The Dominion's Dilemma: The United States of British America (36 page)

        Lucille’s unremitting coldness hadn’t been melted by his gesture of concern, however. While she agreed that protective steps needed to be taken, she didn’t seem the least bit grateful. In fact, once they had agreed to his suggestion that Company workers be brought to Cranford as security guards, her major concern seemed to be social: whether the speech’s content would affect the status of the Congressional reception slated to follow, as well as the dinner party she had planned to attend tomorrow evening at the incoming Vice G-G’s residence.

   The Lieutenant had forgotten about the reception and had been unaware of the dinner party. In fact, he wondered whether she could possibly be so shallow as to be more concerned about her social life than her safety. Or had she mentioned her weekend plans simply to let him know she would be moving in a social circle he had little hope of penetrating?

    Frankly, he was too damn tired, physically as well as emotionally, to worry about it. A few beers and some supper in the Indian Queen taproom---dinner at Cranford had been limited to some cold meats during the security discussions---and he would be hitting his pillow.

     He had a feeling The Residency would be boiling tomorrow morning: Jackson won’t take the emancipation news quietly. And General Scott had ordered him to report to his home for a 7 a.m. briefing on today’s meetings. So Saturday would be busy…

    
And that would be even before the Duke of Wellington lights the match that will blow up the world as we have known it…

___________

Van Buren’s Residence

Georgetown, D.C., 7 p.m.

     Aaron Burr had been holed-up in his son’s house since arriving before dawn yesterday. Matty Van had been alerted by Sir John Burrell Wednesday evening that “Colonel Burr” had been clandestinely summoned by the Duke. Since they were “fellow New Yorkers and, we understand, acquainted,” would it be too much for the new Vice G-G to quietly put the old man up during his stay in town? The Duke would consider it a personal favor, etc…

     Though astonished, Matty Van had been amused and impressed. Even more so when his father, after scampering into the townhouse from the unmarked Liaison carriage, had related the story of Captain Bratton’s appearance at his Reade Street office. After a leisurely breakfast---the Vice G-G had cancelled his morning appointments---Van Buren had gone about his business. Burr had rested; the two had then had a late supper and spent the evening discussing the possible reasons for both the summons and the secrecy surrounding it. A mystery which intensified when Major Layne had appeared at their door after dark with a note from the Duke inviting himself over for supper this evening…

    Wellington looked none the worse for wear---he bore no outer marks of his bruising afternoon session with Jackson---when he alighted from the same unmarked Liaison carriage and bounded up the steps to Van Buren’s front door, followed by Captain Bratton.

     The Vice G-G (though not officially until Monday noon) had the door open and welcomed in his supper guests. His own houseguest, face ruddy and eyes alight with humor and a hint of mischief, waited in the parlor. The two Britons were immediately struck, though they tried to downplay it, by the obvious generational similarities: as Wilder and Scott had once discussed (though not in the Brits’ presence), the two diminutive New Yorkers were unquestionably related.

     “Well, Your Grace, it is an honor to finally meet you after all these years,” Colonel Burr began with a merry twinkle in his eye. “I never had the pleasure during my sojourn in London…”

      The Duke was taken back: “I was unaware, Sir, that you had graced England with your presence…”

      “I did Sir Arthur. As an isle of refuge from an illegal murder charge, I can recommend no place more highly.”

    The others laughed nervously, Matty Van shaking his head at the Duke in a gesture of fond helpless filial exasperation.  Port and Claret were being offered by an Irish butler. His father, however, was far from done:

    “It strikes me, however, Your Grace, that perhaps it would have been better for your purposes tonight if my friend Hamilton had exhibited the steadier hand that morning on the Weehawk Heights. That is, if it is the Bank you are here tonight to discuss. Certainly, neither Matty Van nor I have ever claimed to be the financial genius that we both acknowledge Alex to have been.” He sipped his Port and looked expectantly at the Duke, who found, to his astonishment, that the tiny, elegant old man had somehow gained the immediate, if temporary, upper hand.

      “Actually, Sirs, the Bank is not the subject of the evening.” Wellington paused, sipping his own Claret, and continued, looking from one American to the other:
Yes, no
doubt about it: father and son.

       “We have much to discuss, so we had better get right at it. Mr. Vice Governor, I am aware that you are a proponent of relocating the USBA slave population back to Africa or to Central America, though you have, on occasion, maintained a personal ‘servant’ of your own. Your record in the Senate and as a member of Jackson’s first administration demonstrates, however, that you are not prepared to lead the abolitionist movement at this time.”

     He turned to the older American. “Colonel Burr, are you, too, equivocal on this sensitive issue?”

     A look of dawning understanding was spreading over the Colonel’s face. “Well Your Grace, if you are asking if I have abolitionist sympathies, I do. But formulated only as a matter of common sense.  Unlike the hypocritical Jefferson, who wrote that ‘all men are created equal’ when in fact he meant ‘all white, Protestant, agriculturally-minded men of independent means,’ I do not profess to believe in the equality of the races.

     “No, Sir Arthur; however, slavery is a cancer spreading perhaps irrevocably through the body of the USBA. It affects the natural growth and development of the Dominion in ways subtle and obvious; it begins to affect our relationship within the Empire in terms of foreign policy and it poses a grave long-term internal security dilemma…”

     The Duke interrupted. “In what way, Colonel?”

      “The mechanical age is well upon us, Your Grace. More efficient ways to plant and harvest the South’s major monetary crops---tobacco and cotton---will be available within a few generations. What then will we do with a suddenly obsolete, uneducated and unwanted workforce who could total four millions or more within 30 years? One which the planters will, believe me, disown the moment slavery becomes economically unfeasible?”

       Burr gave the two visitors a hard look. “Will they become a permanent underclass, seething in poverty and crime-prone, like the Irish in New York City? Or turn into actual banditti? Or will our successors have to carve out a Haiti-style enclave and allow them to misrule themselves?

      “Not good options, gentlemen. So you see why I believe this cancer must be cut from our Dominion’s body as soon as possible!”

     
Van Buren had been studying the Duke’s face as his father explained his position
. Strange that he should be smiling, when the Old Gentleman is being brutally frank. And the Captain is maintaining the quintessential British stiff upper lip. I wonder, is mastering that a requirement for graduating their top schools? At any rate, what’s going on here? Was Scott right: have they sent Wellington here to announce a slavery tax of some sort? Is that what tonight is all about?

     He looked to the inconspicuously waiting butler, who nodded. The meal was ready to be served. “Well gentlemen, shall we move into the dining room? We can continue our discussion over our food.”

___________

   The first course had not been served before Van Buren was dissuaded of the validity of the slave tax theory. Wellington’s first comment after sitting down addressed that speculation; his later comments left no room for further speculation at all. 

    “My meeting this afternoon with General Jackson was adjourned somewhat, ah, prematurely, Mr. Van Buren. The Governor-General was not at all surprised to be informed that my visit here is actually an official one. Mr. Jackson was surprised, however, to learn that I am not here to announce some sort of tax on slaves, as Georgetown rumor apparently has it.”

    The Duke gazed from son to father and back before continuing. Van Buren, staring directly at him, looked like any British politician hungry for secret information, resembling nothing so much as a starving dog ready to pounce on a choice, unexpected morsel. The Colonel, however, had a glint in his eye that told Wellington the shrewd old fellow might already have figured this out.

    “Gentlemen, as the official representative of the Government, at the direction of His Majesty, I today informed our Governor-General that a seven-year, phased-in bill to emancipate all slaves in the Empire, with due monetary compensation to their owners, will be introduced into Parliament this month. I emphasized to him that there is no doubt the final Parliamentary-approved legislation will bear the King’s signature by summer’s end.”

    There was neither rush of blood, nor straining of veins, on the faces and foreheads of his hosts, Wellington observed. Neither were there any involuntary gasps of disbelief or anger. Instead, a serene silence reigned for over a minute, until broken by a chuckle from the Colonel.

     “Well Your Grace, I see you English have not lost your sense of drama. Shakespeare himself could not have done better. But tell me, how did Andy take this news? Not well, I’d wager.”

     Turning to the Vice G-G, he added: “Now we know the reason for tonight’s summons to The Residency…”

      “Ah, so the Governor-General is already meeting with his advisors,” smiled the Duke. “I had little doubt that was the plan he and Frank Blair had concocted when they asked for an adjournment this afternoon. I’m sorry to divert you away, Mr. Van Buren, but it is essential we discuss this privately at this time, as you may play more than an advisory role as this crisis progresses.”

      Wellington’s smile faded as he sipped more Claret. “This is excellent wine, Vice-Governor. No Colonel, one can not say our G-G was pleased to hear of the emancipation bill. His initial reaction, however, tended, as I had expected, toward the issue of London-Georgetown relations: that the situation is being presented here as practically a ‘fait accompli.’

    “And that is a good thing. When---if---Andy accepts the Government’s right under the Colonial Compact to order the abolition of slavery here in British America, he will then address the situation in both domestic political and personal terms. And I believe he will then come around on those issues as well.”

     Watching closely, Burr saw Wellington’s face harden into a commanding stare as he looked toward the Vice G-G. “If he can not accept that right, Mr. Van Buren, I have been authorized to take action also spelled out in the Compact. That’s why I am here tonight.”

___________

    It was close to midnight before a tired but satisfied Wellington reboarded his coach, assisted by a Captain Bratton who had absorbed invaluable lessons in both politics and leadership tonight.

     Over the course of dinner and further discussions over brandy and cigars before a cozy fire, Wellington had extracted much from Van Buren: an acknowledgement that the Government indeed had the right under the Compact to unilaterally abolish slavery in the USBA (especially under terms of Empire-wide legislation); a commitment from the Vice G-G to work privately to rally Northern and Western support (it was agreed that publicly, as an Administration member, he should take no stand that might seem to challenge The Residency) and a private commitment to, in the last eventuality, enforce emancipation if circumstances forced Jackson’s removal from office.

     “So the eel has some backbone after all,” the Duke said as the carriage rolled toward The Residency. “Perhaps it was the father’s influence, but my level of confidence in Van Buren’s ability to lead the Dominion in a crisis, if necessary, is increasing. Hopefully, we can still avoid that painful possibility, but it is reassuring…”

     With Bratton listening and saying little, the Duke and the two Americans had decided that Daniel Webster should be asked to assume the main Northern role; the Vice G-G would sound out Henry Clay concerning the West. “Fortuitously, both will be present here tomorrow night for a post-speech dinner-party,” Van Buren had said. “I’ll have a private word with Harry then. As for Webster, he’ll probably be informing
me
that he’ll be speaking out…”

   “As students of human nature,” Sir Arthur had at one point remarked, “we all know it is inevitable that you, Vice Governor, will be gradually eased out of Andy’s inner circle, at least till this crisis passes. No matter how close you have been in the past, you pose a threat---how ever passive---to the G-G’s tenure in office. That, Colonel, is why I’ve asked you down here.”

     Burr was puffing contentedly on a cigar,
as if he had been briefed on this in advance,
thought Wellington.
I’m damned if he doesn’t already know what I’m about to propose. It’s uncanny…

       “Colonel, you’ve known General Jackson longer than virtually anyone. I believe this is not the first storm you two will be weathering. You do know what is expected of you, I assume?”

       The old man’s eyes were bright with relish and mischievous, mocking humor: “By the Eternal, I do Sir! You want me to help keep the lid on Andy’s famous temper; don’t allow his emotions to run roughshod over the facts. And to assure him that no one, particularly Matty here, is planning some sort of ‘coup.’

      “Now then, Sir Arthur, if I’m not mistaken, my job begins tomorrow. While you’re causing an uproar on Capitol Hill, I’ll be at the other end of Pennsylvania Avenue. I’m to slip into The Residency while no one’s looking and privately talk some political horse sense to the G-G.”

     To Bratton, it seemed as if the devil’s own horns had suddenly sprouted from the old man’s bald palate. Burr grinned again.