OregonWriters
Emerson Hough: '54-40 Or Fight'
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| ""Fifty Four Forty or Fight!" exclaimed Polk' |
Emerson Hough was a plenipotentiary who negotiated the treaty for Oregon signed the Treaty of Guadeloupe Hidalgo with Mexico after the Mexican War, a war he - like Abraham Lincoln - detested as "a war which grew out of the slavery tenets" (click here). The pompous President Polk had promised war with Britain if it did not yield British Columbia (the 54th Parallel). Hough wrote down his experiences in a book which reads like the great spy thrillers of our day:
Mr. Clay was there, smiling, though I fear none too happy. Mr. Edward Everett, as it chanced, was with us at that time. We had Sam Houston of Texas, who would not, until he appeared upon the floor, relinquish the striped blanket which distinguished him, though a splendid figure of a man he appeared when -he paced forth in evening dress, a part of which was
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| John Calhoun, Senator, vice president under both J.Q. Adams and Jackson, senior ideologue for slavers click here. | Edward Everett, orator, Secretary of State whose 2 hour speech at Gettysburg preceded Lincoln's (click here) | Sam Houston, Tennessee adventurer and 'filibuster' who joined in seizing a province of Mexico called Texas. |
| Henry Clay. Another slaver (click here), Lincoln delivered the eulogy at his death (click here). |  |
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a
waistcoat embroidered in such fancy as might; have delighted the eye of his
erstwhile Indian wife had she been there to see it. Here and there, scattered
about the floor, there might have been seen many of the public figures of
America at that time, men from North and South and East and West,, and from many
other nations beside our own.
Under
Mrs. Polk’s social administration, we did not waltz, but our ball began with a
stately march, really a grand procession, in its way distinctly interesting,
in scarlet and gold and blue and silks, and all the flowered circumstance of
brocades and laces of our ladies. And after our march we had our own polite
Virginia reel, merry as any dance, yet stately -too.
I
was late in arriving that night7 for it must be remembered that this
was but my second day in town, and I had had small chance to take my chief’s
advice, and to make myself presentable for an occasion such as this. 1 was
fresh from my tailor, .and very new-made when I entered the room. I came just in
time to see what 11’ was glad to see; that is to say, the keeping of John
Calhoun’s promise to Helena von Ritz.
It
was not to be denied that there had been talk regarding this lady, and that
Calhoun knew it, though not from me. Much of it was idle talk, based largely
upon her mysterious life. Beyond that, a woman beautiful as she has many enemies
among her sex. There were dark glances for her that night, I do not deny, before
Mr. Calhoun changed them. For, however John Calhoun was rated by his enemies,
the worst of these knew well his austerely spotless private life, and his
scrupulous concern, for decorum.
Beautiful
she surely was. Her ball gown was of. light golden stuff, and there was a coral
wreath upon her hair, and her dancing slippers were of coral hue. There was no
more striking figure upon the floor than she. jewels blazed at her throat and
caught here and there the filmy folds of her gown. She was radiant, beautiful,
apparently happy. She came mysteriously enough; but I knew that Mr. Calhoun’s
carriage had been sent for her. I learned also that he had waited for her
arrival.
As
I first saw Helena von Ritz, there stood by her side Doctor Samuel Ward, his
square aqd stocky figure not undignified in his dancing dress, the stiff 71 gray
mane of his hair waggling after its custom as he spoke emphatically over
something with her. A gruff man, Doctor Ward, but under his gray mane there was
a clear brain, and in his broad breast there beat a large and kindly heart.
Even
as I began to edge my way towards these two, I saw Mr. Calhoun himself approach,
tall, gray and thin.
He
was very pale that night; and I knew well enough what effort it cost him to
attend any of these
functions.
Yet he bowed with the grace of a younger —man and offered the baroness an arm.
Then, me-thinks, all Washington gasped a bit. Not all Washington knew what had
gone forward between these two. Not all Washington knew what that couple neant
‘as they marched in the grand procession that tight—what they meant for
America. Of all those who saw, I alone understood.
So they
danced; he with the dignity of his years, he with the grace which was the
perfection of dancing, the perfection of courtesy and of dignity also, s
though she knew and valued to the full what was offered to her now by John
Calhoun. Grave, sweet and sad Helena von Ritz seemed to me that night. she was
wholly unconscious of those who looked and whispered. Her face was pale and rapt
as that of some devotee.
Mr. Polk
himself stood apart, and plainly enough saw this little matter go forward. When
Mr. Calhoun approached with the Baroness von Ritz upon his arm, Mr. Polk was too
much politician to hesitate or to inquire. He knew that it was safe to follow
where John Calhoun led! These two conversed for a. few moments. Thus, I fancy,
Helena von Ritz had her first and last acquaintance with one of our politicians
to whom fate gave far more than his deserts. It was the fortune of Mr. Polk to
gain for this country Texas, California and Oregon—not one of them by desert
of his own! My heart has often been bitter when I have recalled that little
scene. Politics so unscrupulous can not always have a John Calhoun, a Helena von
Ritz, to correct, guard and guide.
After this
the card of Helena von Ritz might well enough indeed been full had she cared
further to dance. She excused herself gracefully, saying that after the honor
which had been done her she could not ask more. Still, Washington buzzed;
somewhat of Europe as well. That might have been called the triumph of Helena
von Ritz. She felt it not. But I could see that she gloried in some other thing.
I
approached her as soon as possible. “I am about to go,” she said. “Say
good-by to me, now, here!
We
shall not meet again. Say good-by to me, now, quickly! My father and I are going
to leave. The treaty for Oregon is prepared. Now I am done. Yes. Tell me
good-by.”
“I
will not say it,” said I. “I can not.”
She
smiled at me. Others might see her lips, her smile. I saw what was in her eyes.
~‘We must not be selfish,” said she. “Come, I must go.”
“Do
not go,” I insisted. “Wait.”
She
caught my meaning. “Surely,” she said, “I will stay a little longer for
that one thing. Yes, I wish to see her again, Miss Elisabeth Churchill. I bated
her. I wish that I might love her now, do you know? Would—would she let
me—if she knew?”
“They
say that love is not possible between women,” said I. “For my own part; I
wish with you.”
She
interrupted with a light tap of her fan upon my arm. “Look, is not that
she?”
I
turned. A little circle of people were bowing before Mr. Polk, who held a sort
of levee at one side of the ball. I saw the tall young girl who at the moment
swept a graceful curtsey to the president. My heart sprang to my mouth. Yes, it
was Elisabeth! Ah, yes, there flamed up on the altar of my heart the one fire,
lit long ago for her. So we came now to meet, silently, with small show, in such
way as to thrill none but our two selves. She, too, had served, and that
largely. And my constant altar fire had done its part a also, strangely, in all
tins long coil of large events. Love——au, true love wins and rules. It makes
our maps. It makes our world.
Among
all these distinguished men, these beautiful ‘women, she had her own tribute
of admiration. I felt rather than saw that she was in some pale, filmy green,
some crepe of China, with skirts and sleeves looped up with pearls. In her hair
were green leaves, simple and sweet and cool. To me she seemed graver, sweeter,
than when I last had seen her. I say, my heart came up into my throat. All I
could think was that I wanted to take her into my arms. All I did was to stand
and stare.
My
companion was more expert in social maneuvers. She waited until the crowd had
somewhat thinned about the young lady and her escort. I saw now with certain
qualms that this latter was none other than my whilom friend Jack Dandridge. For
a wonder, he was most it unduly sober, and he made, as I have said, no had
figure in his finery, he was very merry and just a trifle loud of speech, but,
being very intimate in Mr. Polk’s household, he was warmly welcomed by that gentleman and by all
a round him.
‘She
is beautiful I” I heard the lady at my arm whisper.
‘‘Is
she beautiful to you ?‘‘ I asked.
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