302 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
days, nor had Jass gone to visit him. One night after dinner, when Sally
had withdrawn to leave them to talk, James asked if they had quarreled.
Jass was silent for a moment, and it was clear some serious problem was
vexing him.
"Wesley's gone to Texas," he said.
James was surprised, but no more than that, for the moment. "I thought
he was going to Princeton."
Jass shook his head. "He's taken the money his father gave him for
college and he's gone to Texas. He's sure there's going to be a war with
the Mexicans, and he wants to be part of it. "
James laughed lightly, but it was double-edged. For just a moment, he
dreamed that Jass might have gone off on such an adventure, but as
immediately dismissed the thought. Jass's proper place was here, and his
son had behaved properly. But, oh-
, , Well, he's right. There will be a war." James wasn't quite sure what
to say. Some battle for the future status of Texas seemed inevitable. Men
from all over the country were headed there, to resist the colonial
bondage of Mexico. But Wesley seemed very young.
"He's very young," James said.
Jass was more concerned with something else.
"The thing is--he blurted it out-"I am to tell his father.
James laughed again. He began to see the problem.
"And he'll know I've known for two weeks, and he'll be furious I haven't
told him before, and there'll be the dickens of a row."
James was amused, but adopted a serious manner, knowing that was what
Jass wanted. "I assume you gave your word to Wesley?"
Jass nodded, but it was no great comfort.
"Then you must keep your word. We all have to face rows at some time in
our lives," he said. "And I'll go with you."
He went with Jass, as moral support, but let Jass do all the talking.
James saw it as a small rite of passage for his son, for Wesley's father,
he knew, was a stem old martinet, who
MERGING 303
would not be pleased by his son's disobedience.
To the surprise of both of them, Wesley's father took the news well.
"The boy's a troublemaker, destined for a scoundrel, I fear," he said
calmly. "If he wants to go and kill a few Indians, sow his oats, get it
out of his system, it could be the making of him."
Jass was surprised. "I think it's Mexicans he's planning to kill, sir,"
he said.
Wesley's father looked at him as if he were a fool. "Mexicans? They are
not our enemy in Texas."
"But, sir, it is a Mexican colony," Jass insisted.
"And we will take it from them," Wesley's father said. "We will take it
or buy it or annex it, depending on the whim of the president. It will
be a slave state, as it is now and properly should be, and help diminish
the undue influence of those wretched New Englanders."
It made sense, except for one thing. The thesis had to be completed: "But
then what will we do with all those Indians?"
James stared at the man, hating him, hating his clarity of vision, for
as soon as it was said, James saw an awful result.
"What will the native Comanche and Apache feel about all those Creek and
Choctaw and Chickasaw that we have sent there?" Wesley's father chuckled.
"There will be bloody war, and we will have to sort it out, and the
Indian problem will be resolved in this land finally, and for all time."
James could not bear to believe it, and knew it was true. He had known
it all along, and had denied it to himself for so long. The Indian
question was not resolved by the removal. We would take Texas, and then
California, and the wars against the Indians would go on, until the
remaining few would stand with their backs to the great ocean, and then
where would they go? It was an old nightmare for James.
Wesley's father chuckled again. "Even those damned Cherokee, for they
will go west and will meet their destruction."
The Cherokee in Georgia were resisting every considerable effort to
persuade them to go west. But they would go, James knew, if not by
treaty, then by force. Andrew would make them go. Apart from the
Cherokee, only some Seminole in
304 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
Florida were violently resisting removal, under their chief, Osceola.
Some new thought had disturbed Wesley's father, but it had nothing to do
with white dominion. "Whatever shall I tell his mother?" he wondered aloud.
"She dotes on him so."
Jass was volubly relieved that the interview had gone so well, but James
was silent as they rode home, possessed by dark foreboding. Why did the
Indians haunt him so? Would this nightmare never end?
It got worse in October when James received an unwelcome visitor. Dr. David
Evans was a missionary to the Indians who had traveled west with some of the
Creek and was now returning to Georgia to plead for an end to the removal.
He was trying to enlist whatever political support he could find, and had
letters of introduction to James from Henry Clay.
"You are an old friend of the president, I believe." The minister wasted no
time. "I beg you, sir, to do everything in your power to persuade him to
end this merciless extinction of a people."
He knows about the letters, James thought immediately. "Andrew will not be
president for much longer."
"He is president now." Dr. Evans was relentless. "And architect of this
most foul thing."
James wanted to scream at him to go away, but he listened politely. The
good minister's description of the journey west was horrifying.
"They have no real understanding of what is happening to them, and no will
to make it succeed. They are uprooted from their natural home, and are on
a journey that has no point or meaning to them, for where they arrive will
mean nothing to them. Since they are not afraid of death, and because they
see no real point in living, they die. There is not sufficient food to
nourish them, or blankets to keep them warm. What food is provided is
usually rotten, and their hunting grounds are lost to them. And so they
die. There is cholera amongst them, and because they do not have hope, they
have no will to fight it, and so they die."
He told his tale just as it was, without elaboration, and the factual
simplicity of it made it more shocking to James.
MERGING 305
If it is summer they perish from heat; if it is winter they die from
cold. Of the four hundred that I journeyed with, one hundred and twenty
reached the great river.
"Only pitiful provision has been made for them, and so they spend the
money they were given for their comfort on arrival to survive the journey
there. Some of their Army escort rob them. Many merchants along the way
deceive them. All of us destroy them.
"A few federal officers who travel with them are often so distressed by
what they see that they dig deep into their own pockets to try to buy
some few creature comforts, but it is a task that would defeat Hercules.
"And when they reach the so-called promised land, what is there for them
there? They stand like Ruth on alien soil and know not which way to turn.
They cannot hunt, for they do not know what to hunt. Or where. They
cannot read this land for they have no voices of the old ones to guide
them. The whites who are there do not want them. The Mexicans do not want
them. The Indians who are there do not want them. And so they are
destroyed in this New Jerusalem."
"Not all of them, surely," James said.
"Not all of them, no," the minister replied. "But too many of them. And
after the coming war with Mexico-for there will be a war-what will happen
to them then? Will the socalled Republic of Texas tolerate these savages?
I think not. They can hardly tolerate the Indians already there."
"It is over. There is nothing I can do," James said. "Nothing we can do."
"No, for them it is over," the minister agreed. "But I am come to save
those who have not gone. The Cherokee, in Georgia.
He understood that it was probably a waste of time to try to persuade the
government of Georgia to alter its policy toward the Cherokee, but did
not understand it was a waste of time to try to persuade the federal
government-Andrew-to change its mind. He begged for James's assistance.
"There is a story told," he said, "of rose trees that the first Indians
planted along the way to guide those who came after them. And as more
came, they took cuttings from those bushes and planted them farther
along, until the way from here to Texas was a path of roses."
306 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
He stopped for a moment, for his emotions were getting the better of him.
"It is only a story, a sweet, romantic one, told to ease our guilt. There
is no path of roses. Only a trail of heartrending tears. "
Alone at night, James wept. He knew that young Doublehead was dead, for he
had seen that lack of hope in the chief's eyes that evening in his study,
and without hope, what point was there in life? He prayed, fervently, that
Doublehead's son was alive, but then wondered why? If his future was death,
what point was there in life?
"I will do what I can," he had told the minister. "But it is not much. "
It could not be much, he knew. Even if he published the letters, they would
make almost no difference to the plight of the Indians; the removal would
continue, the destruction of them would go on. Only one person could ease
the pain.
Colonel Elliot was in Lexington making arrangements with Tom Flintoff to
travel to England and finalize the purchase of the stallion Glencoe. There
was no real need for James to go to Kentucky, but he wanted to be part of
the excitement. It also put him closer to Washington.
He didn't tell anyone, even Sally, of his intention; he was not even sure
what he intended. He spent several pleasant days discussing horses in
Kentucky, and was guest of honor at several parties given by horseracing
men, for James was one of their most prominent number. Cap'n Jack attended
him, and Ephraim had driven them there in a gig, since Sally was worried he
might catch a chill if he rode horseback. When the day of departure came,
Ephraim naturally headed for the Knoxville road.
"No," said James. "We are going to Washington."
Cap'n Jack looked at him in surprise, but James would not explain. He had
written a letter to Sally the previous night, telling of his plan to
resolve, finally, his differences with Andrew. He wondered why he hadn't
told her before, because when he left The Forks he had taken the
correspondence with Andrew from its safe place and put the letters in his
pocket.
They journeyed in silence. James did not know what he was
MERGING 307
going to do. He knew he was going to do something.
Cap'n Jack asked no questions. The Massa's business was the Massa's
business, and he guessed, correctly, that James wanted to see Andrew. For
himself, he was delighted that he might have the opportunity to see
Alfred again.
At dinners in the hostelries where they spent the nights, the talk of
Andrew's achievements as president diminished as they got closer to
Washington. Ordinary folk, the working people, revered him, but the
Virginians of James's class disparaged the hick frontiersman and his
arrogant ways. James put it down to simple jealousy. Virginians were used
to being part of the ruling elite, and were Andrew's avowed enemies.
Still, it lightened his heart. Andrew became less and less of a legend,
more and more of a man, and it was the man James had to persuade, not the
giant.
He checked into a hotel in Alexandria, having been warned that
accommodation in the village that was the capital was almost impossible
to obtain, and sent a note to Andrew asking to be received. The reply was
immediate and a generous affirmative.
They traveled by ferry across the river, hired horses on the other side,
and rode through the farmland to the White House. James was fascinated
by the few extravagant buildings that stood among cow paddocks, beacons
to a great future amid a sea of mud.
The president's mansion was impressive enough from the outside, though
smaller than James or Cap'n Jack had imagined, and looked a bit silly
stuck here in this swampy wilderness. The inside was also shabbier than
they had expected, dusty, giving a feeling of not being finished and
lacking any sense of home, although Andrew had lived here for seven
years. Rachel would have made the difference, James knew.
Cap'n Jack was disappointed. There was no sign of Alfred. He guessed,
again correctly, that Alfred would be with his Massa, and was again
disappointed when James, on being ushered upstairs, told him to wait.
Cap'n lack settled on a broken chair that had been badly repaired, and
waited.
Andrew had been ill, and was sitting at a desk in his bedroom, Alfred
never far from his side. There was a small bowl of food
308 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
on the desk, mashed potato and milk, and some rice.
He looked so old, gaunt, and wasted, James thought, but of course he was
old, twenty years James's senior. He seemed to be sleeping, and a tiny
dribble of spittle was running down his chin. The unruly hair was thin and
white now, where once it had been a golden mane. James looked at Alfred,
who shook his Massa lightly, and Andrew woke.
The limpid blue eyes looked around, searching for a target, and settled on
James.
This is it, James thought, the end of everything between us.
This is it, Andrew thought, the end of a small, irrelevant business that
should have been finished years ago.
He greeted James warmly, and they mutually inquired after family, and then
there was silence, and Andrew seemed to drift away somewhere-to a tomb in
Nashville, James suspected
.
Then Andrew rallied. "Well?"
James put his case, and Andrew listened politely, attentively.
Occasionally. Alfred came to him and with a handkerchief wiped the dribble
from his Massa's chin.
When James had finished, Andrew was silent again and stared at the papers
on his desk. When he spoke, he looked helpless.
"What would you have me do?" he said. "The Cherokee are under Georgia law.
I cannot interfere with the workings of a sovereign state."
You are the president, James wanted to shout at him. You have done so much,
you can do anything. They call you king!
"You have in Florida," James insisted.
"That is different. Osceola declared war on us. I had no choice but to
act."
James knew logic would have no effect. "Do not make them go," he said
softly. "Do not send them to their deaths."
I I I cannot make them go or stay, " Andrew said. " It is not for me to
choose. They have elected to stay, and therefore they must abide by Georgia
law. All I can do is offer them a possible alternative."
" It is an alternative that will lead to their destruction!" James tried
hard, tried his best."
" It is the only hope they have." Andrew hardly appeared to have heard him.
MERGING 309
"It is in your power to ensure that the treaties are enforced," James
insisted.
Andrew smiled.
"In the West, on federal land, I can protect them. In Georgia, I cannot.
We are not at war with Georgia. I cannot send in the army," he said. "I
cannot protect them from what they have chosen to be."
"I beg you to end this thing," James said. "You know what must happen to
them if they stay, and what will happen to them if they go. "
Andrew nodded gently, and James thought he saw a tear in the old man's
eye. It is just age, he thought, like the spittle on his chin.
"I do what I can to save them," Andrew said. "And will always do what I
can to protect them, but only what I can, under the law."
James knew he was wasting his time, had always known he would be, but
wanted it over.
"I could publish the letters," he said.
Andrew nodded again.
"Yes, you could. But I don't see the point of it. An old correspondence
about an issue that died long ago, It will change nothing, except to cast
a small slur on my character-"
He laughed and coughed at the same time.
"Which character is already so vilely slandered, in so many ways, by
things so much more vile."
He looked at James, and didn't appear to be so old.
"And cast a very large slur on your character, which is not used to
infamy."
He was changing, before James's eyes. He wasn't slouching anymore, and
the eyes were no longer soft, like the sea, but bright and hard, like
sapphires.
"In a year I will be gone from here, and soon forgotten," he said. "I am
already much too old. But you are still a young man. Why needlessly
besmirch what you have so valiantly achieved?"
A palpable energy began to fill the room.
"Do you have them with you?" Andrew asked.
James nodded. They were in his pocket. He wondered why.
310 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
Why did I bring them with me? Why didn't I leave them at the hotel, or
locked in the box at home?
"Give them to me" was all Andrew said.
James took the letters from his pocket and handed them over without demur.
Perhaps this is what I have wanted all along, he thought. The burden of
responsibility is not mine anymore. I am free, at last, of this terrible
guilt.
And all Andrew had to do was ask. All he had ever had to do was ask.
Andrew didn't even look at the letters, knowing they would all be there. He
put them in a drawer and locked it.
Neither of them spoke for a while, and when Andrew did, it was softly,
sadly, with no trace of anger but an aching sense of loss.
"Have you so misunderstood me all these years?" he said, and James knew it
was not a question.
"Do you think it nourishes me to see my children so piteously downcast? Do
you think I do not weep for them? Do you think I have not fallen on my