The Dominion's Dilemma: The United States of British America (4 page)

THE COLONIAL COMPACT OF 1776
    Washington’s stunning victory at Boston in early 1776 astounded the British populace and led to the immediate fall of Lord North’s government. The Earl of Chatham, William Pitt the Elder, who had led the call for reconciliation with the Colonies, was the obvious choice to reoccupy #10 Downing Street. King George III, not yet fully in the throes of the mental illnesses that would eventually destroy him, reluctantly sent for Pitt. The Earl had been in regular contact with Benjamin Franklin, who until the previous year had been in London as the agent (later generations would have described him as the “lobbyist”) for Massachusetts, Pennsylvania and a number of other rebellious American colonies. Franklin had finally thrown up his hands in disgust at the autocratic attitude of the North government and returned to North America, where he had taken his seat in the Continental Congress.
   Pitt had immediately rushed Edmund Burke, the outspoken orator and colonial proponent, to Philadelphia by fastest naval transportation, with a stunning secret compromise proposal for Franklin. The ship docked on June 3, 1776.
    Burke and Franklin hammered out, over a period of several days’ intensive negotiation, the document that became known as the Colonial Compact. Burke had arrived in Philadelphia as the Continental Congress struggled with the truly unthinkable concept of separation from the Mother Country and---always lurking in the background---the question of slavery. With a collective sigh of relief, the majority of the delegates---John and Samuel Adams of Massachusetts not among them---grasped eagerly at the Compact, when Franklin presented it in secret session, as a way out of the dilemma. They quickly agreed to the armistice offered by the Pitt government. By the fall of ’76, Washington’s army, which had marched south to New York in anticipation of a British invasion, had been demobilized.
      In March 1777, a constitutional convention called by the Congress had met in Philadelphia. Under Washington’s guidance---Franklin had returned to London with Burke as intermediary to Pitt’s government---a tentative constitution for the new “United States of British America” slowly evolved. Washington himself, along with the principal authors, Thomas Jefferson and James Madison of Virginia and the youthful prodigy from New York, Alexander Hamilton, sailed for London in the spring of ’78 to present the document for ratification by Parliament and the signature of the King.
   It was the proposition that the British American states would have direct representation in Parliament that was to be the chief obstacle to ratification, of course. The diehard Tories in both Houses could not conceive of ‘colonials’ on their benches. But the logic in Pitt’s argument that the Empire had very nearly lost its crown jewel over ‘taxation without representation’ in the end won the day. The “colonials” would be permitted one delegate from each ‘state’ to the House of Commons. The new USBA would have limited self-government, in that London would continue to set foreign policy and have oversight of the elected USBA government.
    The Crown, in turn, would accept the principle that only native born British Americans could serve as candidates for the Governor-Generalship and the various state governorships. The USBA would maintain an organized defense force in view of the threat from then-Spanish Louisiana and the increasingly difficult Indians, as well as a small naval force to help patrol the coasts. The appropriate military ministries in London would oversee both forces. Tariffs and other taxes on various products would fund the Dominion---for that was the newly-coined term for the USBA’s status in the Empire---and state governments. An initial plebiscite for the Governor-Generalship and the two houses of the first USBA Congress was scheduled for the fall of 1780. The King would then officially approve the plebiscite’s winner as G-G for a term of four years, with the potential for succeeding terms. (The principle of the King’s final veto power over the Governorship was a key element in the final agreement designed by Burke and Franklin.) 
   Franklin returned home once again to a tumultuous welcome and near-unanimous approval for the Governor-Generalship. Washington was the overwhelming choice for Vice Governor-General and was in fact actually responsible for much of the evolution of the new Dominion government during a period later affectionately labeled the ‘Era of Reconciliation.’
    It was during the Washington Administration that began in 1789 that the ‘factions’ in Dominion political life---agrarian/weak central government versus manufacturing/strong central government---began to evolve into the two-party political system that continued through the plebiscite of 1832, which the Democratic candidate, Andrew Jackson, won convincingly over his Dominion-Republican rival, Henry Clay, garnering some 765,000 of the approximately 1,325,000 votes cast. Two minor candidates had no effect on the outcome. It was of course the State Legislatures that alone had the power to elect the Governor-General. Their refusal to choose Andrew Jackson even after he had convincingly won the plebiscite in 1824, placing Quincy Adams in the Residency, had created much of the bitterness that still dominated political life in the USBA.

CHAPTER THREE

Georgetown, D.C.
December 20, 1832:
  Tom Wilder glanced at his pocket watch and shook his head. Twelve noon. He had spent the better parts of three mornings shifting through all the correspondence between The Residency and London dating back six months. Mention of the plebiscite, when discussed at all, was prima forma: the Dominion’s plans for organizing and securing the vote in the various states; dates of the voting in each state, plans for the official tallying and subsequent announcement. The on-going controversy over the increase in tariffs---the issue which had caused the bitter “nullification” split between Jackson and his first Vice G-G, John C. Calhoun of South Carolina---dominated the correspondence, along with the usual traffic concerning Indians and the sullen French Canadians in Quebec. The fight over the Bank of the USBA, which bored Wilder as much it bored the great majority of the Dominion’s citizens, seemed of major interest to London, however.

   
From the perspective of this correspondence, London’s interest in our affairs is more financial than political,
Wilder thought as he wearily rubbed his eyes.
As long as we contribute our fair share to the Empire’s profitability, it doesn’t seem like Buckingham Palace, Parliament or Downing Street really cares who runs what over here. Maybe the Treasury Department has come up with a new tariff proposal. Looks like our masters across the water would be very interested in that…but enough to strip down a frigate for a mid-Winter run? I doubt it.
    Well, there’s nothing more here. I’d better get over to the War Department and finish checking those files.  Though I’m fairly certain the Royal Army is more interested in the winding down of the Black Hawk War out in Illinois.

     
Wilder was still envious that his friend and classmate, Joe Johnston, had seen action in that campaign with the 4
^th
Artillery. He, meanwhile, had languished on the Arkansas frontier until rescued
by General Scott upon the General’s return from leading the successful campaign.
    As Wilder walked down The Residency steps, he saw a familiar figure emerge through the front gates and begin walking toward the building. David Harper was a career Interior Department official, a born bureaucrat, but nevertheless a hit with the ladies that Wilder ruefully conceded he himself was not. Tom had seen Harps in action in both polite society and in some of the District’s less reputable back alleys. Slight but handsome, with wavy brown hair and a quick wit, Harper charmed all kinds of women effortlessly.

    
I wish
some of that charm would rub off on me, especially when Lucille Latoure is around…as she will be at the G-G’s reception two evenings from now
.
     Harper saw Wilder coming and grinned. “Well, Thomas, thought I’d find you here when you weren’t across the street.” The Interior and War departments were housed in the same makeshift ‘temporary’ Georgetown building. “I’m dropping some documents off here with the G-G’s secretary. Won’t take a minute. How about joining me at the Golden Eagle?” The Eagle was a prominent gathering place for the younger Executive Department officials. It had recently been purchased by a former barmaid, Joanne Casgrave, who was rumored to have funded the purchase through profits from services of a more private sort. Services now apparently readily available on an upper floor…
   Wilder hesitated only briefly. “All right, Harps. I was on my way back to the Department, but I could use a bowl of soup and a beer. Didn’t take time for breakfast this morning.”
   Ten minutes later they were comfortably seated at a back table near the Inn’s roaring fire.  “God, that feels good,” Harper said. “This damn Georgetown weather goes right through you.” The Lieutenant nodded his agreement as a barmaid arrived to take their orders.
    Winter in Georgetown was unlike the exhilarating cold of Wilder’s Brooklyn childhood, or even the more bitter bite of West Point’s under-heated barracks and classrooms. Here, the damp chill invaded the chest, sinuses and bones in November and took up residence till spring arrived in early March. Two months later, of course, the blast-furnace heat and oppressive humidity made any normal---Northern---person long for January. Harper, being from Northern New Jersey, had much the same opinion of the capital’s climate.
    “Tom, your eyes are blood-shot. Have you been lighting the social candle at both ends without me? Or does ‘Old Hickory’ have you burning the midnight oil at The Residency?”
   Wilder smiled wearily. “Neither, Dave.  General Scott has me looking for some elusive information which may or may not exist. I was on my way over to continue the search at the War Department when we bumped into each other. But tell me, how do the plebiscite results affect your Department?”
     “Hell, hardly at all, Lieutenant. Both Jackson and Clay were in favor of ‘internal improvements’ to the Dominion, so it really didn’t matter who won as far as the day-to-day workings of the Department were concerned. Clay might have put one of his own people into the top position, but my job was pretty secure, either way. Since Mr. Van Buren was Jackson’s running mate, we were certain to get a new boss, whoever won. Rumor has it old Livingston will keep the job, or maybe Louis McLane will move in.  I doubt it will make much difference. They’re both close allies of Matty Van. How about you?”
     “Same with me. And I doubt General Scott was too concerned. Henry Clay wasn’t about to dismiss him. Let me ask you, though: Does your Department have much communication with London? Or do they leave you pretty much alone?”
      Harper nearly choked on his newly-arrived chicken vegetable soup. “Much communication? Hardly. We hear from the American Office every so often, but it’s all routine. We send in reports regularly; whether they’re even read over there is anyone’s guess. Mine is that there aren’t enough people in that so-called ‘Office’ to study half of what we send them. Then again, the more they leave us alone, the better it is for us.” Harper paused and looked thoughtful. “Did have a rather unusual communication last spring, but it didn’t come from the American Office. The Chancellor of the Exchequer, if you can believe it.”
     “Exchequer?” asked Wilder, the surprise apparent in his voice. “That’s a new one on me. Don’t think I’ve ever seen anything at either The Residency or the Department from them. I imagine the Treasury Department does correspond regularly, though. What did they want?”
     “A breakdown on slavery, of all things. How many slave states, how many free? Percentage of slaves in the overall population of each state, that sort of information.”
   “How did you respond?”
    “Oh, we used the census. Spent several days copying it all out, but it seemed to satisfy them. Haven’t heard a word since.”
    An idea was forming in Wilder’s brain, but he pressed ahead as if still baffled by the response. “The census? I didn’t realize the census results had been finalized, yet alone published.”
     “Approved last May. That Tennessee protégé of the G-G’s, Polk, pushed it through the House. They’ve ordered up 10,000 copies, though that sluggardly printing house the State Department uses hasn’t gotten around to publishing them all yet. The census is pretty impressive, or alarming, depending on your point of view. Did you know there are just over 2,000,000 slaves, mostly in the 10 states and two territories south of the Mason-Dixon Line? They constitute less than 15% of the USBA’s overall population, but anywhere from 20% to more than 50% in the Southern states. No wonder Nat Turner had the planters in such an uproar.”
     On August 21, 1831 a slave named Nat Turner had instigated an uprising of some 30 fellow-slaves in Southampton County,Va. In a single night of indiscriminate slaughter, some 70 white men, women and children, mostly small farming families, died before Turner and his band fled into the forests. The Virginia state government had hunted the rebels down ruthlessly; Turner himself was caught alive and subsequently hanged on November 11, 1831. The aftershocks were still being felt throughout the South: in Richmond the House of Burgesses in midyear had come stunningly close---seven votes---to abolishing the institution altogether. (Incongruously, it had then reversed itself and tightened the terms of bondage outright.)
     “Well, Harps, this is all very interesting, but if I don’t soon come up with the information General Scott wants, I may be back in Arkansas with the Dragoons. I better get back to the Department.” He drained his beer. “Coming?”
   Harper, too, rose from the table. “Hate going back out in this weather, but I suppose I’m due back, too. By the way, tell me about the guest list for the G-G’s reception. I’ve copped an invitation.”

                                            _______________

    As expected, Lieutenant Wilder found nothing in his review of recent War Department correspondence with their London superiors that would explain the
Irresistible’s
mysterious departure. Harper’s offhand remark about Exchequer’s unexpected request was the only ‘odd or different’ information Wilder had been able to unearth in more than three full days of searching.
   Now he was seated outside the General’s office, awaiting Scott’s arrival. Although Lewis Cass of Michigan, as Secretary of War, was Scott’s nominal boss, there was little doubt who really ran the Department. Cass was a politician, one of the G-G’s closest advisors. It was the morning of December 21st and Georgetown was blanketed by the first real snow of the season as the General’s carriage pulled up to the Department. ‘Old Fuss and Feathers’ wore a long blue and tan military great cloak as he stomped down the hall towards his office. “Come in Lieutenant. What have you got for me this God-awful morning?”
    Well, thought Wilder, here goes.
He better like this, or I could be headed south by
New Year’s
. “General, my review of The Residency’s correspondence with London failed to reveal anything ‘odd or different.’ Likewise, this Department’s correspondence with both the Royal Army and the Admiralty failed to produce anything significant. Nor did a review of recent requests both here and at The Residency from the Liaison Office turn up anything unusual.
     “A personnel review also determined that no Royal officer or key Liaison staff has recently been ordered back to London.  And Baltimore reports that
Irresistible
sailed immediately upon receiving a dispatch sent directly from the Liaison Office.” 
    The Lieutenant could feel the drill starting up as the stone-cold blue eyes stared directly at him.
    “I did discover one thread that winds through almost all our communication with London, however, Sir.”
    “Yes Lieutenant?”
    “Finances, Sir. In one way or another, virtually all the communication between London and Georgetown centers on money: whether its taxes, tariffs or fighting the Indians, finance is the key. How much revenue will be generated; how much revenue will be spent. That’s the constant.”
     The fingers began drumming their tattoo on the desktop. “That’s all, Lieutenant? You think the
Irresistible
stripped down and upped anchor to let London know who Jackson’s new Treasury Secretary will be?”
     In spite of himself, Wilder smiled at the sarcasm. “Not exactly, Sir. You see, I did come across one piece of information that seems out-of-the-ordinary. But it came from the Interior Department.  Last May, the Chancellor of the Exchequer’s Office in London requested a breakdown on slavery in the USBA. Total number of slaves; their percentage of the overall population; the states where slavery is a major economic factor; that sort of thing.”
    The drill dug deeper. “Go on, Lieutenant. How does this fit into your stunning discovery of the Empire’s abiding economic interest in this Dominion? And, more importantly, how does it fit into the
Irresistible
mystery?”
    “Sir, am I correct in thinking that any and all taxation legislation set before the British Parliament by the Prime Minister initially is drafted by the Chancellor of the Exchequer? In the manner that the Treasury Department here has initiated taxation proposals in this and previous Administrations?”
    The drill began to slow down. “That’s pretty much correct, Lieutenant. So what’s your conclusion?”
     Wilder took a deep breath. “Sir, I believe the Crown is about to seek a tax on all slaves held in this Dominion. There’s no other reason for the Exchequer’s interest in the slave numbers. And I believe that proposed tax will be significant. So significant that the Crown believes it will have a major impact on the USBA during the next Administration.”
      A slight smile played at the corners of Scott’s mouth. “And why might that be, Lieutenant?”
    “Because, Sir, while both---all four, including Wirt and Floyd---of the plebiscite candidates own slaves, the winner is a planter. Who may be considered unlikely to support or enforce a significant tax on his own property, now that he has been declared the electorate’s choice for another term. Mr. Clay, on the other hand, does own a handful of slaves, but is also a leader in the movement to gradually free all the slaves and send them to Liberia. Governor Floyd wants a quick end to slavery, while old Wirt is, well, old…if I may be so bold, Sir.”
    “No Lieutenant, Andrew Jackson is not likely to support or gather a tax on himself and his fellow planters even if it comes with a companion tax on Northern manufactories.” Scott paused, drumming his fingers while looking toward the ceiling.