N OVEMBER 19, 1824

Eleven days later, at the state dinner hosted by President Monroe at Williamson's Hotel and attended by practically every member of Congress, the Marquis sat beside Sam Houston.

That caused pained looks among some of the congressmen present, but not many. Word was already spreading that John Quincy Adams would throw his support to Jackson in the event the election was thrown into the House. Which, with the first election results beginning to come in, now seemed certain to happen. State dinners of this sort were such enormous affairs that there was plenty of time and space for quiet dickering. Most of the congressmen were too busy with their whispered consultations to pay much attention to the formalities of the affair.

Peter Porter was one of the exceptions. He'd gotten an invitation through the offices of the Speaker, so he was there also. But since he was not a congressman, he paid little attention to the small maneuvers taking place at the multitudes of tables in the huge dining room. Instead, he spent the time carefully studying the men at the central table.

James Monroe. Sam Houston. The Marquis de Lafayette.

Porter had had enough military experience to understand-he was pretty sure, anyway-what he was seeing. Strategists at work, not tacticians. He tried, at one point in the evening, to get Clay's attention. But the Speaker was preoccupied with his negotiations with several of the congressmen from North Carolina.

"Tomorrow, Peter. I couldn't possibly find the time to speak to you tonight."

Toward the end of the evening, the Marquis rose and offered three toasts.

The first, in solemn remembrance of the president's daughter.

The second, in honor of his heroic son-in-law, who had so valiantly defended the Capitol of the United States from enemy attack-and then repeated the deed, a few months later, at New Orleans.

The third Smiling broadly, the Marquis prefaced his toast by announcing that Sam Houston was moving to Arkansas and taking his young son with him. They would depart two days hence.

So, another toast: "To the New World, so clearly blessed by the Almighty! To the New World! Which has produced yet another great republic on its soil!"

Andrew Jackson was the first to rise to the toast. Had he not been a bit too portly, John Quincy Adams might have beaten him to it.

Outside the hotel, later, Clay brushed Porter off again. "Not now, Peter, sorry. Yes, I know it's a bit awkward. A minor setback. But I think we're on the verge of taking all of North Carolina from Jackson. South Carolina, Calhoun can promise us for sure."

Off he went. Porter was left alone in the night, watching the crowd spilling out of Williamson's Hotel.

Setback.

"Jesus Christ," Porter muttered to no one at all. "Who cares about that? This thing is careening out of control."

1824: TheArkansasWar

Загрузка...