Thomas Jefferson was. He talked to the President by the hour about his magnificent stud, and his plantation at Hawkeye, a kind of principality — he represented it. He urged the President to pay him a visit during the recess, and see his stock farm.
“The President’s table is well enough,” he used to say, to the loafers who gathered about him at Willard’s, “well enough for a man on a salary, but God bless my soul, I should like him to see a little old-fashioned hospitality — open house, you know. A person seeing me at home might think I paid no attention to what was in the house, just let things flow in and out. He’d be mistaken. What I look to is quality, sir. The President has variety enough, but the quality! Vegetables of course you can’t expect here. I’m very particular about mine. Take celery, now — there’s only one spot in this country where celery will grow. But I am surprised about the wines. I should think they were manufactured in the New York Custom House. I must send the President some from my cellar. I was really mortified the other day at dinner to see Blacque Bey leave his standing in the glasses.”
When the Colonel first came to Washington he had thoughts of taking the mission to Constantinople, in order to be on the spot to look after the dissemination of his Eye Water, but as that invention; was not yet quite ready, the project shrank a little in the presence of vaster schemes. Besides he felt that he could do the country more good by remaining at home. He was one of the Southerners who were constantly quoted as heartily “accepting the situation.”
“I’m whipped,” he used to say with a jolly laugh, “the government was too many for me; I’m cleaned out, done for, except my plantation and private mansion. We played for a big thing, and lost it, and I don’t whine, for one. I go for putting the old flag on all the vacant lots. I said to the President, says I, ‘Grant, why don’t you take Santo Domingo, annex the whole thing, and settle the bill afterwards. That’s my way. I’d take the job to manage Congress. The South would come into it. You’ve got to conciliate the South, consolidate the two debts, pay ‘em off in greenbacks, and go ahead. That’s my notion. Boutwell’s got the right notion about the value of paper, but he lacks courage. I should like to run the treasury department about six months. I’d make things plenty, and business look up.’“
The Colonel had access to the departments. He knew all the senators and representatives, and especially, the lobby. He was consequently a great favorite in Newspaper Row, and was often lounging in the offices there, dropping bits of private, official information, which were immediately, caught up and telegraphed all over the country. But it used to surprise even the Colonel when he read it, it was embellished to that degree that he hardly recognized it, and the hint was not lost on him. He began to exaggerate his heretofore simple conversation to suit the newspaper demand.
People used to wonder in the winters of 187-and 187-, where the “Specials” got that remarkable information with which they every morning surprised the country, revealing the most secret intentions of the President and his cabinet, the private thoughts of political leaders, the hidden meaning of every movement. This information was furnished by Col. Sellers.
When he was asked, afterwards, about the stolen copy of the Alabama Treaty which got into the “New York Tribune,” he only looked mysterious, and said that neither he nor Senator Dilworthy knew anything about it. But those whom he was in the habit of meeting occasionally felt almost certain that he did know.
It must not be supposed that the Colonel in his general patriotic labors neglected his own affairs. The Columbus River Navigation Scheme absorbed only a part of his time, so he was enabled to throw quite a strong reserve force of energy into the Tennessee Land plan, a vast enterprise commensurate with his abilities, and in the prosecution of which he was greatly aided by Mr. Henry Brierly, who was buzzing about the capitol and the hotels day and night, and making capital for it in some mysterious way.
“We must create a public opinion,” said Senator Dilworthy. “My only interest in it is a public one, and if the country wants the institution, Congress will have to yield.”
It may have been after a conversation between the Colonel and Senator Dilworthy that the following special despatch was sent to a New York newspaper:
“We understand that a philanthropic plan is on foot in relation to the colored race that will, if successful, revolutionize the whole character of southern industry. An experimental institution is in contemplation in Tennessee which will do for that state what the Industrial School at Zurich did for Switzerland. We learn that approaches have been made to the heirs of the late Hon. Silas Hawkins of Missouri, in reference to a lease of a portion of their valuable property in East Tennessee. Senator Dilworthy, it is understood, is inflexibly opposed to any arrangement that will not give the government absolute control. Private interests must give way to the public good. It is to be hoped that Col. Sellers, who represents the heirs, will be led to see the matter in this light.”
When Washington Hawkins read this despatch, he went to the Colonel in some anxiety. He was for a lease, he didn’t want to surrender anything. What did he think the government would offer? Two millions?
“May be three, may be four,” said the Colonel, “it’s worth more than the bank of England.”
“If they will not lease,” said Washington, “let ‘em make it two millions for an undivided half. I’m not going to throw it away, not the whole of it.”
Harry told the Colonel that they must drive the thing through, he couldn’t be dallying round Washington when Spring opened. Phil wanted him, Phil had a great thing on hand up in Pennsylvania.
“What is that?” inquired the Colonel, always ready to interest himself in anything large.
“A mountain of coal; that’s all. He’s going to run a tunnel into it in the Spring.”
“Does he want any capital?”, asked the Colonel, in the tone of a man who is given to calculating carefully before he makes an investment.
“No. Old man Bolton’s behind him. He has capital, but I judged that he wanted my experience in starting.”
“If he wants me, tell him I’ll come, after Congress adjourns. I should like to give him a little lift. He lacks enterprise — now, about that Columbus River. He doesn’t see his chances. But he’s a good fellow, and you can tell him that Sellers won’t go back on him.”
“By the way,” asked Harry, “who is that rather handsome party that’s hanging ‘round Laura? I see him with her everywhere, at the Capitol, in the horse cars, and he comes to Dilworthy’s. If he weren’t lame, I should think he was going to run off with her.”
“Oh, that’s nothing. Laura knows her business. He has a cotton claim. Used to be at Hawkeye during the war.
“Selby’s his name, was a Colonel. Got a wife and family. Very respectable people, the Selby’s.”
“Well, that’s all right,” said Harry, “if it’s business. But if a woman looked at me as I’ve seen her at Selby, I should understand it. And it’s talked about, I can tell you.”
Jealousy had no doubt sharpened this young gentleman’s observation. Laura could not have treated him with more lofty condescension if she had been the Queen of Sheba, on a royal visit to the great republic. And he resented it, and was “huffy” when he was with her, and ran her errands, and brought her gossip, and bragged of his intimacy with the lovely creature among the fellows at Newspaper Row.
Laura’s life was rushing on now in the full stream of intrigue and fashionable dissipation. She was conspicuous at the balls of the fastest set,
