The Dominion's Dilemma: The United States of British America

by James Devine

  An audible gasp rose from several sections of the long table, while Jackson seemed ready, in Wellington’s view, to hurl his half-filled wine glass directly into Calhoun’s face. The G-G’s own face was suddenly a blackish-red, with the veins visible on his high forehead.

  Frank Blair, however, sitting directly across from Jackson, had silently communicated with Emily Donelson, sitting at the G-G’s right. Emily and Sara Polk, sitting at his left and next to Wellington, had managed to restrain Jackson from rising in retort. Jackson was almost incoherent with rage, however, until the new Vice-G-G rose splendidly to the occasion.

  Though so short that guests far down the table had trouble seeing him, Van Buren, in a remarkably loud tone---for him---had offered a toast: “Our beloved monarch, King William! Our unity within his Empire has never been stronger!”

  Wellington himself had then stepped into the breach, quickly rising to respond: “The United States of British America: jewel of His Majesty’s Empire!”

  The round of cheers, relief most audible, rocked the room as the tension slowly dissipated and the next course was passed. At least Andy keeps a passable table, Wellington thought with a grin. Even the diplomats seem satisfied…

  The next spat of trouble came just minutes later. One of the other Southerners, McDuffie, he understood from this Mrs. Polk (and what is her connection to our G-G?), had risen to propose a toast: “Our Dominion: transcontinental its scope and glory!”

  A hush fell over the gathering as the Mexican Counsel-General angrily rose and then, apparently deciding against a harsh response, stalked from the room.

  Like the buzzing of swarms of angry bees, the noise again rose as shocked guests speculated on the consequences of the offended Mexican’s actions. Jackson himself, having apparently regained his good humor since the clash with Calhoun, leaned across Mrs. Polk and spoke directly to the Duke. “I’m afraid Consul-General Valenzuela took that toast of McDuffie’s a bit too literally, Sir Arthur. After all, the Empire’s flag already flies over the Pacific in the far Northwest….”

  “Why, those Mexicans have a rather exalted opinion of themselves, I do believe.” Sara Polk. “Just because they chased the Dons from Mexico City doesn’t give them the right to claim the rest of North America. Sam Houston says they have less than a thousand troops and settlers in all of Texas. And even less in the lands to the west.

  “Yet I have heard Senor Valenzuela say that our conquest of the Louisiana Territory is illegal under international law since Spain was coerced into handing it over to Napoleon. As the rightful descendants of the Dons, he says, all the West belongs to Mexico!”

  It was the first time the tricky Texas situation had come up since Wellington had arrived. Though, he had intended to raise it with Jackson when they settled into serious discussions on the emancipation question in the next few weeks. He decided to defuse it, for the evening at least, with a joke:

  “Well, my dear Mrs. Polk, since I threw the French out of Spain before the Dons were thrown out of Mexico, perhaps I have a pre-existing claim on Texas myself!”

  Though Jackson’s laugh had sounded hearty, the mirth had not seemed to originate in his chest. Across the table, Wellington met Frank Blair’s troubled eyes. So, this closest advisor is worried about the Texas issue getting out of hand, too. Must have a private chat with Blair at some point soon…

  The evening’s third flashpoint---do bad omens always come in threes, the Duke idlely wondered---came as the men chatted in small groups over after-dinner cigars and brandy.

  Webster, whom Wellington was learning was perhaps the most influential of the Northeastern Congressional contingent, was arguing the nullification question with Tyler and Troup on constitutional grounds: “My dear colleagues, you must admit that judicial acceptance of nullification as a state’s right would hamstring the Dominion government. We would descend into a veritable Dante’s Inferno of legislative madness if every bill were subject to the veto of a minority of as few as one state. How could the Dominion govern, knowing its mandate was invalid in some states, but the law of the land in others? Pure madness!”

  Tyler was shaking his head vigorously. “The thirteen independently-governed colonies which automatically became states when the Colonial Compact was ratified joined the Dominion voluntarily, Mr. Webster. None forfeited its rights to self-government; the Dominion is simply a confederation that keeps the peace, encourages free trade and provides a uniform monetary system. Virginia did not come into the Dominion to forfeit the rights she previously enjoyed! And Virginia will not accept outsiders determining policies which directly affect her. No, Mr. Webster, the Governor-General is in error: neither South Carolina nor any other state must accept laws which are harmful to its self-interest!”

  Bratton had approached the Duke with Jackson and Blair, but Wellington motioned for quiet as Webster began his counter-retort. “Let us call a spade a spade, Senator: it is not some damn fool tariff that has you upset. It is the danger to your ‘peculiar institution!”

  The just-arrived G-G burst into the silence that accompanied the Massachusetts Senator’s blunt assessment: “Mr. Webster, do not attempt to confuse the issues. The ‘peculiar institution’ was 150 years old when the Colonial Compact was signed. Tariff issues were not even dreamed of then. The Dominion must---and will---conduct economic policy that allows for the collection of tariffs and other taxes vital to the financing of the government! Whether it is to the benefit of all the member-states or simply a majority thereof. Laws passed by the Congress for the overall Dominion good will be enforced! Nullification is not an option in this regard.

  “But an institution of such historic character---which does not impede the economic progress of states in which it is not currently implemented---must be left to evolve independently. The South does not tell New England how to operate its fishing industry nor New York or Pennsylvania its manufactories. Do not tell the South how to plant and harvest the crops necessary for its own survival! The institutions of the South must be allowed to evolve naturally. Nullification is not even an issue, much less an option, in this regard, as no Dominion legislation concerning slavery is now, or will ever be, constitutional in the first place. Sir!”

  Wellington’s gaze had been drawn past the immediate confrontation to a dark figure standing behind Senator Tyler. John C. Calhoun, for the first time all evening, had had the slightest of smiles on his formerly rigid face…

  A knock on the bedroom door interrupted the Duke’s review of the evening. The Governor-General was indisposed this morning, an usher reported. Might the Duke be instead free for a 5 p.m. meal?

  ___________

  Russian Consulate

  Georgetown, D.C.

  February 14, 1833:

  While Count Renkowiitz had been only mildly surprised that Ignatieff had been reported off the grounds when he and his daughter, Caroline, had returned from The Residency late the previous evening, he had been shocked when Rossevich reported the unwanted visitor still missing this morning.

  Renkowiitz had debated sending for his security chief, Captain Drago, but word came in after 9:30 a.m. that Ignatieff, still wearing his eye patch, had arrived back at the complex. Count Nicholas had called for a warm bath before sending Renkowiitz instructions to meet him for a noontime meal.

  The danger that seemed to always radiate from Ignatieff---the sense of a wild animal ready to pounce---was somewhat lowered as the nominal head of the Russian legation joined the lounging Count Nicholas at table.

  “So, my dear Karl, you survived your evening in this colonial society, I see. What happened that may be of interest to Mother Russia, eh? Relate everything. I’ll make the judgment.” Nicholas’ eyes narrowed as if to emphasize his order.

  Count Karl reddened slightly but acknowledged his recognition of the command.

  “Despite the presence of the former British prime minister, my dear Count Nicholas, the tone of the dinner was about normal for this city: domestic politics dominated. These American
s are a quarrelsome, spoiled lot. Every issue that arises is looked at from a sectional perspective. I don’t believe they’ve agreed collectively on anything since the day they signed their famous Colonial Compact.”

  Ignatieff leaned back and raised his head to contemplate the ceiling as his right hand’s fingers began to tap impatiently on the tablecloth. “And what issues did they debate last evening, Count Renkowiitz, or were you too bored to pay attention?”

  “Tariffs and Texas predominated, Count Ignatieff. There was also some sort of a confrontation late in the evening between a Virginia senator and one of the Yankees, but the Governor-General intervened to mediate the argument. Though Jackson himself appeared somewhat agitated by the Northerner.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Well Count Nicholas, the Texas issue sent the Mexican Counsel-General away in a fury. I would enjoy reading the Liaison Office’s report to London regarding that.”

  “What got the Mexican so incensed?”

  Renkowiitz paused before answering. How deeply did Ignatieff want to dive into the murkiness of these colonial issues that he himself could not always fathom? “Someone proposed a toast to the “transcontinental glory” of the Dominion. Fernando Valenzuela immediately jumped up, but then stormed from the room without a word. The toast obviously angered him, but I heard later that even Governor-General Jackson was confused. As he reportedly said, the Dominion can be obviously be traced from here on the Atlantic Coast to some small settlements and forts on the Pacific well north of Mexican California.”

  “Perhaps, Count Karl, it is not the British presence in the Pacific Northwest that offends Senor Valenzuela’s sensibilities?”

  The permanent Russian representative in Georgetown slowly sipped his chilled white wine before responding. His daughter had raised the same point on the return carriage ride last night. But should Caroline’s opinion be brought to the attention of his superior? For a variety of professional as well as personal reasons?

  “Yes, Consul-General? I breathlessly await your considered opinion…”

  “Count Ignatieff, as I have indicated, my daughter Caroline is taking her place among the younger set in what passes for society in this frontier village.

  “Last night she offered the opinion, based on talk from within that set, that Texas is becoming a point of contention here between the slaveholding Southerners and those in the North known as ‘abolitionists’ for their desire to free the Southerners’ slaves. The South is apparently looking to expand into Texas; the abolitionists are opposed and the Mexicans obviously have gotten wind of the controversy. Or so the talk goes.”

  Perhaps Countess Caroline should be the C-G instead of her big dumb oaf of a father, Ignatieff thought dryly.

  “Shall we ask the young Countess to join us? I would be interested in her other impressions of last night…as well as any other insights into the political situation here which may have escaped her father’s attention.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the Countess, pulled from an English language class she taught the Consulate’s children thrice weekly, was seated at the table.

  “Thank you for joining us Countess. Although this is our first official meeting, your father has impressed upon me your, shall we say, familiarity, with the British American political situation. Amassed, he proudly adds, by your successful admission into the highest ranks of the younger social set here in the capitol. My congratulations.”

  While impressed by Nicholas---he was even handsomer than whispered in the Consulate’s hallways---she was not taken in. Caroline’s slender physique camouflaged an iron will, while her youthful blond looks distracted most observers from a sharp intelligence. She had digested the rumors about this Count Ignatieff---lifelong friend of the Czar, ruthless man of action, sexual predator---and had been on guard since his arrival. She knew of her father’s misapprehensions about having him here and so was determined to feed him any such information that might speed him on his way.

  “While my dear father is of course most knowledgeable about the goings-on in this city, Count Nicholas, I too sometimes hear thing that can be helpful. What is it that I may perhaps expand upon?”

  “As your father has so succinctly put it, Countess: tariffs and Texas. Also, I understand there was quite the little public spat involving the Governor-General and some of his guests late in last night’s affair. Tell us about these events from your perspective.”

  Caroline paused only briefly before explaining the tension surrounding the toasts. Ignatieff’s expression remained gravely neutral as she explained the nullification issue, but his eyes began to glow at her analysis of the background of the Texas toast.

  A dawning look of excitement followed when she tied slavery into both issues.

  “So, if I understand you correctly Countess, the Southerners intend to use this nullification theory to stop any government attempts to abolish slavery here in the USBA in the short term, while wanting to expand into Texas in order to increase the political power they now enjoy. Which in turn would help them maintain their ‘peculiar institution’ here? Am I correct?”

  Caroline smiled. “Yes, Count Nicholas. In fact, the Southerners want to expand all the way into Mexican California, adding pro-slavery states as they proceed.”

  “And our poor little settlements around Fort Ross?”

  “I doubt very much, Sir, that the Southerners are even aware of our presence in northern California.”

  Ignatieff nodded and called for a refill of wine for himself and Count Karl, while offering Renkowiitz’s daughter a glass she demurely refused. He enjoyed her obvious discomfort with him but sated from his night with the remarkable Joanne---as wild a sexual partner as he had known---his mind this day was focused entirely on matters of state.

  “There are several players here who interest me,” he said, looking from Renkowiitz to the girl. “This Jackson seems equivocal; he is against nullification when it suits his purposes, yet seems passively in favor on other occasions. Am I right to assume he is a slaveholder?

  “Then there is this man who gave the original nullification toast. As a Southerner, he is opposed to any attempt by the Dominion government to override local preferences, correct?”

  Renkowiitz nodded. “Yes Count Nicholas, Calhoun is the leader of the Southerners, the ones they call the ‘fire-eaters.’ He champions this theory of ‘states rights’ and wants a weak central government. He was Jackson’s vice governor-general until they broke on the tariff issue last year.”

  Ignatieff wolf’s grin suddenly broke out: “But he and this Jackson are still in agreement on slavery, yes?”

  The Countess looked at her father before replying. “It is assumed so, Count Nicholas. Especially in view of the Governor-General’s reply to Senator Webster last night….”

  “…but that is a non-issue, if you will, my dear Count.” Her father interrupted. “Since slavery is not an issue at this time. Calhoun is thinking and planning down the years when his opponents may have gathered enough strength to make it an issue. Jackson thinks only of now.”

  Ignatieff abruptly stood up. “Thank you for your insights, both of you. I must consider all you have said. We will talk again.” He bowed and walked briskly from the room, leaving the Renkowiitzs to stare at each other.

  ___________

  War Department

  Georgetown, D.C.

  February 14, 1833:

  General Scott’s grim demeanor this morning surprised Lieutenant Wilder, as well as the rest of the staff. They knew the General loved a party and thus had anticipated that last night’s state dinner would put him in a good frame of mind for the remainder of the week.

  Scott had stamped noisily and darkly through the hallway to his office shortly after 8 a.m., however, and had let the door slam behind him. The door stayed closed, except for one brief summons for Secretary Beaufort, until after 10:30. When Wilder heard himself summoned, he shrugged his shoulders at the silent questions from the other staffers as to the situation
.

  Thomas found the General standing over his desk, head-down studying maps, with other papers strewn across the desk. Scott’s ever-present coffee mug was steaming; apparently the General had grabbed a refill after calling for him.

  “Is that door shut tightly behind you, Lieutenant?” Scott asked without looking up. “If it is, sit down.”

  Scott kept turning his head from maps to papers, as if crossing off or matching up locales and information on the sheets. It was almost five minutes before he sighed, sat down and addressed Thomas:

  “Tell me, Lieutenant, did you monitor that interesting little debate over the cigars and brandy between Senators Webster and Tyler last evening? Or were you occupied elsewhere?”

  “Not first hand, Sir. I saw the Senators talking, but Mr. Cass was, ah, expressing his dismay over his seating arrangements to Andrew Donelson and me at that time.”

  Scott shook his head in disgust but made no comment before proceeding. “Well, Lieutenant, you missed out on an historic occasion. The first debate of the most serious crisis the Dominion has ever faced.”

  Wilder waited, but Scott only rose and walked over to the window facing The Residency and the Potomac. After a silence of several minutes, the General turned and, with a strange light in his eye, asked: “Well, Lieutenant, no comment? Where’s that famous feistiness?”

  “I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t realize you were asking for my opinion. Was our theory correct, then, that London is imposing some sort of a slavery tax?”

  “No Lieutenant, I’m afraid not. In fact, if only that theory had panned out…

  “You see, the distinguished gentleman from Massachusetts opened up Pandora’s Box last night. And General Jackson, instead of slamming it closed, ripped the cover right off. As the Duke of Wellington watched.”

  Wilder could feel the drill of Scott’s piercing stare cutting through him, but was confused by Scott’s choice of metaphor. “I don’t understand, General. If this is not about slavery, then what is this about?”