Whitman in Washington. His Conference with President Tyler and Secretary Webster and the Secretary of War. Visits New York and the American Board, Boston. His Return to the Frontier and to Oregon.
The exact date of Whitman's arrival at the national capital can be determined only from letters, but was probably on March 3, 1843, the day before the close of Congress, when, as usual, there was hurry and confusion. But it matters little for our purposes, for we have seen that the "Oregon boundary question had been up," and as usual had been ignored, and only the disputed lines upon a few thousand acres up in Maine had been adjudicated, while the Oregon boundary line was left in its old place, "up against the Rocky Mountains," as Senator Benton expressed it, "the natural, convenient, and everlasting boundary of the United States!" So Whitman had only to meet the President and his officials and individual members to press the claims of Oregon.
Washington in that day was not the beautiful city now seen, and its manners and customs were wholly different. It was before the day of enterprising newspaper work. McCullough and Halstead had not then introduced the modern methods of "the interview" in daily journals, or we should not now have to depend upon meager details and verbal messages to tell of this thrilling episode in American history. But it requires no imagination to believe that this heroic pioneer, dressed in the garb of the plains, attracted full attention. No man better knew the opinions of statesmen regarding Oregon, and we may well believe he felt, modest man as he was, appalled at the magnitude of the work before him. But with such a man we can believe there was no loitering for preparation. Fortunately the Secretary of War was an old school fellow of Whitman's and arranged for a speedy conference with the President and his Secretary of State, Webster, the latter the well-known active enemy of Oregon. Nothing is more discouraging to a writer than just such an occasion when giants meet in combat, and to be unable to report the words and acts of the actors, except from scrappy notes and verbal reports. Whitman never left any written record of that great discussion, for he never wrote a note in his life for the purpose of exalting himself in public estimation.
For the story of the great ride we are wholly dependent upon General Lovejoy's notes and utterances. And upon the return journey to Oregon, and during the long rides, the General says, "Whitman told me over and over all that was said and done," in that notable conference at Washington. Along the same lines we have the testimony of a score of his associates and co-workers in Oregon, to whom he was in duty bound to make full report, for they were parties in interest. So from such sources we glean our facts, and in their true spirit and meaning can rest upon them with much confidence, even if not so satisfactory, as if written down at the time.
The characters are before us, they had met in consultation—Marcus Whitman, the man with frosted hands and feet, dressed in furs and buckskin, who had so loved his country that he had braved the winter storms, and over unknown ways, without pay or hoped-for honors or rewards, had come four thousand five hundred miles to plead for Oregon to be placed under the flag. There was the President, the nation's chief; John Tyler, dignified, clear-eyed, honest, earnest, and as he proved, sympathetic and anxious to do his whole duty to the nation; and there was Daniel Webster, known the nation over as "the Great Orator," and "the brainy, far-seeing statesman," who was in this case all out of sympathy with Oregon. He had repeatedly marked its "worthlessness"; he was in full accord with those who had declared "it would endanger the republic," "was nearer Asia than the United States," and, we may add, that it was fully stated, he was at that very time actively negotiating the trade of Oregon for the Newfoundland fishing banks.
Such, tersely, is a vague pen-picture of three men who met and made history in the executive chamber, noonday, the 5th of March, 1843! The picture is worthy of the skilled brush of some master artist, instead of the poor words of the writer. It matters not if their work failed to be conclusive, it was but forging a link in the golden chain of the nation's grandeur, which had it been severed, no imagination can measure the calamity that would have resulted.
WHITMAN CROSSING GRAND RIVER
It is the pride of the whole loyal people that the humblest citizen with something important to say may have audience with the nation's chief official. President John Tyler was no exception, and when notified of Whitman's wishes by Secretary of War Porter, he arranged to give him audience without delay. The President was, every day and hour, importuned to meet men, who came to beg for office or honors or emoluments of some kind, but as he learned from Secretary Porter, this man from Oregon was not of that kind he was curiously anxious to meet him. As we have stated, we make no effort to report speeches. It is well known that "the Silent Man" when aroused was strong and eloquent. Upon that long journey, with the weight and importance of his mission pressing upon him, my readers can well believe that Whitman's words were strong and true and impressive. As he told it to his friends, he dwelt upon the marvelous fertility of the soil, and the great crops of grain and fruits his fields and gardens and orchards had produced for six years; how stock ranged the pastures, fat the year round, without protection or feed from barns. He told of the magnificent forests, not equaled in other portions of the world, of the undoubted mineral riches in mountains, of the pure water in springs, flowing rivers navigable for the greatest ships, and of the inviting, balmy, healthful climate. Who could describe better than Whitman the grandeur of the Oregon country, destined, as he hoped, "for millions of American people!" It was then that the keen Webster made the remark, but "Doctor, how can you ever make a wagon-road for American immigration to Oregon?" and received the prompt reply, "There, Mr. Secretary, you have been deceived and misinformed. There is a wagon-road to Oregon now, and I made it and took a wagon over it six years ago, and it is there to-day!" That is the triumph of the old wagon turned into a cart with its front wheels lashed to its sides. The patient, good little wife, in the years before, was sorrowing over the labors of her husband in his hard work, and mourned through many pages of her diary, as we have seen, over the folly of hauling along "the old wagon." She was not permitted to look into the future and hear how the Indian boys' "Old Click-Click-Clackety-Clackety" would strike dumb the nation's greatest orator. Nor is it at all likely that Whitman himself ever dreamed of such results. He simply obeyed a silent voice within, as was his rule of life, and old "Click," amid trials and perils never half told, rolled on, and made history.