[Ill.u.s.tration: "Fifty-four Forty or Fight!" exclaimed Polk. Page 203]

"You are always thinking of the popular imagination, Jim. You have been thinking of that for some time in Tennessee. All that outcry about the whole of Oregon is ill-timed to-day."

"_Fifty-four Forty or Fight_; that sounds well!" exclaimed Polk; "eh?"

"Trippingly on the tongue, yes!" said John Calhoun. "But how would it sound to the tune of cannon fire? How would it look written in the smoke of musketry?"

"It might not come to that," said Polk, shifting in his seat "I was thinking of it only as a rallying cry for the campaign. Dash me--I beg pardon--" he looked around to see if there were any Methodists present--"but I believe I could go into the convention with that war cry behind me and sweep the boards of all opposition!"

"And afterwards?"

"But England may back down," argued Mr. Polk. "A strong showing in the Southwest and Northwest might do wonders for us."

"But what would be behind that strong showing, Mr. Polk?" demanded John Calhoun. "We would win the combat with Mexico, of course, if that iniquitous measure should take the form of war. But not Oregon--we might as well or better fight in Africa than Oregon. It is not yet time. In G.o.d's name, Jim Polk, be careful of what you do! Cease this cry of taking all of Oregon. You will plunge this country not into one war, but two. Wait! Only wait, and we will own all this continent to the Saskatchewan--or even farther north."

"Well," said the other, "have you not said there is a G.o.d of Battles?"

"The Lord G.o.d of Hosts, yes!" half screamed old John Calhoun; "yes, the G.o.d of Battles for _nations_, for _principles_--but _not_ for _parties_!

For the _principle_ of democracy, Jim Polk, yes, yes; but for the Democratic _party_, or the Whig _party_, or for any demagogue who tries to lead either, no, no!"

The florid face of Polk went livid. "Sir," said he, reaching for his hat, "at least I have learned what I came to learn. I know how you will appear on the floor of the convention, Sir, you will divide this party hopelessly. You are a traitor to the Democratic party! I charge it to your face, here and now. I came to ask of you your support, and find you only, talking of principles! Sir, tell me, what have _principles_ to do with _elections_?"

John Calhoun looked at him for one long instant. He looked down then at his own thin, bloodless hands, his wasted limbs. Then he turned slowly and rested his arms on the table, his face resting in his hands. "My G.o.d!" I heard him groan.

To see my chief abused was a thing not in my nature to endure. I forgot myself. I committed an act whose results pursued me for many a year.

"Mr. Polk, sir," said I, rising and facing him, "d.a.m.n you, sir, you are not fit to untie Mr. Calhoun's shoe! I will not see you offer him one word of insult. Quarrel with me if you like! You will gain no votes here now in any case, that is sure!"

Utterly horrified at this, Mr. Polk fumbled with his hat and cane, and, very red in the face, bowed himself out, still mumbling, Mr. Calhoun rising and bowing his adieux.

My chief dropped into his chair again. For a moment he looked at me directly. "Nick," said he at length slowly, "you have divided the Democratic party. You split that party, right then and there."

"Never!" I protested; "but if I did, 'twas ready enough for the division. Let it split, then, or any party like it, if that is what must hold it together! I will not stay in this work, Mr. Calhoun, and hear you vilified. Platforms!"

"Platforms!" echoed my chief. His white hand dropped on the table as he still sat looking at me. "But he will get you some time, Nicholas!" he smiled. "Jim Polk will not forget."

"Let him come at me as he likes!" I fumed.

At last, seeing me so wrought up, Mr. Calhoun rose, and, smiling, shook me heartily by the hand.

"Of course, this had to come one time or another," said he. "The split was in the wood of their proposed platform of bluff and insincerity.

'What do the people say?' asks Jim Polk. 'What do they _think_?' asks John Calhoun. And being now, in G.o.d's providence; chosen to do some thinking for them, I have thought."

He turned to the table and took up a long, folded doc.u.ment, which I saw was done in his cramped hand and with many interlineations. "Copy this out fair for me to-night, Nicholas," said he. "This is our answer to the Aberdeen note. You have already learned its tenor, the time we met Mr.

Pakenham with Mr. Tyler at the White House."

I grinned. "Shall we not take it across direct to Mr. Blair for publication in his _Globe_?"

Mr. Calhoun smiled rather bitterly at this jest. The hostility of Blair to the Tyler administration was a fact rather more than well known.

"'Twill all get into Mr. Polk's newspaper fast enough," commented he at last. "He gets all the news of the Mexican ministry!"

"Ah, you think he cultivates the Dona Lucrezia, rather than adores her!"

"I know it! One-third of Jim Polk may be human, but the other two-thirds is politician. He will flatter that lady into confidences. She is well nigh distracted at best, these days, what with the fickleness of her husband and the yet harder abandonment by her old admirer Pakenham; so Polk will cajole her into disclosures, never fear. In return, when the time comes, he will send an army of occupation into her country! And all the while, on the one side and the other, he will appear to the public as a moral and lofty-minded man."

"On whom neither man nor woman could depend!"

"Neither the one nor the other."

The exasperation of his tone amused me, as did this chance importance of what seemed to me at the time merely a petticoat situation.

"Silk! Mr. Calhoun," I grinned. "Still silk and dimity, my faith! And you!"

He seemed a trifle nettled at this. "I must take men and women and circ.u.mstances as I find them," he rejoined; "and must use such agencies as are left me."

"If we temporarily lack the Baroness von Ritz to add zest to our game,"

I hazarded, "we still have the Dona Lucrezia and her little jealousies."

Calhoun turned quickly upon me with a sharp glance, as though seized by some sudden thought. "By the Lord Harry! boy, you give me an idea. Wait, now, for a moment. Do you go on with your copying there, and excuse me for a time."

An instant later he pa.s.sed from the room, his tall figure bent, his hands clasped behind his back, and his face wrinkled in a frown, as was his wont when occupied with some problem.

CHAPTER XX

THE LADY FROM MEXICO

As soon as women are ours, we are no longer theirs.

--Montaigne.

After a time my chief reentered the office room and bent over me at my table. I put before him the draft of the doc.u.ment which he had given me for clerical care.

"So," he said, "'tis ready--our declaration. I wonder what may come of that little paper!"

"Much will come of it with a strong people back of it. The trouble is only that what Democrat does, Whig condemns. And not even all our party is with Mr. Tyler and yourself in this, Mr. Calhoun. Look, for instance, at Mr. Polk and his plans." To this venture on my part he made no present answer.

"I have no party, that is true," said he at last--"none but you and Sam Ward!" He smiled with one of his rare, illuminating smiles, different from the cold mirth which often marked him.

"At least, Mr. Calhoun, you do not take on your work for the personal glory of it," said I hotly; "and one day the world will know it!"

"'Twill matter very little to me then," said he bitterly. "But come, now, I want more news about your trip to Montreal. What have you done?"

So now, till far towards dawn of the next day, we sat and talked. I put before him full details of my doings across the border. He sat silent, his eye betimes wandering, as though absorbed, again fixed on me, keen and glittering.