by Judith Pella
Jackson’s loud boisterous laugh sounded from the far end of the table, causing all heads to turn in hopes of hearing the cause. At this encouragement, the President easily broke into one of his stories.
“Mr. Adams just reminded me of a fine day we enjoyed together back in thirty-four. It seems we both had chanced to be present at the National Jockey Club to watch the trial races of the White House horses. These were some of the very best examples of horseflesh I have yet to this day seen.” Murmurs arose around York to acknowledge the President’s expertise in the area of horses. “Mr. Van Buren had come along,” the President continued, “as well as my nephew Jack and several others. York, you’ll be interested to know that fine stallion your father purchased a short time back was none other than the horse I put up that day.” York nodded acknowledgment and waited for Jackson to continue. “Bolivia was a fine animal, but better still was Busirus, a stallion owned by a friend of mine.” Everyone at the table was captive to his story, and Jackson reveled in the attention. “Well, it seems old Busirus was too much horse for the White House jockey. Who was riding that day, Mr. Van Buren?”
“I believe it was Jesse.” Martin Van Buren spoke up from where he sat beside his son, Major Abraham Van Buren.
“That’s right, it was. Well, Jesse was put atop Busirus, and before any of us knew it, the horse was stompin’ and snortin’ like he intended to breathe fire and brimstone down upon us. I yelled up to him to hold the animal, but that horse had a mind of its own. Then I spotted Mr. Van Buren dead center in the middle of that ordeal. I yelled, ‘Get behind me, Mr. Van Buren! They will run over you, sir!’ ” He paused, giving Van Buren a wink. “Seems I’ve been telling old Van the same thing ever since.” Laughter erupted, both genuine and staged. None was louder than Jackson’s own guffaws, however.
York thought it admirable that the President managed to maintain a sense of humor when so many in the country were against him. Truth be told, Jackson couldn’t count many men among his close friends. He had endured a great deal of backstabbing and bickering among his ranks, and to find one as loyal as Vice President Van Buren seemed an oddity indeed.
“Ladies, you must forgive me for boring you,” Jackson said, suddenly standing. “I suggest you retire to share a bit of gossip and music while we gentlemen make our way to some serious cigars and brandy.”
There was no question of doing other than they were directed. York watched the elegantly dressed women make their way to one room, while still another set of doors was opened to admit the men. York had no interest in either cigars or brandy, but he found the flow of conversation around him to be a superb after-dinner delight. Joining his father, who was already in conversation with Jackson, York stood by, engrossed in the matters being discussed.
“I was just telling the President,” Joseph said, turning to his son, “that you hope to obtain employment here in Washington.”
“Yes, sir, I do,” York said, wondering what more he could possibly add. Thus far his search had not been very encouraging. Two or three businessmen were interested in him, but York could not get excited about any of these prospects.
Jackson sucked in a deep breath on the smoking cigar clenched between his teeth and blew out again before speaking. “I could use another loyal man at my side.” With a wry smile he added, “Should I acquire one, it would bring the number to three.” He laughed loud and hard, and even York couldn’t keep from chuckling.
Jackson leaned over to add in a hushed voice, “And I’m not too sure about that number. My mulatto, George, is quite loyal, but sometimes I believe Mr. Van Buren is just along for the ride.” He laughed again, slapping York on the back. “So what do you think, Mr. Adams? Would you be interested in becoming my aide?”
York was too astonished to speak. What could he possibly say at a moment like this? The President of the United States was offering him a position. Even if it had been a job mucking out the stables, York would have been honored.
“I . . . I don’t understand,” York finally managed to stammer. “You’re offering me a job, Mr. President? Just like that?”
Jackson sobered. “Good men are increasingly hard to find. I trust your father implicitly. With you at my side, I can keep close tabs on what he has to say. The pay is good, although not the best, but the job has its benefits beyond wage.”
“I’m honored, sir,” York said with a slight bow. “I would consider myself privileged to work and learn at your side.”
Jackson smiled and turned a knowing look on Joseph. “Shall we place bets on how long he’ll stick to those words?”
Joseph laughed. “Now, Mr. President, you know I’m not a betting man. York has a certain interest in the politics of our country. Perhaps this type of position will give birth to a new political genius.”
“Better yet, maybe he’ll be the death of those old ninnies who seek to be the death of me.” Jackson’s eyes twinkled above a mischievous smile. “Besides, you can live on here near the White House, where we have fresh milk every morning.”
“I beg your pardon?” York frowned, thinking he’d missed something.
Jackson flicked ashes onto a tray held by a nearby servant. “Frank Blair, editor of the Globe, once heard of my dietary need for milk. So one day, he shows up bright and early, pail in one hand, pad of paper in the other. And he’s continued to do so for over two years now. I think he just comes to make sure no one has killed me off in the night. Frank couldn’t stand it if some other newspaper cut him out of a first run on a big event like that!”
York found it amazing Jackson could joke about such a thing, considering the attempt on his life earlier in the year. A deranged house painter had accosted him inside the Capitol rotunda, firing not one, but two pistols at point-blank range. Both weapons had misfired, an event calculated at one chance in one hundred and twenty-five thousand. Jackson escaped unharmed and had gone after the scalawag with his walking stick raised high in the air, but a young army officer reached the man first.
York admired the President’s bravado and suddenly realized he was going to enjoy working with this man. He’d heard a lot of controversial things about Andrew Jackson and criticism from his classmates up north. Jackson’s volatile temper was well documented. But, from his father, York also had been appraised of the man’s finer qualities, such as his generosity and loyalty to his friends. And now the great man was standing right in front him, and York had the opportunity to form his own opinion completely independent of those he’d held previously.
“When would you like me to start?” York asked without reservation.
“The sooner the better. There’s a great deal to be done. The next election is a year away, and we must mount our efforts now to ensure that Mr. Van Buren takes my place. And of course there’s the Texas matter.”
“What of the Texas matter?” eagerly asked a man unknown to York, who had just joined them.
“Ah yes,” Jackson said, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “Texas.”
Everyone in the room paused in their individual conversations to openly eavesdrop on this conversation. York, himself, wondered how things stood in that strange state of affairs.
“Texas is a problem I’ve long ignored,” Jackson replied. “I must admit, I spent so much energy trying to get back money from the French—no offense,” Jackson said, nodding to the Frenchman who’d dined at York’s side. “The matter took a great deal of my attention, and while I managed to recover those funds, I’m afraid Texas has had to wait.”
“But what of it now?” The same man who’d first broached the subject pressed the issue forward.
“Mr. Turner, that is a good question, but one that I fear I’m not yet ready to openly discuss. Let’s just say the matter is under consideration. I favor adding Texas to the United States but would prefer it be done by means of purchase and not by act of war.”
“Still, sir . . .”
Jackson held up his hand. “I believe I hear the ladies serving coffee. I suggest we join them.”
York watched the man effectively put in his place, but the issue was an intriguing one. Texas was an entire world away. Separated not only by the eastern mountains and hundreds of miles of open land, but by the mighty Mississippi River itself and, beyond that, yet more land. If there was war with Mexico over the issue, York might well be expected to take up arms in support of his country. He might actually find himself fighting in a battle for a place he’d never even seen before.
Thinking on this and the prospects of his new job, York was content to find the evening draw to a close. There were many questions he wanted to ask his father, and the ride back to the hotel in their hired carriage would provide a perfect opportunity.
“Mr. Adams, I’ll expect you at your earliest convenience,” Jackson stated in bidding farewell to York.
Joseph looked first to York and then to his friend. “We depart for Oakbridge in the morning. York can arrange his affairs and return to the city on the day after, if that meets with your approval.”
“It does indeed,” Jackson replied. “I’ll have arrangements made here for your lodging.”
It was pouring down a cold rain when they emerged from the White House. The ride back to the hotel was cold and damp, but York hardly noticed as he and his father discussed the events of the evening. The trip was far too short, and York’s curiosity was not even close to being satisfied. He would have kept his father up for hours longer that night, but Joseph was tired and begged to be excused.
There would be another chance to quiz his father. In the meantime, nothing could quench his elation over his astounding good fortune. This is what he had always wanted, though he’d never dreamed he’d reach such heights so soon. And to think he had done it without a college degree!
Well, he thought wryly, as he retired to his bed, having a father in the right place had helped. But he was determined to prove his own worth, his personal merit beyond his father’s influence.
21
Touching a Dream
News of York’s impending departure was hailed as blessed good fortune by all but Carolina. Watching her mother and father chatter on in rambling delight, Carolina saw her chances for furthering her education slipping right through her fingers. A sort of coup de grace to her dreams.
“You’re awfully quiet, Carolina,” her father said, putting an arm around her shoulder. “Didn’t you like the book I brought you? A few more trips to town and you will be able to start your own library.”
“It’s perfect, Papa,” she said, trying her best to sound enthusiastic. In truth she was excited about the book. Her father had finally managed to locate a work devoted to the railroad: A Practical Treatise on Rail-Roads by Nicholas Wood. It was the 1832 edition of a British work published a few years earlier, with an added special section on American railroads.
Yet she couldn’t keep from thinking about York’s promise to help educate her. How could she explain to her father that she had hoped he would have taken longer than this to procure employment? She knew it was selfish to be unhappy for her brother when he was obviously elated with his sudden accomplishment.
She tried to smile and enter into the family discussion over York’s good fortune. “York will no doubt have President Jackson’s full attention when he shares his concerns over Mr. Clay’s American System.”
Joseph smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “No doubt.”
“Well, I for one am beside myself with joy,” Margaret joined in. “When Mr. Adams told me of your expulsion from college, I couldn’t help but wonder what was to become of you. It seems once again, God has controlled the situation from the start. My friends will be positively green with envy. Even the ones who despise General Jackson.”
“Especially those, Mrs. Adams,” Joseph interjected. “They would be even more desirous of an inside ear to the President’s office.”
“Well,” York said with a boyish grin, “now I feel completely justified in putting a fist to old Richard Bedford’s nose. Without such an inspiring act, I’d still be listening to them sing the praises of Henry Clay.”
Joseph narrowed his eyes a bit. “It wouldn’t be wise to consider settling further arguments in the same manner. Mr. Jackson is given to explosive shows of temper and in the past has had to back up his words with actions. I pray you will be a temperate man, son.”
Carolina listened to this exchange with little interest. Her mind was mulling over her losses. She idly fingered the pleats of her plum print muslin gown, wondering how she could compensate her plans. There were always her books, and Father seemed more than happy to purchase new volumes for her whenever she requested them. Perhaps she could teach herself Latin. What if she were to get hold of a primer used in the local boy’s school? She knew for a fact they had rote classes in Latin and Greek.
“And now for something that will be of particular interest to you, Carolina, as well as the rest of the family.”
“What?” Carolina asked distractedly.
Joseph paused when Hannah appeared in the doorway. “Bedtime, Georgia, Penny.”
“But, Papa, you were going to tell us some news,” Georgia protested.
With an indulgent nod, Joseph dismissed Hannah. “I’ll send them along directly, Hannah. Make their beds ready.”
“Yessuh,” Hannah replied and closed the door.
“Well, tell us, Papa,” Georgia insisted.
Carolina felt as anxious as her younger sibling, but her mind was also racing with thoughts of York’s announcement and its implications for her. Somehow this day had turned out to be most unusual.
“The news is this,” Joseph began. “We’re to have a houseguest.”
“Who?” Virginia asked, suddenly taking her eyes from the needlework in her lap.
Joseph smiled broadly at her interest. He looked to Margaret, whose puzzled expression matched Georgia’s and Penny’s. Carolina couldn’t imagine it being of any interest to her. Guests were not that unusual at Oakbridge. Perhaps one of her aunts would come for a visit. That could be entertaining. She’d not seen her cousins in some years.
“Well, do tell us, Mr. Adams,” Margaret said anxiously.
Joseph nodded. “Our houseguest will be none other than James Baldwin.”
“James!” Virginia exclaimed, then tried to recompose her voice. “Whyever would he be coming here? Isn’t he still recovering from his accident?”
“Exactly so,” Joseph answered. “That’s partially why I invited him to stay on at Oakbridge. I have hired him to do a job for me, and it seemed best to keep him from having to travel back and forth to Washington City.”
“A job, Mr. Adams? What job?” Margaret suddenly questioned.
“Yes, Father,” Virginia chimed in. “What job?”
Even Georgia and Penny echoed the words, while York obviously seemed to know of his father’s plans. Only Carolina remained silent. In her mind she was remembering her silly behavior on the night of James’ party. Now, she thought, I’ll have to live with James Baldwin’s superior attitude and, no doubt, his teasing. Perhaps it would only be for a few days.
Joseph took a seat on the settee beside his wife, obviously enjoying prolonging his news and tickling everyone’s curiosity. “I’ve hired James Baldwin to tutor Carolina and further her education.”
“What!” Margaret, Virginia, and Carolina exclaimed in unison.
Laughing at the unfeminine outburst, Joseph leaned back and casually draped an arm around Margaret’s shoulders. “For some time, it has been brought to my attention that Carolina wished to expand her mind with an unconventional manner of education. She desires to learn of the stars and the universe, the whys and wherefores of machines and such things, and of the many other mysteries of life.”
“I cannot abide such an unladylike endeavor. What will our friends say, Mr. Adams?” Margaret had actually paled. Carolina’s soaring hope began to deflate.
“Mrs. Adams, there comes a time when a person should do not what he feels will be deemed acceptable in the eyes of man
, but in the eyes of God.” Joseph spoke with firm conviction.
“Are you telling me that God told you to do this?” Margaret asked indignantly.
Carolina stared at her father and mother’s exchange with open mouth. She noted that Virginia looked horror-struck.
“It’s not that God called down to me from on high, but rather after much prayer and searching for the right answer, James Baldwin practically fell into my lap. I approached him on the subject, considered the possible benefits to all members of this family,” he said, turning to wink at Virginia, “then asked him for an answer.”
“And he said yes?” Margaret asked with astonishment. “He, a college-educated man, agreed to tutor our daughter in masculine subjects of study?”
“I believe, Mrs. Adams, he too could see the possibilities in living at Oakbridge.”
Carolina could care less about those other so-called possibilities. She knew full well her father was implying the benefits that might bring Virginia and James closer to matrimonial bliss, but she didn’t let it concern her in the least. Her father had hired a tutor to teach her! Then she stopped her excited thoughts. That tutor was Jimmy Baldwin, the same tormenting soul who’d given her such grief as a child and with whom she had a less than becoming reintroduction at the party. He’d seemed far from inclined to believe she was in need of furthering her education on that night. Perhaps this was a sham on his part. Perhaps he only planned to gain residency at Oakbridge in order to spend his days in Virginia’s company.
“But it isn’t proper,” Margaret said sternly. “A young woman of Carolina’s age and maturity can certainly not be left alone for long periods of time with a young bachelor.”
“I could chaperon their sessions,” Virginia suddenly offered.