“Good. What of the hotel, Mr Heron?”
“If you stay here, ma’am, then it could remain under your hand, but I would suggest that it would not be easy to manage at a distance.”
“Could a purchaser be found?”
“Easily, ma’am. I have received informal enquiries already. Was I publicly to invite closed tenders then I have no doubt a sale could be made at a respectable price.”
“Do so, if you please, Mr Heron. I shall not remain in the west, sir. Indeed, I may well not stay in America… but that does not depend entirely upon me.”
Heron could make an informed guess about who it did depend upon, but a lawyer was not paid to speculate.
“I would wish to maintain a presence here, Mr Heron. Would it be possible to purchase a house in town, rented to a respectable tenant in my absence?”
It could be done, though the purchase of real estate by a woman who had neither husband nor father to hold the title raised some difficulties. A trust could solve the problem, however.
The casualty lists started to come through in the following week. The War Department in Washington had had no expectation of major losses and had not organised itself even to notify the families of the dead and seriously wounded. The newspapers had combined with the few clerks to meet the lack in the end.
The local newspaper produced a black-bordered special edition when the first intimation of calamity arrived.
Miss Parsons sat in the hotel lobby with her copy, read slowly, horrified by the scale of the disaster; the figures seemed huge to her, and to the rest of the town. One hundred and forty were now known to be dead from their regiment; only three officers had survived, Colonel Mayberry and his son killed arm in arm. She read on, seeking other names, turned the page to discover Captain Burke’s name in a headline.
“Promoted in the field, by General McClellan in person! He and the remnants of the battalion held the roadway behind the bridge across the Bull Run and alone prevented the Secessionists from advancing on Washington.”
She called the news across to the counter-clerk, an elderly gentleman who had much enjoyed his proximity to the Sharps Kid over the previous winter. Midday regulars in the saloon heard and were not at all surprised – it was the sort of thing one might expect of such a man!
It did not compensate for their losses, but it provided a counterpoint.
Placards appeared next morning, calling for volunteers to replace their lost boys; three hundred men were called for and a thousand were hammering on the mayor’s door before nightfall. The difficulty lay in making a choice, and the state authorities were forced to announce the formation of two more battalions with immediate effect.
Mr Heron reported that there was, as he had predicted, no shortage of would-be purchasers for the hotel.
“Men with ready money, too, ma’am, plenty of that about. I expect to close with a high bidder by the end of next week. Where there is already a shortage, I am told, ma’am, is in workers in town and out on the farms. So many young men have flocked to the colours that many employers are at their wits end!”
“They must employ those who are debarred by their nature from fighting, Mr Heron.”
It took a little time for the meaning to sink into Heron’s mind.
“Runaways, ma’am?”
“Just so, sir. We all know that many pass through the city quietly, being transported to Canada and safety. With the war raging I believe that none will attempt to take them up and return them to servitude in the South. They will be well suited to work as farm hands, or as horse keepers or teamsters in town. A word to Reverend Briggs, for example, could not but be effective.”
Several of the local churches and chapels were widely known to be active in the Underground Railroad that escorted escapees to freedom. Collections had been openly made for the good work, though the Catholics and Episcopalians had been scathing in their condemnation of those who sought to circumvent the ‘God-given Institution of slavery’.
“Best done on the quiet, ma’am. Even those who most oppose slavery might not wish to encourage blacks to settle in the city. I would not myself, though for the best of good reasons – the man of colour is naturally a child of the tropical clime and we can only harm him by a gross exposure to the snowfall of our harsh winters!”
Miss Parsons agreed – it was a wholly logical argument, she thought. She did not seem to notice that Canada was even colder.
“What do you do when the hotel is sold, Miss Parsons?”
“I must make all well in Baltimore and Washington, Mr Heron. I do not know whether it will be best to retain the merchant house or to sell up. In wartime it is possible that a great profit might be made from importation of European goods and, of course, many of the men will put on a blue uniform. It was recently represented to me that we grow no opium in the United States, but that the need for morphine will soon become very great. The German glass hypodermic will also be in demand in the hospitals and on the battlefield where our brave lads suffer. We must meet their just demands for care and the relief of the pain they suffer in our service.”
“It may be said that pain is in the gift of the Lord, ma’am. Men may be doomed to suffer on Earth for the benefit of their souls. Perhaps we should give careful thought before wantonly dispensing relief from God’s burden!”
She had not met that particular argument before and stifled her instinctive contempt for it. She promised to think carefully on the question instead.
“There are to be services at all of our churches at the end of the week, ma’am. Thanksgiving for the sacrifice made by our young, and some not so young, men.”
She would attend, publicly and at the largest gathering which was to be open-air, despite the expectation that it would be accompanied by much and vulgar lamentation. There was to be a collection for the relief of those few families who had lost a bread-winner. Most of the first volunteers had been single men, but a few had been older heads of families, men with experience in the Mexican War who had felt obliged to serve and had become sergeants or subalterns. The older men had felt responsible for the boys and had taken disproportionate losses trying to shield them and lead them from harm. Money would not replace the dead men, but it would provide food over winter.
“Tell me, Major Burke, what is the true feeling in England about slave-holding? We hear much from the newspapers and ranting politicians, but what do the bulk of the people believe?”
Dick was relaxed after dinner, had possibly drunk a glass more than was entirely wise and forgot to be cautious in McClellan’s company.
“’Britons never, never shall be slaves’, sir. Nor shall they hold them. It has been the law of England forever that any slave who sets foot on English soil is instantly free. Sailors on slave-ships were always held in some public contempt and generally would disguise their occupation from those on land. A politician who expressed sympathy with the slave-holders would very soon find his windows broken, I believe – the mob would be outraged. Slavery is not for us, sir – we are not of that particular sort!”
McClellan, who had no objections to slavery at all, was displeased to hear that. He had hoped to be told that British sympathies actually laid much with the South.
“Then, sir, you would not expect Her Majesty’s government to pressure the Great Gorilla to make terms with the Confederate States?”
“I would confidently expect them to do no such thing, sir. Benign neutrality is the most that Richmond can look for, and that only while they pay their bills for armaments in gold. The Royal Navy will be on alert as well. I do not believe that Whitehall would tolerate, for example, the despatch of a French army across the Atlantic. A blockade of French ports coupled with the threat of an English alliance with Prussia would very soon quash that foolishness.”
In common with many others among the Democrats, McClellan had hoped for, and half-expected, British support for the South, followed by a nod and a wink when a coup in Washington ‘modified’ many of the concepts of popular
sovereignty in the States. Aristocratic rule was solidly established in England and should, he thought, be reinstated in the Americas, to the benefit of all – ordinary folk had better things to do than concern themselves with government. He was not pleased to be rather dismissively informed that he was wrong.
“I am surprised that account should be taken of the opinions of the mob, Major Burke.”
“The French were surprised in 1789 when they did not take such account, sir. And again in 1830, and in 1848! It is a very unwise man, I believe, who does not allow for the ordinary folk – they have no place in saying what government policy ought to be, that is certainly true, they lack the education and the knowledge of public affairs. But when it comes to questions of morality, of right and wrong, in fact of what ought not to be, they must be listened to. The mob is nasty, sir, but my reading tells me that it can be fundamentally wise… sometimes.”
“What makes the wisdom of the mob, would you say, sir?” McClellan was openly sarcastic, his good opinion forfeited.
“I do not know, for sure, sir. Long habit and history; old beliefs; the stories that mothers tell their children and the tales that teachers offer in school? In these modern times, perhaps the newspapers have an influence, and I am told that the music-halls with their songs have an effect. They say that in the Crimean War the popular songs of battle were on every man’s lips.”
“Songs! I have tried to ban that ridiculous doggerel of ‘John Brown’s Body’, have forbidden it a hundred times, but still I hear it on every route march!”
Dick shrugged – that was what he had been trying to say – the common man might love Little Mac, but he would not change what was right.
“You are aware that the Young Napoleon now has doubts of your loyalty, Major Burke?”
The Prince de Joinville seemed mildly amused, offered Dick a cigar, was even more amused when he refused with a shudder.
“You did not say to him the words he wished to hear, which reflects ill upon you.”
“I lack the qualities demanded of a soldier, I fear, Prince.”
“No, sir. You possess some soldierly qualities that he lacks. You are not his equal as an engineer or as an administrator of armies – in those fields he may be the greatest ever. But you have shown a willingness to stand boldly against the odds. He is no coward, he fought well in the heat of battle in Mexico, do not mistake me. But he lacks the strength – the ‘bottom’ you English call it – to stand while a greater foe comes inexorably onward. Indeed, I would go further, he magnifies the foe to give an excuse not to fight him. This nonsense of two hundred thousand men waiting across the Potomac! There cannot be one third of that number – there are not so many men under arms in the whole of the South! But it is an excuse to avoid action. He will not fight unless he is pushed.”
“Who is to push him?”
“Mr Lincoln will, eventually. McClellan will never actually depose him, for fear that he might not be supported, that the opposition is too powerful. Another reason for him to come to hate you – he will seek an excuse, possibly the English undermining him, suborning his allies, reinforcing his enemies. You should go before he finds an excuse to bring you to a court-martial.”
“How? I cannot just walk out on my commission. I am a soldier, like it or not.”
“Propose that you should be sent to England, to seek the ear of newspapermen, to pay for propaganda, to create a climate of opinion in his favour. I would do it myself, except that I am unwelcome in France and the British do not want to be seen to harbour me.”
“It could be a good move, Prince. To be honest, sir, army life in the field is not unpleasant, but I do not think I am cut out to be a political gentleman in Washington. A return to England might be a fine idea.”
Book One: The Making
of a Man Series
Chapter Seven
Dick had some difficulty obtaining an interview with McClellan, found him stiff and unwelcoming at first.
“Our cause would benefit greatly from European support, sir. With respect, sir, and from your travels in Europe you will know this to be true: the English will judge a man more by his accent than by his words. An American will be mocked for his language and any reason in his statements will be listened to the less for the way that he makes them.”
McClellan was forced to agree; he had been irritated more than once by haw-hawing English aristocrats.
“So, Major Burke, what have you to say on this topic?”
“I have the accent, sir. Born with it. I can be listened to by my own people in a way that no American will be. Was I to go to London, and later perhaps to Paris, Vienna and Berlin, then I could possibly achieve much as your emissary. I rather suspect that at minimum the people in Whitehall would listen more readily to me than to the President’s ambassador.”
“I could not send you as attaché at the embassy in London.”
“With respect, sir, it would be better that you were not known to have ‘sent’ me at all. I am an Englishman who has chosen to return home, no more. It would do no harm if I was to be identified in London as having fought at Bull Run, but no more than that.”
McClellan listened a little longer before dismissing Dick – he would consider the proposal, he said.
“He will permit you to resign your commission, Major Burke, that is for certain. If you prefer he will offer long, indefinite, furlough.”
De Joinville poured a glass of whiskey, rather pleased with himself for having suggested the stratagem.
“The Little Napoleon will be glad to see the back of you, in fact, particularly at this moment. There have been suggestions made that you should be promoted again and sent with a battalion or two into the Shenandoah Valley, there to stir up trouble among the natives and draw Confederate attention away from the Potomac. You have a minor reputation as a fighting soldier – and there are few of those at the moment!”
“I would have thought he would have been happy to see the back of me, Prince. I would no longer be a member of the Army of the Potomac.”
“And what if you are to achieve a military success while he lies supine outside Washington!”
“Ah! I had not considered that. A successful campaign, be it never so small, will cast doubt on his abilities. He must be anxious to see me gone.”
The Prince agreed, said he had been told as much from several sources.
“The only question in his mind is that of finance. McClellan is not himself a wealthy man and must present your mission to his Democrat supporters, many of whom are very rich indeed. That will take a week or two, I suspect.”
“So, a month and I shall be rocking on the bosom of the Atlantic?”
They drank to the prospect.
Dick found himself with no duties to perform at headquarters and took himself into the city. The town was even more crowded, packed with businessmen and speculators and minor politicians, a number of whom greeted him by name, suggesting that they might discover a profit in his acquaintance. It was definitely time to be elsewhere before McClellan planted a knife between his shoulder blades; the Young Napoleon was as good as his namesake at destroying his rivals, even if less enthusiastic about fighting his enemies.
He found Miss Parson’s office to be occupied by a vaguely familiar manager. He was rapidly brought up to date with the tragedy.
“A pity, sir. I liked the gentleman – brave and intelligent and with much to offer to his country. He is a loss that we can ill afford, though I suspect but one of many to come.”
The manager had only rarely met Mr Parsons, had little to add.
“Will Miss Parsons remain in the West, do you know?”
“The notes I have received from her state that she is to sell up some of the family interests there and to put others under local management, a process that will take a few weeks more yet, Major.”
“I am to be sent to England, I gather. Will probably sail very soon and so will be unlikely to meet her face to face. Can you tell me anything of our business
ventures?”
The Belgian rifles and powder and ball had arrived and had been very quickly sold. The manager had been instructed to hold the Major’s funds on deposit, pending his instructions.
“In excess of thirty thousand dollars, sir, the profit margins having been rather high.”
Twice as much as Dick had ever expected; he wondered whether he was being precipitate in his decision to leave the States.
“There have been one or two questions raised about the rifles, Major. It would seem that there has been the odd misfire and a breech or two blown…”
Dick wondered then whether he should not leave the States even more quickly.
“The funds held on deposit, sir; it were best that they were transferred directly to England for use there. Can you send them to the firm’s banking correspondents in Liverpool?”
Given written instructions and that could easily be achieved; the manager provided pen and paper.
Dick wrote a second, longer note to Miss Parsons, asked that it should be despatched with the manager’s next communication to her. He did not have any direction in England but a letter to his bank would find him. He would make contact as soon as he could.
McClellan called Dick to private interview a week later, confirmed that he was to remain on full pay while seeking out sources of necessary materials of war for the Army of the Potomac.
“You are to make your way to New York, if you would be so good, Major Burke. There you will introduce yourself at the bank specified and will be given funds for your mission and passage on a steamer. I shall look forward to hearing of your success, Major Burke.”
McClellan stood and accepted Dick’s salute; he made no attempt to shake hands.
Tickets were provided for the railroad, the most comfortable of cars as befitted an officer on the general’s staff. Dick made brief farewells, discovered that his batman had already packed his bags and was driven to the station in very quick time.
A Victorian Gent (The Making of a Man Series, Book 1) Page 15