President Daniel Webster
“Welcome to the White House, Mister Webster, Mister Fillmore. Please make yourselves at home; it will be your home in fact before many more days pass.” The murmur of laughter that met the President’s jest was just loud enough to be polite, but the smiles were all genuine. None present held any ill-wishes for President Dallas save perhaps his own Vice-President. There was a rumble of chairs as the participants followed the President to the conference table and allowed liveried servants to assist them to their seats.
“We are gathered upon a sad and solemn occasion,” Dallas began. “The Army has lost a fine senior officer and the nation is bereft of a devoted son. But the death of General Taylor may not be the only tragedy we witness this winter. In Texas, bandits and rebels have incited the wrath of the government of Mexico and the situation trembles upon the sword-point of war. General Taylor, as our former commander of the troops upon the Texas border, would I believe understand that we must devote some time of mourning lest harm come to his former soldiers, and to the citizens who rely upon them for their safety.”
His gaze moved from face to face as he spoke: Secretary of State James Buchanan, placid and genial as always, sat at the President’s left hand. Seated on the right was the wasted, viperish visage of Vice-President James K Polk. At the foot of the table was the glowering mien of newly-elected President Daniel Webster, ‘Black Daniel’ in his formal blue coat and buff vest. At Webster’s right hand sat Millard Fillmore, the plump and cheerful New Yorker who would be the new Vice-President. As Webster had not yet named a Secretary of State the seat at his left was empty. In the center of the table was the extraordinarily tall and broad-framed Commanding General of the Army, Major General Winfield Scott. Across from Scott sat his adjutant and between the two were maps and ledgers.
“Through the Secretary of State, the administration has been in correspondence with President Santa Anna of Mexico and President Kenneth Anderson of Texas. The information conveyed has been… chilling. Mister Buchanan, if you would be so kind as to share this intelligence with our guests?”
“Thank you, Mister President; I should be honored.” If Buchanan was disappointed to find Webster the next President instead of himself, no trace of that emotion appeared on his face or in his voice. Buchanan had risen fast and far on ability; he could afford to wait while Dallas and Webster had their turns. “
President Santa Anna demands financial compensation and the assistance of the United States in subduing the rebels and brigands operating from Texan soil.” Polk snorted loudly. “President Anderson entreats us to make no move which might incite either his citizens or the regiments of Mexico.
President Santa Anna has only recently proclaimed himself; his control of Mexico, and of his army, is tenuous at best.”
“We must go in and clean out the whole rotten mess!” Polk snapped.
“And for what purpose?” Webster inquired. “That we might erect upon the bones of Mexico a half-dozen new slave states and throw the balance of the Union awry?”
“That we might extend the American flag over the soil and peoples we are destined to rule! Never shall we have peace there save the peace due a conqueror!” Polk attempted to roar but his voice was thready and weak.
“Gentlemen!” The President rapped his Masonic ring on the table-top. Polk glowered but was coughing too hard to continue speaking. “Mister Buchanan?”
“The late conference attained no lasting goal despite the good offices of Sir Richard Pakenham and Her Majesty’s government. I do not believe Santa Anna could deliver anything he might promise, though he may promise everything. And President Anderson seems to be doing nothing save trusting to the benevolence of the Mexican Army.”
“Mister President, if General Taylor was in command of our forces on the Sabine River, may I inquire as to which officer now holds that post?” Heads nodded approvingly at Fillmore’s question.
Dallas nodded at General Scott, who boomed, “Major William Worth is in acting command, sir, with a brevet promotion to brigadier general. He is a fine man and an outstanding officer. I beg leave to read to the assembly the communication received at my headquarters from that officer only this morning.”
“’From the General Commanding the Army of Observation at Fort Taylor on the Sabine River in Louisiana, to the Commanding General of the Army…” Scott paused to skim over some lines. “Sir: I have the most solemn duty to communicate to you the intelligence brought this hour by courier from Austin City courtesy of His Excellency the President of Texas. Numerous reports from reputable sources contend that Mexican troops have crossed into Texas as far as the town of Victoria. The value of property seized, burned and destroyed is said to be very high. Numerous residents are reported to have been placed under arrest and tried by Mexican military officers. Texan
and American citizens are claimed injured and killed. President Anderson has requested this army to honor the treaty of alliance between our nations and move forward my base of operations onto Texan soil… I have not, as of this letter, done so.’ There is more, gentlemen, but the remainder is not perhaps as relevant. My clerk has prepared copies.”
“General Scott!” Polk’s rasp had a feverish intensity. “You must go at once to Texas and place yourself at the head of the Army. Lose not a day, but march instantly on Texas! Texas must be defended!”
“Sir, that will mean war! Mexico has never relinquished its claim to the coastal region, including Victoria!”
“And what of it, Mister Webster? Are we not at war already? Are we to suffer these outrageous provocations in silence? Are we to accept that Mexican territory begins and ends wherever Santa Anna says it does? And what will he claim tomorrow? The remainder of Texas? Louisiana? Sir, the citizens will rise and overthrow the government that attempts to restrain them from the defense of Texas!”
Dallas rapped his ring again on the tabletop. “Sir! Your outburst is unseemly. Mister Webster, will you agree with me that General Scott must repair post-haste to Louisiana, to assume command of that Army and to assure its being placed upon perfect readiness?”
“Yes!” Polk snapped. “A man may go as fast as a message, and to more effect!”
Webster coldly ignored the interruption. “Mister President, I would rather the necessity did not exist but under the circumstances… I agree that General Scott is the man we need. Let him play again the Great Pacificator, as he did when the Aroostook conflict threatened to bring war between ourselves and England. I ask – I have no right to do more – I
ask only that he not lead the Army into Texas unless, in his judgment, the settlement of the crisis so requires.”
“What!” Polk’s rasp rose to a screech. “How shall these atrocities be answered, with words or with deeds!”
Dallas threw up his hands. “You see, Mister Webster, what I have labored under these past four years! I long for the day I shall hear no more of Texas! General Scott, I enjoin you to write your own orders – no other arrangement would suit our needs so fitly. We place ourselves in your hands. Go as soon as you may to Texas… Mister Webster, I ask if you will add your name to my request to the governors for volunteers to fill out the regular regiments? Whether we reap war or peace, more troops would perhaps be useful.”
Webster nodded, as slow and ponderous as a rockfall. “Aye, if your request is for no more than that, I will sign it gladly. And I join you, also, in confiding my absolute trust in General Scott. Sir, is there more you require from us?”
Scott inclined his head. “Money, supplies, fresh drafts of troops, bullocks – all of the equipage of the command will be needed, of course. I warmly welcome the offer of men to bring the regiments up to strength. It may be well also to ask the governors to start the militia to drilling, so long as competent officers are assigned. I shall work for peace, of course! But we must prepare for war.”