1862 (6 page)

No. the Royal Navy would acquit itself quite well, Palmerston concluded.

The problem, as Palmerston saw it, was with the wretched condition of the British army. On paper it seemed formidable, but that was misleading. There were more than two hundred thousand men in the army, but far too many were scattered across the world in small garrisons where their presence was needed to protect Imperial interests. Thus, there were few reserves to draw on.

Worse, many regiments were at less than full strength. Britain depended on volunteers to fill her army’s ranks, and the last war, the Crimean War, had been an unpopular one. It had shown the horrors of war and the inadequacies of the British military medical system, which left thousands of British men to die of disease and neglect.

So, while there were many who supported the war, they did not favor it to the extent that they were willing to enlist and risk their lives. There had been an initial burst of enlistments, but that had died down quickly. Anger towards the Union did not extend to reliving the horrors of the Crimea.

“Canada is our Achilles’ heel,” Palmerston mused. “We must reinforce Canada. The Americans have tried twice in the last two wars to take it, and they will surely do so again. It is the only part of the empire they can reach, and it is a part of our empire that is most important to us. In the long run. it might even be more important than India. The last time the Americans tried, in the War of 1812, they attempted it with only a couple of thousand men and almost succeeded. Now they can send thirty or forty thousand against it.”

Lord Russell nodded. “What do we have there at the present?”

“Five regiments of British regulars plus one regiment of Canadian regulars. Barely a corporal’s guard. Should the Union get it into their head to invade, there would be little to stop them. I have, however, taken some steps. On receipt of the information regarding the
Trent,
I sent a message to Canada to call out the militia and prepare for invasion. Between the regulars and the militia, there might be fifty thousand men to defend all of Ontario and Quebec, with damned little left to protect the rest. We must not lose Canada!’’

It was unnecessary for him to add that the citizens of Canada, both English and those of French heritage, had been close to rebelling against Mother England. They were tired of a lack of representation in London, and negotiations were ongoing to give them semi-independent status. Palmerston feared losing Canada as Britain had lost the American colonies, and for the same reasons.

Russell was surprised. “Are you having second thoughts, Prime Minister?”

“No, but I admit I am concerned about time and distance. I have ordered several squadrons of warships to American waters both to open the Southern ports and to protect our small squadron in the Caribbean. We cannot have the Caribbean squadron overwhelmed and the United States given a victory on a platter. I have also ordered a number of Scottish regiments under General Sir Colin Campbell to report to Canada. It galls me that it will take two months to get them organized and supplied, find proper shipping, form up a convoy, and then get them to Canada. By that time, Union forces could be marching through the streets of Ottawa.”

“Do you really think that will happen?”

Palmerston chuckled. “No, I do not. I expect that Mr. Lincoln and his government will be paralyzed and indecisive, thus letting the window of opportunity close. By the way, General Campbell will report to the overall commander, Lord Cardigan.”

Russell winced. “Is that wise?”

Cardigan had been a controversial figure in the Crimean War and was held at least partly to blame for the failure of the Light Brigade’s attack on Russian positions. He was unpopular with his fellow officers, querulous, stubborn, and argumentative.

“At the moment, he is the best choice available. As in previous conflicts with the United States, several general officers have declined to participate. We will control Cardigan, which brings up another point. We need the Atlantic cable.”

Two attempts had been made to connect North America with Europe by means of a telegraph cable. The first had failed utterly, but the second attempt had been a partial success. Signals had been transmitted back and forth for several weeks until they became weak, distorted, and finally ceased.

“It now takes ten days for a message to cross the ocean in a fast ship,” Palmerston said. “Presuming, of course, that a fast ship is available and that neither bad weather nor mechanical problems develop. That is intolerable. We can communicate with virtually every major city by telegraph except those in the Americas. The good ship
Agamemnon
was our half of the cable-laying enterprise, and I have directed her to seek out and repair the damage. She is at sea as we speak.”

“Excellent,” said Russell. “Although not having swift communications with Washington served us well in the past weeks. Think of what might have occurred had Ambassador Adams been able to contact Lincoln with the news of our taking of the
St. Lawrence.
Lincoln might have called it a quid pro quo and pushed harder for a peace that we might have had to accept. God knows Adams did.”

Ambassador Adams had virtually gotten on his knees in front of Palmerston to make the case that, since each nation had lost a ship, honor had been satisfied. This viewpoint had been iterated in Parliament by Palmerston’s opponents and by opposition newspapers. The attack by the
Gorgon
on the smaller American ship had managed to dampen some people’s enthusiasm for the war, although others thought it was a grand start to an ultimate victory.

“You are correct, of course,” Palmerston said, “but now we need communications. Along with the declaration of war, I have sent Ambassador Lyons in Washington notification that he is to proceed to Richmond and be our representative there.”

Russell arched an eyebrow at the terminology. “But not ambassador?”

To call Lyons an ambassador would mean that Great Britain had officially recognized the existence of the Confederacy as a sovereign nation. This was what the Confederacy desperately wanted. However, after almost a year into its existence, no major nation had officially recognized it.

“We are not quite ready to recognize the Confederacy as a sovereign state. I have had several notes from our beloved Queen Victoria, who, despite her anguish over Prince Albert’s most recent death, has managed to make her views known on the issue. Although she dislikes the Union for its arrogance, rudeness, and crass commercialism, she considers a formal alliance between ourselves and a nation that condones slavery to be most repugnant. She said she would do all in her considerable powers to stop such an alliance and I am afraid she would succeed. The queen may only reign and not rule, but she is beloved and has enormous moral influence. No, there shall be no recognition and no alliance at this time.”

“So what are you planning?” Russell asked. He was confident that Palmerston had something planned. Palmerston always planned.

“Historically, Great Britain has preferred to fight on the oceans while other nations did the bulk of the fighting on the land. We are a seafaring people, not a land power. Let others fight land battles. The armies of the Confederacy fill the bill. They will fight on the land while we sweep the oceans.”

“But we will not be allies?”

“Associates,” Palmerston amended. “The fact that we have a common enemy does not necessarily require that we be allies any more than that relatives also be friends. We will be associates in name and allies in fact. I have sent a message on to Richmond for Lord Lyons in which this is outlined. It also contains stipulations regarding the future of slavery as it may impact on any formal treaty and any specific future aid that we might give the Confederacy.”

Russell thought the whole idea to be an excellent one. Still, he saw several potential problems. For one thing, the Confederacy had been victorious in its battles with the larger and potentially stronger Union, proving that the Union armies were inept and poorly led. But how long would that last? If the larger Union forces found leaders, then the smaller Confederate army might start to bleed away.

And then there was the question of the British people’s support for a war that supported slavery and did not threaten national security. How long would that support last?

And finally, there was the question of the enthusiasm of Lord Richard Lyons. Ambassador Lyons was a shy, retiring, and almost scholarly bachelor who abhorred violence and seemed to be quite fond of the United States. How effective would he be as the representative of Her Majesty to the enemies of the United States? Russell sincerely hoped that Lord Palmerston knew what he was doing.

Abraham Lincoln came at night with John Hay. The only others with him were the carriage driver and another man, a bodyguard.

The first thing that impressed Nathan about Lincoln was his height. He was even taller than General Scott, who towered over most people. Between the two men, Nathan felt positively diminutive. At least Hay was shorter than he and seemed to enjoy Nathan’s brief discomfiture.

Where Scott was enormously bulky, Lincoln was as lanky and lean as the pictures the nation had seen. Like Scott, he truly was a living caricature of himself. What was surprising was Lincoln’s face and his hands. His deeply lined face was that of a man a decade older than a man not yet fifty-three years of age. Although his sad eyes were rimmed with wrinkles, his mouth curled in a friendly smile.

Lincoln’s hands were large and his fingers extremely long. His hands looked almost delicate, and it was difficult to relate them to the fact that Lincoln had been a wrestler and a farm worker in his youth. The hands were those of an artist or a pianist.

“Let me guess,” Lincoln said, speaking first to General Scott, “you have returned to Washington because you are concerned about the direction the country is taking and that there might be war with Great Britain.”

“Indeed, sir, although I have no doubts about war with England. It will happen.”

Lincoln accepted coffee from a very confused and nervous Bridget Conlin, Scott’s housekeeper. She curtsied and left abruptly.

“I hold out every hope that Ambassador Adams will see to it that cooler heads prevail. I have also heard it from Ambassador Lyons that England does not want war.”

“But Palmerston does,” Scott said tersely. “I’ve studied his speeches and his writings, and I’ve spoken to those who know him. He sees this as an opportunity to advance British causes while hampering ours. We will have war.”

Lincoln blinked. The blunt statement had surprised him. “Let us presume that you are correct. What do you propose?”

“I wish to counsel you. I love this country and do not wish to see her dismembered. Remember, everything I said about the duration of the war and what would be necessary to win it is coming true. What had been disparaged as an Anaconda Plan is now reality.”

“Yes, it is,” Lincoln admitted. “But such counsel as you would give would be military in nature, would it not? Shouldn’t it be directed towards General McClellan?”

“Sir, General McClellan listens to no one. I thought it impossible, but in McClellan we have a gentleman whose ego is even greater than mine.”

Lincoln smiled. “What is even more remarkable is that it is contained in such a small body. Yes, I agree with you. McClellan gives advice; he does not ask for it.”

Nathan looked towards Hay, who nodded. There had been rumors that McClellan had personally snubbed Lincoln, even refused to see his commander in chief when he’d arrived at McClellan’s headquarters. Lincoln had tolerated the aberration in hopes that his conceited commanding general would win the war. If that were done, then rudeness was forgivable.

“McClellan has created a fine army,” Lincoln said.

“Yes he has, Mr. President, but has he used it? McClellan is a man of vast intellect, yet, in my opinion, he is afraid to risk what he has. I understand that he believes the rebel forces to be much larger than his, which is most unlikely. Yet he uses it as an excuse, and will continue to use it as a reason for his inertia. I wonder what excuses he will have for inaction when the British jump in?”

Lincoln stood. The brief meeting was coming to an end. “Yet he is the general we have and the general we must support. I am not ready to take your counsel, General, and I may never be, although I do not deny that it could happen.’7

Scott nodded and rose slowly. “This is about what I expected at this time. Sadly, McClellan must fail for our nation to succeed. I will not be leaving Washington. I will remain here with Mr. Hunter for however long is necessary. Should you change your mind, I believe Mr. Hunter would be an effective intermediary.”

Lincoln understood. Through Nathan and John Hay he could receive advice without ever having to admit it. “I truly appreciate what you are saying. However, I hope our future is not as grim as you feel it might be,” Lincoln said. “Be that as it may, I am pleased at one thing.”

“And that is, sir?”

Lincoln smiled engagingly. “That you are not senile, sir. Those rumors appear to be great exaggerations.”

At that moment, Sergeant Fromm opened the door to the study and John Nicolai, Lincoln’s senior secretary, burst in. “Mr. President,” Nicolai gasped. “Ambassador Lyons wishes to see you at the White House. Dispatches have just arrived. It is war with England.”

Lincoln sagged as if struck by a blow. He gave them a stricken look, wheeled, and virtually ran out to his carriage.

The White House meeting was held in a room adjacent to President Lincoln’s second-floor office. Hastily called, Secretary of State William Seward, Secretary of War Simon Cameron, Secretary of the Navy Gideon Welles, and the commanding general, Major General George McClellan, were the only attendees except, of course, President Lincoln and his young secretary, John Hay. Lincoln took his seat at the head of the table and Hay sat behind him against the wall. It was his job to take notes for Lincoln to review at a later time should he so wish.

Even had the circumstances been pleasant, it would not have been a congenial group. Secretary of State Seward was a man who wished to be president and had nearly become one. He felt that Lincoln had snatched the 1860 Republican nomination from him, and that he was far more qualified to run the nation than a man he thought of as a bumpkin and who he tried to overawe and dominate. Seward was often heavy-handed in his dealings with European nations, and had appeared to favor war with Britain as a means of settling disputes. He now appeared shaken by the reality of what had occurred.