The Purchase Price; Or, The Cause of Compromise

by Emerson Hough

  CHAPTER XXIII

  IM WASHINGTON

  Meantime, the storm dreaded as so immediate by the administrationat Washington--the organization of a new political party, born ofthe unrest over the slavery question--had spent its force, and,temporarily, long since had muttered away in the distance, leavingscarce a trace behind it on the political sky. Austria, England,the Old World creeds of monarchies arrayed against populargovernments, had their way at our capital, where the birth of anactual democracy impended. Active leadership by revolutioniststrained in Europe was suppressed, removed; as in one instance wehave seen. One abolitionist mass-meeting followed another in thosedays, but the results of all were much the same. Protests anddeclamation abounded, plan and leadership lacked. The strainedcompromise held. Neither war nor a new party came as yet, disunionwas not yet openly attempted. Moreover, there was a deliberateintent upon an era of good feeling. Whig and Democrat alike forcedthemselves to settle down into the belief that peace had come. Ifmen were slaves, why, let them be slaves. At that time thenational reflex was less sensitive than it later became withincreased telegraphic and news facilities. Washington was notalways promptly and exactly advised of the political situation inthis or that more remote portion of the country. This very fact,however, meant a greater stability in the political equilibrium.Upon the western borders the feeling of unrest now became mostmarked; and, more swiftly than was generally recognized, importantmatters there were going forward; but even in that direction,declared the prophets of peace, all now was more calm than it hadbeen for years.

  Six years before this time Mr. Wilkins, secretary of war, hadproposed to organize Nebraska Territory and to extend thither thearmy posts; and in that same year Stephen A. Douglas, then of theHouse, had introduced a bill for the organization of Nebraska; butneither effort had had result. Two years later, Douglas, then inthe Senate, once more sought to test the Squatter Sovereignty idearegarding the new western lands, but once more a cold silence methis attempts. Six months after that time the same bill, with theintent of attaching Nebraska to the state of Arkansas, was killedby Congress, because held to be dangerous. A third bill byDouglas, later in the same year, was also recommitted. The"Territory of the Platte" was the next attempt to be dropped. Allthese crude attempts were merged in the great Compromise of 1850.The might of party was brought to bear upon all questions ofprinciple, and the country was commanded to be calm; indeed for atime was calm. It was the time of manacled hands and of manacledminds. Our government was not a real democracy. The great Westhad not yet raised its voice, augmented by new millions of voicespealing the paean of liberty and opportunity for man.

  In this era of arrested activities, the energies of a restlesspeople turned otherwhere for interest. To relieve the monotony ofpolitical stagnation, popular attention was now turned toward theaffairs of Hungary. We could not solve our own problems, but wewere as ready to solve those of Europe as Europe was to offer usaid in ours. Therefore, instant interest attached to the news thata Hungarian committee of inquiry had landed upon our shores, withthe purpose of investigating a possible invitation from ourrepublic to the Hungarian patriot, Kossuth, then in exile in Turkey.

  The leader of this mission was General Zewlinski, an officer of thepatriot army of Hungary, who brought with him a suite of some dozenpersons. These, late in the winter of 1850-51, arrived atWashington and found quarters of somewhat magnificent sort in oneof the more prominent hotels of the national capital. At oncepolitical and journalistic Washington was on the _qui vive_. TheHungarians became the object of a solicitude, not to say acuriosity, which must at times have tried their souls.

  The first formal action of the Hungarian committee took the shapeof a return reception, to be held in the hotel parlors. Theinvitations, liberal as they were, were sought for quite in excessof the supply, and long before the doors were open, it was quiteassured that the affair would be a crush. The administration, forwhich Mr. Webster, our secretary of state, had not hesitated towrite in most determined fashion to the attache Hulsemann regardingthe presumptuous Austrian demands upon our government, none the lesswas much in a funk regarding "European obligations." Not wishing tooffend the popular fancy, and not daring to take decisive stand, theusual compromise was made. Although no member of the administrationwas sent officially to recognize these unofficial ambassadors, along suffering officer of the navy, with his wife and one or twoother ladies, were despatched quasi-officially to lend color to theoccasion.

  Such splendor as could be arranged had been provided for thesetting of this event. A Hungarian orchestra, brought with thesecommissioners, discoursed its peculiar music beyond a screen ofpalms and flowers. One of the great parlors had been prepared forthose of the young who could not resist the temptation to dance.At the head of the little line of these visitors, now themselves ineffect hosts, stood the old Hungarian general, Zewlinski, anofficer over six feet in height, with white hair and wide whitemustaches, a distinguished figure in the brilliant Hungarianuniform. Those of his staff near by added additional vividness tothe picture. The ladies of the party, half of whom spoke English,were costumed quite in keeping, and endeavored by the graciousnessof their manner to add to the good impression already formed bytheir more brilliant companions. Here and there the more soberuniform of an American army or navy officer might have been seen,brought thither on demand of his lady. The ladies themselves wereout in force, and in their most brilliant array. The doors had notbeen opened for a half hour before all prophecies were more thanfulfilled. The rooms were packed with a struggling mass ofhumanity, all eager to grasp the hand of the representative ofHungary and of the members of his company. Patriotism, liberty,brotherly love were in the speech of all. Never has our countrybeen more full of zeal for liberty than then, never moreinconsistent, never more swiftly forgetful.

  In these circumstances, the somewhat bewildered commissioners didwhat they could graciously to discover to all their friendlyfeeling toward this country. For more than an hour they stood inline, bowing, smiling, accepting hands, offering greetings, alittle wondering perhaps, yet none the less well assured of theattitude of this people toward their own country, and hoping theremight later be substantial financial proof of its sincerity.

  It was at about this time that there entered at the door near thehead of the receiving line a young woman, for the time apparentlyquite unattended. She was brilliantly robed, with jewels flashingat neck and wrists, clad like a queen and looking one. Of goodheight and splendid carriage, her dark hair and singularly strikingfeatures might at first have caused the belief that she was one ofthis party of foreigners, toward whom she now advanced. A secondglance would have shown her beauty to be of that universalworld-quality which makes its owner difficult to classify, althoughassured of approval in any quarter of the world.

  Clad like a queen and looking one.]

  That this lady was acquainted with social pageants might have beenin the first instant quite evidenced by her comportment here. Manyeyes turned toward her as she approached the head of the line. Shewas unconscious of all, lazily, half-insolently observant, yetwholly unconcerned. Some observers choked back a suddenexclamation. A hush fell in the great room, then followed a lowbuzzing of curious or interested, wise or ignorant human bees.

  There were many in Washington social circles who knew by sight orby reputation Josephine, Countess St. Auban, no longer than sixmonths ago pronounced by one journal of the capital to be the mostbeautiful and the most dangerous woman in Washington. Yet even themost hostile of these suddenly suspended judgment as they saw heradvance met now by that of the old Hungarian general himself. Withthe enthusiasm of a boy he fell upon her, both his hands extended.

  "Countess--my dear child--at last you are here!" he exclaimed.Taking her by the hand he led her back to the line of his officialcompany, volleying rapid exclamations in his native tongue. Eagergroups fell into line near at hand, seeking to know what was toward.

  "You left us!" at leng
th exclaimed the old general, politelyspeaking in his best English, since these others were thus bound tohear. "Where you had gone we did not know. It was as though theheavens had opened. See then, Sir,"--he addressed the navalofficer who stood near at hand--"the Countess St. Auban was one ofthe most important members of our little company--she was to comein advance of us, who also are in advance of a greater number. Fora time we heard from her, then all was silent! She haddisappeared!--But now, at last, my dear Countess, you are here! Weshall succeed, it is certain; henceforth you will be of our party.Is it not true?"

  Political, social and journalistic Washington then and there beggeda sudden though silent pardon of the Countess St. Auban. A fewjournalists left the room quickly. An attache of the Austrianlegation also hurriedly took his leave.

  "But where have you been, my dear?" again demanded GeneralZewlinski, his hand again affectionately grasping that of JosephineSt. Auban. "We have so missed you."

  "I have been visiting some of the more remote parts of thiscountry," replied she in even tones.

  "So, then, you have not forgotten our mission from Hungary! Well,now we shall surely have the invitation for our Kossuth to come?Is it not true?"

  "Assuredly, my dear General. You will find this country eager tomeet him. But alas! I fear that Kossuth himself will find problemsalso in this country."

  "Our own problem--our cause, dear Countess?"

  "Pardon, General, really it is also the cause of this country. Wethink that in Hungary democracy is in peril. It is not less sohere."

  "But, my dear child, you would not cast doubt upon our plans,--youhave not become lukewarm to our cause so soon, my dear?"

  "No, no, General. But Europe does not understand America. Americadoes not understand herself. I ask only that the great men of thatcountry shall see the great problems of this. There we could winfreedom by sword and gun. Here also that must yet be done. Thetime for such means has not yet arrived. Yet here also evil criesaloud. Soon war must come, here also--bloody war. We ask fundsfor Hungary. America soon will need funds for herself."

  "Ah, you mean this problem of the North and South--of slavery."The face of the old general became grave. "I have talked withmany," said he. "It seems incapable of solution. But have notyour brilliant faculties, my dear Countess, suggested any solution?We learned to value your counsel over yonder."

  "What could a mere woman do in a matter vast as this? My General,not all the wisdom of this country has suggested a remedy. I ambut a woman and not wise. He who attempts to solve this slaveryquestion must do what no statesman in all history has been able todo, what human wisdom here has failed to do for fifty years ormore. America has spent thirty years of statesmanship on this onequestion, and is just where it started. This country, as ThomasJefferson said so long ago, still has the wolf by the ear, but hasnot killed it and dare not let it go. Out there--where I havebeen--in the West--there the new battle must be fought. Now, myGeneral, what difference, whether America shall help Europe. orEurope shall help America? The battle for democracy must befought, in this generation, perhaps again in the next. What wouldbe the result of that war, if either section won to the destructionof this Union? Ah! _there_, my General, is the danger to Hungary,the danger to Europe, to the cause of freedom and humanity. As Isaid, Kossuth will find things here to engage his best attention."

  "I know your generosity," said Zewlinski, swiftly leading her apartand gazing her straight in the face as he spoke, in low tones noneelse might hear. "I know how you got your estates yonder--how widehanded you have been with your revenues. I know your strange,unhappy life, my dear. But have a care. Do not make that lifemore unhappy. Do not let your penitence, your devotion, yourself-abnegation, carry you too far. Listen; times are verytroublous abroad. The nations are banding against us--even France.He who gives may take. Let me tell you, be careful. Do notinvolve yourself. Do not jeopardize the good will of LouisNapoleon. Do not let your warm heart endanger your own goodfortune."

  She laughed almost gaily. "You suggest an idea, my General!" shesaid. "I still am rich. Since I advocate a measure, why should Inot enforce it to the best of my ability? Let Louis Napoleon do ashe likes with the widow of a man he murdered! Bring over ourfriend Louis Kossuth, General, as soon as you like! Meantime, Ishall be busy here, seeking to set on foot certain little plans ofmy own."

  "My child, you will be lost! Forget these matters. Come back withus to our own country. You are young, you are beautiful. You area woman. As a patriot we love you, but you are a woman, and wewould not rob you of your life. You are young. You did not loveold St. Auban, who took you from your American mother. You did notlove him--but you will love some other--some young, strong man.Many have sought your hand, my dear."

  "You call me a lost child, General? Ah, you remember the term! Atmany battles there is what is known as the forlorn hope--those whomthe French call _Les enfants perdus_--The Lost Children. Perhapsthey perish. But at the next battle, at the crucial time, theyrise again from the dead. Always there is the band of the LostChildren, ready to do what must be done. And always, at the lastmoment, are battles won by those who remain devoted, whatever bethe cause."

  Zewlinski nodded his gray head gravely. "It was thus my own sonsdied in battle," said he. "It was as I would have had it. Butyou--you are a woman! These things are not for you."

  "See," she interrupted, gently tapping his arm with her fan. "Wemust not be too much apart. Let us return."

  As they turned back toward the head of the line, Josephine gave ahalf-exclamation. Two figures were approaching, each of whichseemed to her familiar. An instant later she had recognized theyoung northern officer, Carlisle, whom she had met under suchsingular conditions. With him stalked the tall young German,Kammerer. Their eyes lighted suddenly, as they fell upon her, andboth advanced eagerly. There was new dignity in her carriage now,but she greeted them warmly.

  Two figures were approaching.]

  "When we may, I shall hope to compare notes with you," she smiled."You are still on parole to me."

  "But you, Madam--you seem differently situated here. I am veryglad to find it so." Carlisle was eager, flushed, frankly admiring.

  "Yes, I scarce know which side the sea I belong. You know, I amhalf American, though my people lived abroad, in diplomatic work.By President Taylor I was chosen as one of the members of theHungarian commission sent over by America to look into the cause ofHungary. In return, last year I had the honor of being asked tocome to this country as one of the commission despatched to Americain the interest of Hungary. I came over a certain time in advance,for reasons of my own. Meantime, I have had, it seems--well, callthem adventures! I am not eager they should be known here. But ifyou like, you may call on me at my hotel--to-morrow?"

  Both recognized a slight additional trace of hauteur in thedeportment of the woman whom they now accosted. She herself saw asort of hesitation on the part of Carlisle.

  "I can't let you make any mistake about me," he began presently.

  "How do you mean?"

  "You are probably not advised about me. I'm a person of noconsequence."

  "An officer of his country's army can not say that of himself."

  "But, I am no longer an officer of any army. I have beencourt-martialed--for my conduct there--you know--that fight at St.Genevieve. My abolitionist tendencies have always made me _personanon grata_ in my own mess. There's been all sort of pressurebrought on me to drop it. Now the government itself, not wishingthese things to come to a focus, has ordered me to a court-martial.Very well, I've been sentenced. My parole is ended, for the lawhas acted on my conduct. Rather than go back many steps in rank, Ihave thrown up my commission. This morning I resigned. I amwearing my uniform, I don't doubt, for the last time."

  "And that, although you fought in the cause of freedom! Althoughyou have fought honorably in an earlier war! Is it not horrible!"

  "I could not do otherwise," said
he simply. "I have no regrets."

  "But don't you see,"--she turned upon him suddenly--"it only leavesyou all the more free!"

  "I can not understand you."

  "Will it not give you and your friend, Lieutenant Kammerer here,precisely the opportunity you've wished?"

  "Still I do not follow you."

  "My dear Countess," ventured the German, "I'll go anywhere underyour orders. You may be sure of that."

  She turned from them. "Come to my hotel, will you not, to-morrow?I may have something to say to you." Thus she passed back into thethrong, and into the arms of fickle and repentant Washington, whichmarveled when she danced, flushed, excited, yet absorbed, with thegallant old general, himself intoxicated by the music and by allthis warm talk of freedom, of equality, of democracy,--inWashington!