feet.
“Milford,” he commanded, “send for Judge Cabell at once—at once, do you
hear? But wait, I have a note to send to the courthouse. Wait a moment
until I write it.”
Milford gulped and then glanced at his thumbnail.
It was still a bit ragged.