1862 (11 page)

Knollys, Lord Richard Lyons, and a couple of others of the ambassador’s staff had recently arrived in Richmond by British steamer after a tedious journey through the northern part of New York State, a crossing near Buffalo, and a subsequent train journey to Ottawa. Lyons had elected to come to Richmond as expeditiously as possible and without waiting for the rest of his official family.

Bunch liked to joke that he was almost literally a man without a country. He had been Her Majesty’s representative to the United States at Charleston, but Charleston was no longer part of the United States. Until the Confederacy was officially recognized and Lord Lyons declared an ambassador instead of a representative, Bunch was a man without official posting or duties. He did, however, continue to be paid, which was a great relief since he, too, was not a wealthy man.

As if money mattered for the moment. Neither Bunch’s nor Knollys’s cash was any good in Richmond, where the English were as popular as any mere mortals could be. Once again Knollys had taken to not wearing his uniform. This time it was not out of fear of being harmed, but out of fear of the overwhelming affections of the Southern people, who foisted food and drink on him whether he wanted it or not.

As a result, the two men had taken to eating their meals in their hotel rooms. It gave them the privacy they needed to discuss sensitive matters.

Bunch raised a glass of port. “Again to your good fortune in escaping from the North.”

The toast was only half in jest. Of all the British officers assigned to observe the American army prior to the war, only Knollys had been permitted to leave, and that was because he had been assigned to the embassy and not to a U.S. military command. Those other unlucky officers were considered prisoners and would either be exchanged or paroled at some time in the future. Knollys was long overdue for promotion to major and to be incarcerated at the beginning of this new war would have been a final and deadly blow to his career.

Knollys counted his lucky stars that someone had forgotten his stint as an observer of McDowell’s army at Bull Run and of General Stone’s at Ball’s Bluff. He considered himself thoroughly knowledgeable regarding the Union army. Now he was pleased that he could use that accumulated knowledge to help the cause of Great Britain.

“Are you enjoying Richmond?” Bunch asked.

“Oh, it’s very interesting,” Knollys answered, and they both laughed. Like Washington, Richmond, Virginia, was a small town that had grown uncontrollably large virtually overnight. Richmond was a town without the external elegances of a capitol building and the monuments that one normally associated with a nation’s capital. He had also noticed that there appeared to be more prostitutes in Richmond than in Washington, although not by a large number.

“I know it’s a depressingly rude city,” said Bunch, “but Richmond’ll get better when the war is won and the Confederate states become dominions of Great Britain again.”

Knollys smiled and chewed his food. As British consul, Bunch had given a number of pro-South speeches in the Charleston area that had been wildly applauded. As a result, he had convinced himself that the Carolinas and Virginia would welcome a return to the Imperial fold. Knollys thought Bunch was fooling himself and had thoroughly misinterpreted the cheers of the Charleston crowds then and the Richmond throngs now.

“If only the South would get rid of slavery,” Bunch sighed, “then all problems would disappear.”

“But slavery isn’t going to disappear, and Ambassador— excuse me, Representative—Lyons has told Mr. Benjamin that there cannot be a formal alliance without it.”

As a matter of protocol, Lord Lyons had met formally with the Confederacy’s secretary of state, Judah P. Benjamin. He would meet Jefferson Davis and others in less formal situations. This punctilio was required by Lord Lyons lest the South assume too much from the contacts. They were brothers in arms but not allies, and British diplomatic behavior would reflect this until ordered otherwise.

“However,” said Knollys, “I have it on good authority that Mr. Benjamin has informed Lord Lyons that it is Jefferson Davis’s intent that slavery be abolished within one year of a treaty of independence between the Union and the Confederacy. Davis, through Benjamin, has informed us that he personally abhors slavery, but that his nation must make a decision regarding slavery freely. When that protocol is signed, then you will see more help given to the South. If it is not,” he shrugged, “then we will commence actions against the North directly, and not break the Union blockade of the South. It would be a curious way to fight a war, but we will do it.”

“And Davis will agree to put in writing that he will abolish slavery within a year of the end of hostilities? Incredible if true,” said Bunch.

“Absolutely,” said Knollys. Normally, he would not have been as close to Lord Lyons as he was, but the fact that the staff was so truncated necessitated it. Although a loyal servant of the crown, Lyons found slavery repugnant and supported any efforts to do away with it. “Apparently, the protocol will be kept secret for the war’s duration since the freedom to keep slavery is something the South is fighting for. Davis will also have to politic hard to get his countrymen to support freeing the slaves.”

“And what do you think of the Southern army?” Bunch asked, changing the subject.

Knollys laughed. “Hard-fighting, well-led, and disreputable. They are also poorly armed. Their uniforms are a hodgepodge of gray and light brown, butternut they call it. Many don’t bother and just wear civilian clothes. A number don’t have shoes, and they are all filthy. But, lord, can they fight.”

“Then the South will win, won’t it?” asked Bunch hopefully.

“For the moment, the South
is
winning, but only because the North is so incompetent. The North has a much larger population from which to draw, and the industrial might to supply them. They say the South also has a more martial tradition; however, that is something that could be overcome as the allegedly less martial Northerners gain military experience.”

Bunch was perplexed by the less-than-overwhelming support for the South’s army. “But the Confederacy has the better generals, doesn’t it?”

“For the moment, yes. But what nation finishes a war with the generals with which it began? Napoleon rose from the chaos of the French Revolution, and Wellington was a nonentity at the beginning of that war with Revolutionary France. No, what I am saying, James, is that the South cannot grant the North time to discover who its leaders ought to be. That would be disastrous for us and the South. The Confederacy, along with us, of course, must win this war in this year of 1862. The longer it drags on the greater the advantage will shift to the North. After all, there are battles and campaigns being fought out towards the west of this continent that will have an impact on the final accounting, and out west the Confederacy is not doing as well as it is in the east.”

Bunch mentioned the likelihood of McClellan’s attacking southward. In a land where newspapers printed anything they wished, and where the Washington and Richmond papers arrived at the other city the next day, there were few secrets between the two enemies. Many felt that there were thousands of spies in each place, but others thought it was simply the incredibly lax security, along with the propensity to gossip, that gave away so many secrets.

“It’s so interesting,” said Knollys. “McClellan is losing the confidence of Lincoln and General Joe Johnston does not have the confidence of Jefferson Davis. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if either or both are replaced. After all, everyone says that Robert E. Lee is the best military mind around, but he doesn’t have a field command. If Johnston hesitates in the slightest, Davis will replace him with Lee.”

Bunch wiped his chin with a napkin. “And where does that leave McClellan? Who might replace him? Certainly none of his subordinates has distinguished himself so far.”

Knollys agreed. But there were other armies and other generals out in Kentucky, Tennessee, Missouri, and Illinois. Large armies were poised at each others throats in lands far away from Washington and Richmond. The war was not totally going the South’s way. The border states were either pacified by the Union or were being fought over. Even Virginia had lost the western portion of herself as a result of McClellan’s early actions.

It occurred to Knollys that the war might be decided far away from the seventy-mile corridor that separated Washington from Richmond. The thought did not make him comfortable. Victory for the Confederacy and Great Britain had to occur quickly for both his career and Great Britain.

Like gray ghosts, the British battle line appeared off Boston, Massachusetts. The sight of the ships bearing down on the city sent panic through the streets. Church bells rang and countless thousands went in either direction. Some chose to immediately flee the city for the safety of the countryside, while others flocked to the waterfront to see what would happen. Even the British, they reasoned, wouldn’t fire on civilian buildings.

They were right. The enemy ships veered off in the direction of the uncompleted shore batteries. As they drew within range, the handful of American guns that had been emplaced fired on the British ships. This foolish gesture was met with a thunderous barrage that pulverized the American works that were mainly made of earth, rather than concrete.

When the American guns had been silenced, the British ships paraded insolently through the harbor, firing steadily and destroying all the shipping within range. Scores of ships of all sizes were struck and burst into flames. Some of the burning vessels ran aground, which caused fires to begin and spread throughout the city itself. Soon the waterfront was ablaze and those who had remained in the city stampeded inland for safety.

On board the flagship, the mighty
Warrior,
Admiral Sir William Parker stood on his ancient legs and watched the fires destroy much of the city that had been such a problem for England in the American Revolution. He had to admit it was satisfying, although somewhat dismaying, as the flames began to burn more and more of the city.

It wasn’t quite what he had had in mind. After ensuring that the British army had safely departed Bangor, he had only planned to make a demonstration of force against Boston. The number of possible targets in the harbor, and the fact that the Americans had fired on him, had changed his mind. He had tweaked Brother Jonathan’s nose and he rather liked it.

Parker was over eighty, but he was one of the few British admirals who would accept a command against the United States and in support of the Southern slave owners. He felt he owed that much to his queen even though he, too, hated the thought of keeping people in bondage. Further, Parker had been a driving force in reforming the training methods of the Royal Navy and was anxious to see them put into effect. A pity, he thought, that there were no American warships in Boston harbor. Either that or they had prudently hidden themselves from the overwhelming might of his fleet.

When there was nothing left in the burning harbor worth destroying, Parker signaled the fleet to retire to the open vastness of the ocean. There would be no more demonstrations against American cities. His next stop was off Norfolk, Virginia, where he would find out whether he was to break the Union blockade off Confederate ports, establish a blockade of Union ports, or commence the destruction of the American seacoast. Whatever his orders directed, Admiral Parker was prepared to do his duty.

   Lord Palmerston felt only relatively pleased by events as he sipped brandy in his office and read the latest dispatches. His partner, Lord Russell, dozed easily in a large chair in the corner. Papers lay loosely on his lap.

The very first cable message from Canada had brought the obvious and welcome news that the cable was fixed and working, and that the reinforcements landed in Maine had successfully crossed into Canada and were resting in Ottawa. Also, the cable was being extended from Canada to a terminus in the Confederacy, probably Norfolk. The cable was maddeningly slow, often requiring several minutes and several tries for the transmission of a single word, but it was vastly superior to waiting days, even weeks, for news of events. The cable’s inherent limitations had forced both London and Canada to be both brief and explicit in their communications.

In his message, Lord Cardigan had informed Palmerston that he would move the bulk of his army to Kingston, a city on the coast of Lake Ontario. Just south of it there was a substantial British garrison entrenched in the St. Catherine- Niagara area across from the American city of Buffalo, New York. Such a force would also protect the Welland Canal, the only means of getting shipping from Lake Ontario through to the other great lakes.

Cardigan felt that any real American move against Canada would come from their base at Sacketts Harbor and across the St. Lawrence River. From there the Americans could move either east towards Ottawa and Montreal, or west towards Toronto. Cardigan felt that he was positioned to counter either event. All this did was to drive home the point that the Canadian border with the United States was enormously lengthy and virtually impossible to defend.

Even with the reinforcements at hand, Great Britain had virtually written off Lakes Michigan, Superior, and Huron as there were only a handful of armed schooners available for service on the lakes. Britannia might rule the waves, but, even with her might, she could not have ships everywhere. The Confederate navy was virtually nonexistent as regards blue-water ships. What vessels the Confederacy possessed were for use in rivers, bays, and other shallow, coastal waters. Even their ironclad, the
Merrimack,
would not venture out into the ocean, presuming, of course that the Confederates actually completed the thing.

It was mortifying that the Canadian population had so far proven largely disinterested in defending themselves. He had to concede that the Canadian militia was small in number, poorly armed, and even more poorly trained, and that this was the result of years of British policy. Canada had been secure for generations, and the widely dispersed and small population had seen no external threats to defend against. The periodic border problems with the United States had never been of much concern to those more than a few miles behind the border. The farmers and merchants in eastern Canada had focused solely on the problems of crops and produce.