The Dominion's Dilemma: The United States of British America

by James Devine

  “Well my dear Count, what is left on the agenda? I am tired of conferences. I don’t wish to spend a third full day in this room.” Already such major issues as the proposed meetings with the Emperor Francis II of Austria and his First Minister Prince Metternich in April at Munschengratz and with the Prussians later in the year at Berlin to formalize the three-nation autocratic alliance against the democratic monarchies of the West had been reviewed. Plans to end the irritating insurgency by the bandit Shamil in the Caucasus had been finalized. What new concessions could be squeezed out of the Persians to follow up on the recent annexation of that kingdom’s former provinces of Nakhickevan and Erivan had also been discussed during the previous two days.

  “Majesty, the major agenda item is the request by the Sultan for assistance against the forces of Pasha Mehemet Ali in Palestine. The Egyptians are moving on Syria and Constantinople seems helpless to stop them. This is a golden opportunity. Especially as none of the other Powers can object, as the Turks have actually invited us in.”

  “Yes, the Sultan’s request is a wonderful Christmas gift. We’ll discuss this ‘golden opportunity’ with my other ministers. Is that all that remains?”

  “No, Your Majesty. Prince Lieven has received a letter from the Princess in London. He has urged that the information it offers be added to the agenda.”

  The Czar smiled slightly. “If it was not from Princess Dorothea, I would not consider it. But as my late brother often said, ‘It is a pity the Princess wears skirts. She would have made an excellent diplomat.’ ” Czar Alexander I had in fact entrusted the Princess with a secret overture to the British government in 1825 that bypassed her husband, the longtime Czarist ambassador to the Court of St. James. Since that time, she had played astonishing diplomatic roles in the rebirth of Greece and the creation of Belgium.

  “Well, if the Princess has some information for us, perhaps we will consider it. Has Prince Lieven discussed it with you?”

  “Princess Dorothea has learned that the British may be considering the abolition of slavery throughout their Empire.”

  The Czar smiled. “I fail to see how such a possible edict belongs on the agenda of this conference, Count Karl. Unless you are implying that I should follow their apparent example…”

  “Surely not, Your Majesty. It appears Lord Grey’s government is concerned about possible reaction in the British American province. Count Nicholas Ignatieff has also picked up similar rumblings from his English sources.” Ignatieff, a childhood friend of the Czar’s, was a chief in Russia’s informal secret intelligence services. A broad-shouldered yet wiry, strikingly handsome black-haired man in his mid 30s, he was renowned for the half blue/half brown coloring of his right eye, a trait that went back several generations in his family. It was one he had also passed on to his newly-born son.

  “Well, since Count Nicholas will undoubtedly bring it up anyway, put it on the agenda.” The Czar sighed. “But the Ottoman opportunity has priority. Obtaining a warm weather port is vital to Russia’s long-term goals. The Persian war gave us naval access to the Caspian Sea. Perhaps this Egyptian uprising against the Ottomans will give us access through the Bosporus Straits!”

  At the Czar’s signal, the veteran Foreign Minister—he had been in office since 1814—moved to admit the other ministers and high-ranking generals to the room.

  ___________

  Count Nicholas Ignatieff knew what his department’s role in response to the Sultan’s request would be. Even before Russian troops were landed in Syria to block the Egyptian advance on the Anatolian Peninsula, his agents would be on the ground, both in Syria and in Palestine. This in addition to the agents he normally maintained in and around Constantinople.

  That he would do so before a decision was finalized was indicative of the man: headstrong, confident to the point---some would argue far past that point---of arrogance…and deadly. The Count was a crack shot with both pistol and rifle and excelled with the saber; he had ended duels with at least two unfortunate Russian noblemen with well-aimed pistol shots and another with an overmatched Polish noble with the saber. All three, of course, had been over women; two wives and one sister. How many others he had terminated in the line of duty was debated within the Russian secret services; most observers credited him with seven-to-eight ‘official’ killings over the past decade.

  The intelligence coming from London had Ignatieff concerned…as well as fascinated. For that reason, he was only half listening as the Czar and his advisors agreed to land 10,000 troops---sent through the Bosporus, for the first time ever to be opened to the Russian Navy---on the Syrian coast. The force would move inland to confront the Egyptian army under Ibrahim Pasha and force him, preferably without a battle, to retreat to Egypt.

  That the Turks were so weak that they needed assistance to put down the revolt did not surprise Ignatieff. The Count was well aware of Constantinople’s helplessness. He and the Czar had thoroughly discussed the possibility of an invasion, but had reluctantly discarded the idea. The other Powers would simply not sit still while Russia got its paws on Constantinople and the Straits. But that the Sultan would actually request us to intervene militarily is almost too amazing. Meanwhile, I already have my Ottoman operation in motion.

  He was still turning the news from London, both Princess Dorothea’s letter and his own intelligence reports, over in his head. The long-range goal of Romanov foreign policy had always been to supersede the British in India. A later Russian autocrat, Lenin, would call India the ‘depot of the world.’ It was one of the few times the two Nicholases, Czar and Count, would have agreed with him. The British had pushed aside the Portuguese and Dutch and were merrily looting the subcontinent. With the riches of India flowing to St. Petersburg instead of London, Russia would supplant Great Britain as the world’s foremost Power.

  But how to accomplish such a gigantic feat?

  Even by the most optimistic estimates, it will take our forces another 10-to-15 years to arrive at India’s borders utilizing the overland route through Central Asia. Waging the successful Persian War in 1827 and annexing those two provinces was a start, but all those khanates in the wild Central Asian plain still block the way, even before the specter of Afghanistan can be confronted. But what if the British were to be distracted elsewhere? Perhaps by a rebellion in North America? A rebellion that Lord Grey’s government in London apparently considers more than a remote possibility?

  If the British were tied up in a long-term war in North America, would they have the strength to resist a Russian Army sent through Persia, bypassing the khanates and Afghanistan? Surely the Persian War has shown that Teheran can not stop such an Army. Perhaps the Shah could be bribed into allowing our forces free transit, especially if we agreed to look the other way while he moved into the Valley of the Euphrates toward Baghdad. The dream in Teheran, after all, is to reassemble the ancient Persian Empire. Why not allow them mastery of all that sand and dust?

  This must be brought to His Majesty’s attention immediately…

  The Count’s musings were suddenly interrupted by a savage pounding that literally rocked the conference table. The red-faced Czar had risen from his seat and was barely able to choke back his anger as he glared at Prince Alexander Chernyshyov.

  “Don’t ever again suggest, even in jest, that I consider selling or trading off so much as a square inch of the realm,” he said, slowly and icily.

  “My Alaska province is our foothold in North America. We have already begun to expand down the eastern Pacific Coast. Our settlement of Fort Ross has put both the British and Mexicans on notice: I will not acknowledge any God-given right of the British to hold North America. And the Mexicans must realize that they can not stop us from advancing further into their California province! We expand, not retreat! Is that perfectly clear? I will require a plan from you within 30 days as to how we can build up our North American presence. Never again let me hear any of you speak of relinquishing Russian territory…”

  The shaken
War Minister was vigorously shaking his head in agreement. Apparently, Ignatieff realized, the Prince had suggested that the seemingly-worthless Alaskan tundra---just an extension of Siberia, in Ignatieff’s view---be sold or otherwise offered to the British in exchange for a hands-off policy as things developed in the Turkish adventure.

  “…Well gentlemen, if my policy is now completely clear to each of you, is there anything left on the agenda?”

  Count Nesselrode, anxious to change the subject, brought up the Princess Lieven’s news from London.

  Turning to his ambassador, the Czar said: “Yes Prince Khristofor, as I understand it, your lovely wife is reporting some interesting developments within the British Empire. Expand on the news, please.”

  “Your Majesty, my wife has written me that Lord Grey’s government has secretly continued with the plans first apparently discussed under the previous Tory government to abolish slavery throughout the British Empire.”

  “At what level of the British government did this secret emerge, my dear Prince?” asked the Czar. “How common is the knowledge of this proposed action?”

  “My wife informs me that it comes from the very highest levels of the government and is a tightly-held secret, or was when she dispatched her letter.”

  “Begging Your Majesty’s pardon,” broke in Count Sergey Uvarov. Officially the newly-appointed Education Minister, Count Uvarov was one of the pillars of Nicholas’ reactionary regime. As such, he was one of the very few who could successfully survive interrupting an Imperial conversation. “I fail to see how this, err, rumor meets the criteria as a discussion point on today’s agenda.”

  “I’m not certain either, Sergey. But I am certain the Prince…and others…will explain. Proceed, Prince Lieven.”

  “Yes, Majesty. The British, you may be vaguely aware, abolished the African slave trade over 25 years ago. However, slavery has continued to flourish in substantial portions of their Empire, notably, the West Indies and the Southern portion of British America. The plan seems to be one of financial compensation to the slaveholders, paid out over a period of years.”

  “To reiterate Count Uvarov’s question, why would this be of interest to Russia?” asked the Czar, a strange smile on his face.

  The Foreign Minister broke in. “If I may, your Majesty. I believe Count Ignatieff has an interesting explanation.”

  “Well Nicholas. You’ve been quiet all morning. Have you been considering this issue, too?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty, I have.” Ignatieff leaned forward in his chair. “I, too, have received information from London, though not from the level at which the Princess so ably operates.” He nodded formally to Prince Lieven, though the malice was evident in his eyes.

  The Prince flushed at the obvious implication of Ignatieff’s remark. Though formerly a general who had fought successfully against Napoleon, he was now 57 years old and soft from years of diplomatic work. He would be no match for the younger, stronger and steadier Count in a duel. But I will find a way to strike back, Ignatieff. You are not as invulnerable as you think, you malicious bastard.

  “My information confirms,” Ignatieff was saying, “that a proposal to abolish slavery will be presented to their Parliament this spring. The concern seems to center on the reaction in British America.” The Count then proceeded with a briefing that, while not as detailed or as lucid as the one Bratton was to give in London two weeks later, nonetheless educated the Russian leadership to the potential explosiveness of the abolition issue.

  “So, it appears the Lion may be in for some internal strife,” said the Czar, the smile playing at his lips, at the conclusion of Ignatieff’s report. “I don’t suppose you have any thoughts on what our position should be if this most unfortunate strife should come to pass?”

  “Your Majesty, I have given this matter serious consideration. I have some ideas on how advantage can be taken, if and when the situation ignites.”

  Before a hard-faced group whose glares gradually softened as the potential for Imperial gains became more enticing, Count Ignatieff painted a picture of Russian advancement to the very gates of India.

  “Now all of this, of course, is mere daydreaming if the potential crisis is settled peacefully. But there may be an opportunity here, if British America erupts in violence. If we can edge that crisis toward violence, I consider it our holy duty to do so.”

  “‘Holy’ duty, I question, Nicholas,” said the Czar, smiling now broadly. “’Imperial duty,’ definitely. How do you suggest my government should proceed?”

  “Your Majesty, I propose that I travel to London at once, in order to ascertain on the spot if abolition will be ordered; and how the Grey government thinks the issue will be received in British America. If abolition has been submitted to Parliament, and if the government is still worried about the reaction, I shall then proceed to British America, to make contact with any leaders of a rebellion, or potential one. In order to offer them your Majesty’s friendship and assistance, financially and perhaps otherwise.”

  The Czar of All the Russias was on his feet. “Count Ignatieff, you are ordered to proceed to London immediately, there to determine what course of action is in the best interests of my country. You will work closely with Princess Lieven, of course, as well as with the Prince, once he returns to England.”

  Ignatieff nodded with satisfaction at the Czar’s order. Yes, I’ve always had a craving to ‘work closely’ with the Princess…

  “Gentlemen,” said the Czar with evident relief and a hint of warning, “unless there is further comment or other issues left to be discussed, I declare this conference closed.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  London, England

  January 18, 1833:

  It had taken the better part of two weeks of hard-driving, winter travel but Ignatieff had arrived in London two nights ago. He had spent yesterday and most of today in discussions with his own agents, reviewing reports, mostly fragmentary, from their sources within the British government. Information sometimes purchased; sometimes obtained by blackmail or the threat of force. The conclusion: the emancipation bill would be introduced into Parliament shortly; certainly before Easter.

  Ignatieff was a hard man and was hardly ever taken back, but the cost staggered him: the British were willing to spend up to 50-million pounds sterling over seven years to underwrite the plan. For that price, we could bribe every khan in Central Asia into selling us his kingdom! We could be overlooking India from the Afghan passes in two years…

  More importantly, he had also ascertained that the Grey government sensed possible trouble in the British American South as a result of the bill, which apparently would face no great opposition in Parliament. What the government planned to do to alleviate such trouble was more difficult to pin down, but a high-level meeting had been held earlier in the month, apparently concerning British American reaction to the emancipation issue. His agents were still unclear as to what decisions, if any, had been made; in fact, they were still attempting to find out exactly who had attended.

  Ignatieff hated to proceed into any meeting without holding the upper intelligence hand. Physical toughness, skill with weaponry and cold bloodedness: he prided himself on possessing all three. So, however, did many others, including those he had, literally, stepped on and over during his rise in the secret intelligence apparatus. It was the ability to obtain and marshal information that set him apart, as well as the will to ruthlessly act on the conclusions the intelligence suggested. That’s what troubled him about tonight’s private dinner meeting with the Princess Lieven: does she know more than my sources can tell me about what happened at that high level meeting? And what actions, if any, emanated from it?

  Still a breathtaking beauty, though in her late 40s, Princess Dorothea had utilized her position as wife of the longtime Russian ambassador to become a leader of London society. She had, in turn, utilized her society position to gather political information that established her as a political and diplomatic force in
her own right.

  Ignatieff had met the Princess during previous visits to London, but had never shared more than a few meaningless words with her. Now he was on fire to be alone with the legendary Dorothea, but unexpectedly unsure as to how to proceed, at least on a professional plane. (On the personal level, the Count was quite sure of himself. Thoroughly misogynistic to an extent astounding even for a Russian nobleman, he had no doubt that the evening would end in her bedroom. He considered the Princess to be little more sexually exclusive than the servant girl he had ravaged the preceding night.) Never before had he scheduled a meeting with a female on a professional level. And a meeting at which, remarkably, she might have the upper hand when it came to information.

  ___________

  Somewhere in the MidAtlantic Ocean

  January 18, 1833:

  HMS Irresistible had fought its way through a second blizzard and had emerged into bright, if freezing, morning sunshine when Harry Bratton cautiously made his way out of his cabin and onto the main deck. There is a reason Brattons have always avoided the Senior Service: we can get bloody well seasick in the middle of a pond.

  The Captain---the Duke of Wellington had informed Harry upon sailing that he was back on full pay for the duration of this crisis---had begun suffering before England was out of eyesight. He had remained seasick through most of the nine days they had been at sea. The Duke, whose previous long-distance seagoing had been limited to an Indiaman’s lumbering three-month voyages to and from the subcontinent, hugging the European, African and Asian coastlines, had also been seasick, though more sporadically. Captain Sir Stephen Richards, on the other hand, must have a cast iron stomach, Bratton thought. The fellow acts like this hellish punishment—up-and-down, back-and-forth, winds howling and snow coming down interminably—is a bloody Sunday afternoon pleasure cruise down the Thames. Well, Sir Stephen estimates 13 more days till we see Baltimore harbor. Dear God, give us a few days of calm weather…