by James Devine
Lord Grey had risen and was looking out his window. “When we have agreed on a plan. No reason to alarm the King just yet…”
Palmerston nodded in agreement. “Yes…never alarm His Majesty unnecessarily…” They smiled and Palmerston turned to leave the room. Grey sighed heavily and returned to his desk. Lord Melbourne, you are welcome to this old house. I’ve about had enough glory…
Georgetown, D.C.
February 13, 1833:
John C. Calhoun took stock of the Southerners gathered in the Senate cloakroom for the noontime meeting. It was too soon, of course, for those from the southwest---Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and Tennessee---to have reached the capitol for the special session, but a good representation of the states closer to the District was in attendance. Unfortunately, he was disappointed in some of the faces, but felt the need to caucus before tonight’s state dinner.
The fiery slavery advocate from Georgia, Senator George Troup, was here accompanied by the former governor of that state, newly-elected representative George Gilmour. Calhoun’s staunchest ally, Representative George McDuffie of South Carolina, articulated the nullification argument, in Calhoun’s view, better than he himself did and had traveled with him and Floride on the boat from Charleston. McDuffie was clearly not pleased that Georgia Representative John Forsyth was in the room; Forsyth was a loyal---“lapdog,” in McDuffie’s words---Jacksonian who opposed nullification and was, at best, lukewarm in his support of slavery.
The Virginians, Tyler and Rives, had come from Richmond with Wellington; Calhoun wanted their views on the significance of the Duke’s visit. He knew where the two stood politically: Rives was a Jacksonian but a true Southerner in terms of states rights while Tyler’s opposition to Dominionist legislation went back almost 20 years.
The two North Carolinians, Senators Willie Person Mangum and Bedford Brown, were moderates, but both had supported nullification. Calhoun felt he could count on them in any showdown. Also attending were Maryland’s two Senators, Joseph Kent and Ezekiel Chambers. Calhoun had little faith in or respect for either, but thought Maryland deserved to participate in the caucus.
By the time the meeting broke up some 2 1/2 hours later, several things were clear: Maryland would stand with the South against the Bank but would not support any renewed nullification efforts; the group was united in its opposition to Dominion funding of intrastate internal improvement projects; more pressure must be brought on London during the session to annex, buy or seize Texas as the best way to offset growing abolitionist strength in the North; and Wellington’s visit was disquieting. (The two Virginians had related the conversation at Governor Floyd’s dinner party and subsequent follow-up conversations over the previous few days.)
“This visit is extraordinary and unprecedented,” said Calhoun. “I’m baffled by Jackson’s apparently cavalier response to it. And I don’t accept for one moment that Wellington is here unofficially.
“There is something going on, gentlemen, which, while it may not be sinister, is definitely troubling. A former Prime Minister, who is now the leader of the Parliamentary opposition and who once defeated the greatest conqueror since Caesar, does not cross the Atlantic in midwinter simply to tour our Dominion.
“No, the Duke is here on the King’s business. And, whatever that business is, it is our business to ascertain.” Calhoun paused and glanced around the room at his confederates.
“Senator Tyler will introduce Troup and me to Wellington tonight and lead the conversation towards the slavery issue. As John has indicated, Sir Arthur has expressed a disquieting interest in it since arriving here. We must determine how strong that interest is.
“The rest of you should be sure to speak individually to the Governor-General concerning Texas. We want Jackson to know he has support on that issue for taking on the Foreign Office. I do not, of course, have any firm idea of his agenda for this special session, but we must not forego this opportunity to debate Texas on the floor of both Houses. So we need a strong statement from him in his speech to open the session.”
With that, the group adjourned to prepare for the state dinner.
___________
Count Nicholas Ignatieff was satisfied. Count Renkowiitz had taken one look at Ignatieff’s directive from the Czar---the one Terravenissian and the other fools in London failed to discover hidden in the handle of the long pistol returned to me when I boarded that damned Pride of the Hudson---and ceded him control of the Consulate.
Ignatieff had predetermined to leave Renkowiitz (if found willing and able) in nominal charge of the Consulate’s day-to-day activities, but answerable, of course, to him. For that reason, the Consul would be attending tonight’s dinner at the residence of this colonial Governor-General, Jackson. The last thing Count Nicholas wanted was to draw attention to either the Consulate or himself while he familiarized himself with the situation and the players. He had ordered Renkowiitz to attend, taking with him the beautiful young Countess Caroline (perhaps there’d be time to attend to her at some point!), while he explored this drab little village in his ‘Karlhamanov’ guise.
Ignatieff had already learned that the capital had been stunned when Wellington had unexpectedly ridden in; this “state dinner” was in his honor. According to Renkowiitz, all the C-Gs in the city would attend, along with members of the Dominion government and what few ranking military figures there were. Renkowiitz had also mentioned that Jackson had called a special session of the provincial parliament for next week. Count Karl mentioned the issues, but emancipation of the slaves was not among them. Apparently, Wellington had not yet broken that news to Jackson or anyone else.
At Ignatieff’s direction, the Consulate’s political/intelligence staffer, Captain Alexei Drago, had been called in and ordered to prepare a briefing for Thursday morning on the overall political situation in the USBA. With that information and anything Renkowiitz came up with at the state dinner, he could then begin to develop a plan to identify any potential ‘rebel’ leaders.
Count Nicholas had also probed Drago about Captain Bratton, but neither he nor Count Karl knew anything about him. The Count did vaguely recall seeing an officer who matched Bratton’s description at the Liaison Office’s welcoming reception 10 days before, but he had been just another in a group of British Army officers who had stayed close to the Duke. Drago’s assignment had thus been expanded to prepare a dossier on the Captain for the Thursday meeting.
Now, with Drago hard at work and Renkowiitz preparing for the affair at The Residency---a pretentious old building that seemed almost quarantined by its surrounding parkland from the rest of the city---he would assume his ‘dissident’ persona and do some personal exploring…
___________
Lieutenant Wilder had been through a year’s worth of planning for various White House social functions, but he had never yet seen anything like the tension and frenzy that marked the preparation for this evening’s affair.
General Jackson was pulling out all the stops to impress his former commander, exhibiting a lack of concern for cost that matched a previously suppressed appreciation of and taste for sophistication.
Old Burr is supposed to be the gentleman of the age, according to my grandfather, but the G-G certainly seems to know how to throw a banquet. Once he’s in the mood to do so….
Once again the oval room with its view of the Virginia hills (Arlington House sitting atop the nearest) was to serve as the initial reception room. This time, however, the formal dining room was dominated by a long centered table with elaborate candelabra placed in front of every fourth or fifth set of facing chairs. Other tables hugged each wall; the various courses would be deposited here in quantity so the servants could then present servings to the five or six guests each was assigned.
Tom was shocked at the number of courses to be served: an elaborate chowder was to be followed by game, to be followed by the main meats: hams, roasts of beef and various lamb and pork specialities. The side dishes were to include mashed
and roasted potatoes, sweet meats, several green vegetables, rice, turnips, cauliflower, corn and roasted onions, as well as a creamed oyster dish that he had not encountered previously. All this to be washed down with nine separate wines (judging by the nine wine glasses arranged around each table setting). Deserts were listed on the menu to include iced creams, cakes, pies and French custard.
I’m glad all I have to do is meet and greet the guests. You couldn’t pay me enough to assume the responsibility of preparing all these courses…and seeing that they are served at the appropriate temperatures!
It was now 3:30 p.m. and Tom was back at the Indian Queen, changing into his formal dark blue uniform with the gold stripe down each pant leg. The last time he had donned the uniform, Candice had ripped several of the gold buttons off in her haste to attack him while her carriage yet rolled---bumped---its way back to her townhouse, he remembered with a grin. No such luck tonight, though: he’d be on duty till the final guests were shown to their carriages and both the G-G and the Duke had retired to the upper floor. Anyway, Candice is safely home at Twin Peaks and Lucille---he still hadn’t heard from her since the botched dinner engagement, he thought disheartenly---won’t be here either. At least, she’s not on the guest list.
No, tonight will be all work…which, come to think about it…will be a pleasure.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Georgetown, D.C.
Early Evening,
February 13, 1833:
Forty-five minutes later, Lieutenant Wilder, dress uniform freshly crisp and black boots shining (he had taken a for-hire hack from his hotel), stood inside the Main Portico awaiting the arrival of the first guests.
“Lieutenant! In your formal duds! Then again, I recall you did mention when first met that Residency social aide is one of your jobs!”
Captain Bratton was in his formal Coldstream Guards attire, bemedalled and glittering.
“Yes Captain. On the rare occasions such as this, my intelligence function is limited to joint introductions of people who probably know each other better than I know either party. As well as keeping single diplomats away from Congressional wives…and single Congressmen away from diplomatic and Congressional wives…”
Bratton laughed: “Lechery, lechery---still wars and lechery---nothing else holds fashion.” At Tom’s blank look, Harry shook his head. “Not a Shakespeare scholar, eh Lieutenant? Or hasn’t the Bard yet arrived on these virgin shores?”
Tom reddened at the Englishman’s condescension. “Shakespeare was not a part of the curriculum at the Point, Captain Bratton. Though I’m sure he’s a favorite at Harvard and Columbia. I’m afraid my recall fades somewhere after ‘Friends, Romans, countrymen…’ Speaking of lechery: how did you enjoy the Golden Eagle?”
Now it was the British officer’s turn to stiffen. “Most interesting, Lieutenant. You are correct, however: there have been some subtle changes. By the way, how late did you and Mr. Harper stay?”
“I left Dave at the bar at approximately 9:30, Captain. He was talking about a nightcap but I had an early day today, what with preparations for this dinner and all.” And how about yourself, Captain, did Joanne let you out of bed before dawn? Maybe I should inquire among the Residency ushers…
Bratton was frowning. “A ‘nightcap,’ you say? Don’t think I’ve heard that word before. To what does it refer?”
“Means a last drink before leaving, Captain. So I would say David was probably there till at least 10 p.m.”
“Mr. Harper appears quite the night owl…”
“He doesn’t seem to need much sleep, that’s certain. It will be interesting to see if he is here tonight. The Interior Department’s been invited, but the new Secretary, Mr. MacLane, hasn’t arrived in town yet. David may exercise the invitation himself. There are certain people here he hopes to see…”
“That reminds me, Lieutenant. In reviewing the guest list with His Grace, it occurred to us that only, shall we say, titled personages and their ladies have been invited. Yet I recall the planter class and other ordinary citizens at these affairs in the past, even under the Adamses.”
Tom smiled. “That’s an astute observation, Captain. It was the G-G’s decision to restrict this affair. I believe he feels the Duke should meet ‘official’ Georgetown first. As he tours the Dominion, he’ll dine with more than enough planters and others, I believe the thinking is.”
Harry’s prodigious forehead was puckered. “Yes, I see. But the planters are still part of the capital’s social life, you say?”
“On most any other occasion, yes. In fact, there were quite a few here for the last affair, the G-G’s Christmas reception.”
“And do you know them, Lieutenant? The individual planters, I mean?”
Tom’s guard was suddenly up. If this one’s inquiring after Lucille, I’m going to be more than a little perturbed. “Anyone in particular Captain Bratton?”
“Ah, yes. I had been introduced to a Maryland planter and his wife, Colonel and Mrs. Samples, some months before I returned to England. The Colonel was then involved, unfortunately, in a deadly riding accident, as I recall. Does his widow ever come to town? Or has she remarried?”
Tom’s relief that Bratton’s interest was not in Lucille was offset---to his amazement--by feelings of unexpected jealousy over Candice. So this is one of her old paramours. Man gets around better than Harper…Joanne and Candice. Well, let’s steer him back to the Eagle...
“Mrs. Samples has been here occasionally, Captain. She and the G-G are rather close. I’ve heard her say that the General helped her immensely after her loss. I believe she spends much of her time at her plantation, however.”
Bratton was nodding his head. “I see. Yes, I do recall that Colonel Samples and General Jackson were old comrades from their Louisiana days. And the General lost his wife at about the same time…”
The first carriages were beginning to arrive. Just in time, thought Tom, I’ve got to think this one through…
“Well Captain, our evening begins. I believe that is Mr. Van Buren’s carriage, with Mr. Webster coming up the grounds on foot. Time for us both to play social aide.”
___________
Georgetown, D.C.
February 13, 1833, 7:30 p.m.:
Count Ignatieff had spent much of the day exploring Georgetown’s various landmarks and other geographical points of interest. He always made a habit of studying the terrain; one could never tell when a vantage point or escape route might come in handy.
He had stopped at the unfinished Capitol and toured the quiet hallways. Groups of what he presumed to be legislators were meeting informally, while other sharp-eyed men waited to part the groups into ones and twos. He had also familiarized himself on the locations of the various consulates and the British Liaison Office. Later he had, of course, ridden down Pennsylvania Avenue to The Residency, studying the old mansion from the park.
The Count had assumed his Karlhamanov persona before leaving his own Consulate; the eye patch and expensive civilian clothing donned in his quarters before speaking with Renkowiitz, who was preparing for this so-called ‘state dinner.’ Drago was still inquiring into the background of Captain Bratton and thus had nothing new to report, though he expected some word from his source inside the Liaison Office before Ignatieff’s planned meeting with the British official the following evening at the Golden Eagle. The Consul had departed for the formal dinner in late afternoon, taking his daughter with him. Countess Caroline, he had broadly hinted, was quickly assuming a position of popularity amongst the younger portion of Georgetown society.
Ignatieff was now on his way to the Eagle, unaware and unconcerned if the British had decided to trail him. He thought he might have detected someone following him early in the afternoon at the Capitol, but had decided it was simply a member of the building’s staff. (As a Russian security chief, Ignatieff was accustomed to clouds of agents tracking foreigners in official---and non-official---St. Petersburg locations.)
As Count Nicho
las paused outside the Eagle, he recalled that his last---successful---amorous adventure had come with the unfortunate London chambermaid. The low profile he had kept on the voyage over and while traveling in Bratton’s company had excluded any physical contact. Not that there was anyone in range on that damn ship who interested me, Nicholas thought with a slight shudder. But Bratton had hinted that this tavern was a lively spot; perhaps he’d end his sexual fast with an American barmaid. It will be interesting to see how bawdy these colonials are. From his stopovers with the Captain, it seemed the Americans liked to have a good time. Well, let’s find out. I’m due for a good time myself.
The Count was disappointed with his first impression of the Eagle’s congregation. A tall, skinny, diseased-looking fellow presided at the mostly deserted main bar. Ignatieff, remembering the pitiful husband/bartender at the South Jersey inn, suddenly wondered if all American taverns posted their most innocuous, passive individuals behind the taps.
A fleshy blond well past her prime added to the distinct lack of luster, in the Count’s eyes. My God, is Bratton’s taste this bad? This floozy looks like she’s already taken on fully half the Ukrainian Cossacks…
The blond, whose meaty hands matched her heavy breasts, carefully looked the stranger up and down before addressing the bartender as Ignatieff strode casually to the bar. “Another newcomer, Richard. Georgetown is brimming with them this month. And, pray tell, how did this gentleman hear of our lovely establishment?”
The sickly-looking man behind the bar, whose tall, shallow demeanor reminded Ignatieff of an over-ripe corn stork, grunted in return before addressing his new customer. “What’ll it be? We’ve every beer known to man…and some you’ve likely never tried. Plus enough wine and more potent liquers to take the edge off your travels…”
