I'm probably thinking too much about it, but there being two boats named Terrapin seems to be a set up for some kind of miscommunication in the battle that could hit American force badly. Also, is Wellington regarded as the victor of Nancy, as such? Or was that more a bloody draw in hindsight?
The Dead Skunk
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I didn't even think of that. If their plans were any more complicated than "everybody attack the Volonté until it sinks" that could easily happen.
Wellington is the general who defeated Napoleon, but—thanks to Masséna and the Midnight Charge—beating Napoleon turned out to be not the same thing as winning the battle.
A Hazy Shade of Winter (2)
Lycaon pictus
Donor
September 5, 1838
West of Quai-Trudeau
about 7 a.m.
Taylor watched grimly through his spyglass. The battle on the river was about to begin, and as expected, the Volonté was retreating in the face of seven gunboats. Otherwise, things were not going according to plan.
The strongest vessels—that would be the Lewis, the Fitch and the Fulton—were supposed to engage the Volonté, with the rest ready to serve as backup if necessary… which he doubted it would be. That would leave at least four undamaged gunboats ready to strike at British/Louisianan positions on the riverbank, and there was a good chance one or more of the bigger boats would come through with little damage and enough ammunition to do the same.
Over the course of the invasion last year, when the Volonté had been responding to U.S. forces all along the river, they’d worked out its top speed—about three kilometers an hour[1]—and all the American gunboats were supposed to be capable of at least five. But some of them were faster than the others, and they didn’t seem to have practiced working as a team. The two Terrapins were pulling ahead of the rest, as if having the same name had inspired them into rivalry.
A shot from the Volonté’s stern chaser ripped away a chunk of armor from one of the Terrapins. To avoid presenting that side of itself as a target, it moved to starboard… which put it between the other Terrapin and the Volonté. Its side guns hit the Volonté, but couldn’t do more than dent the armor. Everybody must be going deaf inside there.
The Lewis was coming up to port of the Volonté, firing as it came. In another minute or so it would be alongside the Louisianan ship, and its side guns were heavier. The other boats weren’t far behind, and had already started shooting. Red darts of heated-shot fire crashed against the side of the Volonté. A fresh fountain of steam bubbled up every time one of them fell in the river.
Then, without warning, a half a dozen huge rockets flew out from that hill east of the town and exploded around the Lewis. Congreves with Henry-Hale butt ends. And some Congreves can be one or three hundred pounds. Those must be the 300-pound models. Wouldn’t want to haul them around on a battlefield, but if you’ve got a fortified position… can we build rockets like that? If not, why not? We could use them.
Smoke was pouring out one window of the Lewis. One of the rocket blasts must have started a fire in there. And that’s just the rockets. They haven’t started using their guns yet. If the Volonté gets any closer to that battery, we might actually lose. Seven against one, and we might actually lose. And what the hell is the little one doing?
The Holmes seemed to be running at its top speed, and was plowing ahead of the others, the Volonté’s shot going clear over it or bouncing along its iron roof like a stone skipping over a pond. There was a little ripple in the water running just in front of the Holmes that the bow didn’t account for. A ram? They didn’t even tell me they had a ram.
Whoever was steering the Volonté seemed to suddenly realize the danger. The larger boat turned sharply to starboard. The Holmes tried to follow. It got closer, came alongside… and then Taylor couldn’t quite see what happened next, because the Volonté was blocking his view of the Holmes. But both boats seemed to come to a stop.
Taylor waited. The Volonté’s rear gun was still firing. The American gunboats were still firing back.
And then they stopped. Crew were jumping out of the Volonté and the Holmes and swimming for shore—or for one of the other boats, in the case of the Holmes. Taylor still couldn’t see the Holmes, but it definitely looked like the Volonté was starting to sink. Now the only thing they had to worry about was that hill covered in rockets and artillery.[2]
By the time the Holmes was sideswiping the Volonté, tearing loose a chunk of hull below the waterline, the Haitians were already retreating into town under orders from Wellington. He had already considered how the shape of his defenses changed if the river became enemy territory, and had decided that his mercenaries were too vulnerable to enfilade fire.
Quai-Trudeau itself was small, a far cry from the sort of built-up urban area that would eat whole armies in later wars. Nonetheless, by fighting from cover for as long as possible the Haitians and Louisianans took 428 casualties and inflicted 2,105 on the Americans—and that was just to take the town. When Taylor took the town, he found that Wellington already had muliple artillery batteries pointing down the road from north of town.
Scouts—those who returned alive—reported that the Tunica Bayou northeast of the village was covered from both sides. Any attack up the stream would turn into a second Brooke’s Charge. They reported, however, that there was a second stream (Pollocks Bayou) which appeared to be lighty guarded and which seemed to head into the rear of what the Louisianans were now calling “Battery Hill.”
Before first light on September 6th, Taylor led an attack of 20,000 men up this stream, taking the one small fort that guarded it. What he discovered was that Wellington, in the months he had spent acquainting himself with the terrain, had learned about Pollocks Bayou, and had given it no special attention precisely because it was a dead end. The most useful path from the head of the stream to Battery Hill was a low but narrow ridge that was at least as well guarded as the road north of Quai-Trudeau.
Taylor decided on a two-pronged attack south, one of which would take the ridge and the other (led by Call) would take a path immediately west. As the forts of Wellington’s lines reinforced each other, so the two prongs of the attack would reinforce each other.
At least, that was the plan, and with ten times as many men it might have succeeeded. As it was, the attack made little progress, and was nearly cut off by Labatut’s cavalry attacking down Tunica Bayou. Lt. Col. Martin Scott and Major Halleck held them off long enough for Taylor and Call to retreat, Halleck organizing the defense while Scott[3] led from the front with his rifle, his legendary skill as a marksman being enough to halt several attacks all by itself before he was killed by a Louisianan volley.
By the end of the 6th, the two sides had reached an impasse. Taylor held the village of Quai-Trudeau and a portion of the defensive works north of it. Wellington held the bulk of the surrounding hills. Taylor was free to maneuver on the floodplain west of the village, but while doing so was exposed to fire which he could not effectively answer. His boats controlled the river west of the village, but did not dare venture within range of Battery Hill.
On the morning of the 7th, five supply barges heading down the Mississippi came under mortar fire from Battery Hill. The barges were not as fast or maneuverable as the gunboats and had a much larger cross-section from that angle. Two boats carrying food were sunk before they could reach the shore, and one carrying powder and shot simply exploded. Taylor knew that if he could not safely bring supplies down the river, he could not even remain where he was, let alone advance. Taylor reluctantly retreated to Fort Adams, leaving Wellington undefeated in America when word of the cease-fire reached the front…
[1] Unlike with the Representation, this really is the Volonté’s top speed. The engineers who designed the Volonté decided that since it wouldn’t be going on any long trips, they should sacrifice speed for the maneuverability to navigate the winding lower Mississippi and avoid obstacles, plus the engine torque to push the boat over the occasional uncharted shallow spot.
[2] As best I can tell, this particular stretch of the Mississippi had about the same course then that it does now, except for being a little further west south of Como Plantation.
[3] Martin Scott is one of those people that tall tales got told of back in the day. They say when he went out raccoon hunting, a raccoon saw who it was, came down from the tree and surrendered.
West of Quai-Trudeau
about 7 a.m.
Taylor watched grimly through his spyglass. The battle on the river was about to begin, and as expected, the Volonté was retreating in the face of seven gunboats. Otherwise, things were not going according to plan.
The strongest vessels—that would be the Lewis, the Fitch and the Fulton—were supposed to engage the Volonté, with the rest ready to serve as backup if necessary… which he doubted it would be. That would leave at least four undamaged gunboats ready to strike at British/Louisianan positions on the riverbank, and there was a good chance one or more of the bigger boats would come through with little damage and enough ammunition to do the same.
Over the course of the invasion last year, when the Volonté had been responding to U.S. forces all along the river, they’d worked out its top speed—about three kilometers an hour[1]—and all the American gunboats were supposed to be capable of at least five. But some of them were faster than the others, and they didn’t seem to have practiced working as a team. The two Terrapins were pulling ahead of the rest, as if having the same name had inspired them into rivalry.
A shot from the Volonté’s stern chaser ripped away a chunk of armor from one of the Terrapins. To avoid presenting that side of itself as a target, it moved to starboard… which put it between the other Terrapin and the Volonté. Its side guns hit the Volonté, but couldn’t do more than dent the armor. Everybody must be going deaf inside there.
The Lewis was coming up to port of the Volonté, firing as it came. In another minute or so it would be alongside the Louisianan ship, and its side guns were heavier. The other boats weren’t far behind, and had already started shooting. Red darts of heated-shot fire crashed against the side of the Volonté. A fresh fountain of steam bubbled up every time one of them fell in the river.
Then, without warning, a half a dozen huge rockets flew out from that hill east of the town and exploded around the Lewis. Congreves with Henry-Hale butt ends. And some Congreves can be one or three hundred pounds. Those must be the 300-pound models. Wouldn’t want to haul them around on a battlefield, but if you’ve got a fortified position… can we build rockets like that? If not, why not? We could use them.
Smoke was pouring out one window of the Lewis. One of the rocket blasts must have started a fire in there. And that’s just the rockets. They haven’t started using their guns yet. If the Volonté gets any closer to that battery, we might actually lose. Seven against one, and we might actually lose. And what the hell is the little one doing?
The Holmes seemed to be running at its top speed, and was plowing ahead of the others, the Volonté’s shot going clear over it or bouncing along its iron roof like a stone skipping over a pond. There was a little ripple in the water running just in front of the Holmes that the bow didn’t account for. A ram? They didn’t even tell me they had a ram.
Whoever was steering the Volonté seemed to suddenly realize the danger. The larger boat turned sharply to starboard. The Holmes tried to follow. It got closer, came alongside… and then Taylor couldn’t quite see what happened next, because the Volonté was blocking his view of the Holmes. But both boats seemed to come to a stop.
Taylor waited. The Volonté’s rear gun was still firing. The American gunboats were still firing back.
And then they stopped. Crew were jumping out of the Volonté and the Holmes and swimming for shore—or for one of the other boats, in the case of the Holmes. Taylor still couldn’t see the Holmes, but it definitely looked like the Volonté was starting to sink. Now the only thing they had to worry about was that hill covered in rockets and artillery.[2]
By the time the Holmes was sideswiping the Volonté, tearing loose a chunk of hull below the waterline, the Haitians were already retreating into town under orders from Wellington. He had already considered how the shape of his defenses changed if the river became enemy territory, and had decided that his mercenaries were too vulnerable to enfilade fire.
Quai-Trudeau itself was small, a far cry from the sort of built-up urban area that would eat whole armies in later wars. Nonetheless, by fighting from cover for as long as possible the Haitians and Louisianans took 428 casualties and inflicted 2,105 on the Americans—and that was just to take the town. When Taylor took the town, he found that Wellington already had muliple artillery batteries pointing down the road from north of town.
Scouts—those who returned alive—reported that the Tunica Bayou northeast of the village was covered from both sides. Any attack up the stream would turn into a second Brooke’s Charge. They reported, however, that there was a second stream (Pollocks Bayou) which appeared to be lighty guarded and which seemed to head into the rear of what the Louisianans were now calling “Battery Hill.”
Before first light on September 6th, Taylor led an attack of 20,000 men up this stream, taking the one small fort that guarded it. What he discovered was that Wellington, in the months he had spent acquainting himself with the terrain, had learned about Pollocks Bayou, and had given it no special attention precisely because it was a dead end. The most useful path from the head of the stream to Battery Hill was a low but narrow ridge that was at least as well guarded as the road north of Quai-Trudeau.
Taylor decided on a two-pronged attack south, one of which would take the ridge and the other (led by Call) would take a path immediately west. As the forts of Wellington’s lines reinforced each other, so the two prongs of the attack would reinforce each other.
At least, that was the plan, and with ten times as many men it might have succeeeded. As it was, the attack made little progress, and was nearly cut off by Labatut’s cavalry attacking down Tunica Bayou. Lt. Col. Martin Scott and Major Halleck held them off long enough for Taylor and Call to retreat, Halleck organizing the defense while Scott[3] led from the front with his rifle, his legendary skill as a marksman being enough to halt several attacks all by itself before he was killed by a Louisianan volley.
By the end of the 6th, the two sides had reached an impasse. Taylor held the village of Quai-Trudeau and a portion of the defensive works north of it. Wellington held the bulk of the surrounding hills. Taylor was free to maneuver on the floodplain west of the village, but while doing so was exposed to fire which he could not effectively answer. His boats controlled the river west of the village, but did not dare venture within range of Battery Hill.
On the morning of the 7th, five supply barges heading down the Mississippi came under mortar fire from Battery Hill. The barges were not as fast or maneuverable as the gunboats and had a much larger cross-section from that angle. Two boats carrying food were sunk before they could reach the shore, and one carrying powder and shot simply exploded. Taylor knew that if he could not safely bring supplies down the river, he could not even remain where he was, let alone advance. Taylor reluctantly retreated to Fort Adams, leaving Wellington undefeated in America when word of the cease-fire reached the front…
Eric Wayne Ellison, Anglo-American Wars of the 19th Century
[1] Unlike with the Representation, this really is the Volonté’s top speed. The engineers who designed the Volonté decided that since it wouldn’t be going on any long trips, they should sacrifice speed for the maneuverability to navigate the winding lower Mississippi and avoid obstacles, plus the engine torque to push the boat over the occasional uncharted shallow spot.
[2] As best I can tell, this particular stretch of the Mississippi had about the same course then that it does now, except for being a little further west south of Como Plantation.
[3] Martin Scott is one of those people that tall tales got told of back in the day. They say when he went out raccoon hunting, a raccoon saw who it was, came down from the tree and surrendered.
RIP Volonte, she fought gallantly till the bitter end against overwhelming odds.
Wellington's success here in the aftermath of Malaga I could see leading to the GAoL adopting a defensive doctrine as their primary policy.
Ceasefire already? Berrien must be more desperate than I thought.
Wellington's success here in the aftermath of Malaga I could see leading to the GAoL adopting a defensive doctrine as their primary policy.
Ceasefire already? Berrien must be more desperate than I thought.
Seems the Americans lost a fine soldier in Scott.
Hmm, while Taylor took a lot more casualties than Wellington he had some 55,000 men to start with. So he still had the numbers and he still had at least most of the River Fleet available. Options were still on the table.
It just doesn't seem to add up. The retreat to Fort Adams was humiliating for General Taylor personally, having lost so many men to no gain, but Berrien agreeing to a ceasefire is puzzling. That man in the White House is obsessed with expanding Dixie's power, and the Republic was likely his best shot. Not only is it already slaver territory but general American revanchism would allow for wider and deeper public support for taking it.
Why would Berrien give up now after already showing his stubborness refusing to resign and getting a back to the hilt endorsement from his fellow Quids? He doesn't hold anything he wants except western Florida, and that barely. Signs seem to indicate he'd press on until the Union's army was in a truly hopeless position, or Clay found some leverage to make his back down, rather than give up his war aims.
Something must have happened on the homefront to change the game. Hmm, though I suppose there may have been a reversal in Canada?
Hmm, while Taylor took a lot more casualties than Wellington he had some 55,000 men to start with. So he still had the numbers and he still had at least most of the River Fleet available. Options were still on the table.
It just doesn't seem to add up. The retreat to Fort Adams was humiliating for General Taylor personally, having lost so many men to no gain, but Berrien agreeing to a ceasefire is puzzling. That man in the White House is obsessed with expanding Dixie's power, and the Republic was likely his best shot. Not only is it already slaver territory but general American revanchism would allow for wider and deeper public support for taking it.
Why would Berrien give up now after already showing his stubborness refusing to resign and getting a back to the hilt endorsement from his fellow Quids? He doesn't hold anything he wants except western Florida, and that barely. Signs seem to indicate he'd press on until the Union's army was in a truly hopeless position, or Clay found some leverage to make his back down, rather than give up his war aims.
Something must have happened on the homefront to change the game. Hmm, though I suppose there may have been a reversal in Canada?
I don't think Berrien gives a damn enough about Canada to reverse course from that alone. Either a major political upheaval, or the South just got an arse kicking is my guess.
Yes, either someone just took a shot at him and this makes his realize that, possibly, he should really just put the brakes on, or what's left of the Florida front just disintegrated and Georgia is facing invasion by a British army supported by very angry Floridians.
And if the latter, Berrien sacrificing 1000 miles of Canada for twenty miles of Georgia is going to kick things off something fierce.
Exactly!
Though, come to think of it, it would be somewhat hilarious if "Floridaman" becomes a Boogryman that Georgian parents threaten their children with for the next century!
You know, I think there might be something that would really rankle America more than anything else about Wellington. He honestly didn't have a damn about the place and always saw it as, at most, a secondary concern to actual British interests. One of the greatest enemies of the US and the only reason he faced them was because it was a part of his job, a part that he considered beneath him. And he won. That's going to sting.
This reference is lost on me.
Perhaps Wellington quoted to the effect of: "The sidesow is done, now to the main event,"?
Where No King Shall Rule
Lycaon pictus
Donor
Florida's transparency laws in crime reporting have given it the mostly-undeserved reputation of a state where everybody runs around naked all day firing their guns in the air and hitting each other over the head with live reptiles.
I can imagine Wellington saying something like that.
This next chapter involved a lot of research, I'm still not sure if I got it right, and it involves a lot of discussion of other people's theology. But staying in my lane never got me anywhere, so…
September 26, 1838
Oval Office
Executive Mansion
Washington, DC
“I beg your pardon,” said Berrien. “How many men?”
“150,000,” said Poinsett, putting all the clarity he could into his voice so no one could pretend to misunderstand. “Our entire army, and then some. With twice as much artillery and rocketry as the Army currently has. And Taylor didn’t phrase it as a request. He said that it would be impossible to overcome the defensive line without them.” It was possible that Taylor had deliberately overestimated what he’d need just to be on the safe side. Poinsett, also to be on the safe side, didn’t say so.
“Are there even that many men living in Louisiana?”
“No, but I’ve heard some of their women have picked up rifles to fight alongside them.” Poinsett smiled. “In all seriousness, Mr. President, Wellington’s fortifications have given the defense all the advantage. And that isn’t even considering this strongpoint he’s built as a replacement for Fort-Douane. We’ll need some other way to supply our army down there. Barges, it seems, are vulnerable to fire from that fort.
“But that can wait. What I think we should discuss today is the situation in Astoria.”
Upshur spoke up. “You described it as a stalemate before?”
“It was… before. The territorial militia wasn’t strong enough to dislodge the British from Astoria City, or stop them from occupying the mouth of the Columbia.”
“Yes, yes, and one regiment can’t occupy the whole Willamette,” said Berrien. “What now? Have they sent more than one?”
“Not as far as I know,” said Poinsett. He doubted they had. One in the right place was all they needed to cut America off from the Pacific, and even the British would find it hard to keep a large army in victuals so far away from anything else. “But the natives—the Lower Chinooks, specificaly—are numerous. More numerous than the settlers. And they are said to be restless. The daughter of one of their chiefs has risen to lead them.”
Berrien smiled a little. “One queen threatening us from across the Atlantic, another one on the Pacific… I begin to understand John Knox.”
“I wish I shared your good humor, Mr. President. But if this Chinook queen has made common cause with the British… I will not be the secretary of defense who loses the Pacific Ocean.”
“Given that all your information is months old,” said Upshur, “how do you know it isn’t already too late?”
“I don’t. But if the Army can do nothing else, it can establish control and rebuild the settlement.”
“Not this late in the year, surely?”
“No. I’m very pleased with the progress the Army has shown in cold-weather movement—we saw it in Canada—but I would not test them against the Rocky Mountains in winter. But I believe they can carry supplies as far west as Fort Sublette, at the foot of the mountains, before spring. That will prepare the way for the expedition.”
“All this sounds very expensive,” said Taney.
“I’m afraid it will be. In fact—you recall Jesup’s original estimate of what it would have cost to reinforce Astoria to begin with? This will cost about twice that.”
“Of course,” said Upshur. “Reconquest is bound to be more expensive than reinforcement.”
“Speaking as your treasury secretary,” said Taney, “the money is there for one thing or the other, but not both. And before you make up your mind—we will not be able to pay for the army Taylor envisions even if we strip every other front naked. Lack of trade has cost us. We will need to begin reducing the size of our army next year.”
Berrien sighed. “You all want me to accept the cease-fire, don’t you?”
“To be blunt, Mr. President,” said Poinsett, “yes. At least, I do. At this point it would merely be acknowledging the facts in place. We are stalemated in Canada, stymied in Louisiana, and in Florida… what good does it do to hold one province if the enemy can strike at us through that same province?”
Poinsett watched the president’s face. He knew what they were saying in Congress. Calhoun, who had been Berrien’s most prominent defender, had been advocating more troops brought home to defend the South against further incursions and possible slave revolts. The news from Quai-Trudeau would only strengthen his position. Many Quids agreed with him. Not to mention the Northern Quids like Lewis Cass who were worried about losing the midterms after impeachment. And then there was the rest of the country, which was practically united in a single sentiment—it’s time to take our winnings and go.
“So be it,” said Berrien. “John”—he indicated Tyler—“you have my permission to go to London and negotiate. But let me be clear—I see this as a pause in the war, not an end. Keep the negotiations going, but don’t agree to anything final.”
In the 1830s, Missouri was already a complicated place of overlapping conflicts.
First, there was the conflict between the rising power of free labor and the declining but still considerable power of slavery. By law, no new slaves could be brought into the state, and any slave born in the state after 1820 would gain freedom at the age of 25. Wealthy slaveholders had successfully thwarted any anti-slavery legislation that would go beyond this, and often sold their slaves south, but the institution was being undermined in other ways.
The most important of these was paid work. Missouri was a growing state, with too much manual labor to do and not enough slaves to go around. St. Louis had grown from about 10,000 people in 1820 to about 36,000 in 1840[1]. Houses needed building, streets needed paving, and businesses needed staffing. Creating further demand for work was the state’s grand project, the future city of Elephantine on what was then Bird’s Point Island[2]. Just to make the site usable, let alone a great river-dominating metropolis, fifteen kilometers of levees needed to be built. German immigrants did much of this work, but they needed paying, and if none were available, slaves had to be hired and paid as well. And if a young slave wished to buy his or her freedom early rather than wait to gain it free of charge, slaveholders generally thought it best to allow it.
The state government was openly hostile to the free black community. State law not only forbade free black immigration to Missouri, but forbade black people from holding church services without (white) police present and forbade anyone, black or white, to provide education to black people. In 1831, Thomas Rankin (brother to John Rankin of the ’36 Populist/Libertarian ticket) had been arrested and ultimately convicted on charges of both presiding over an unpoliced Negro church service and educating black children. His case was working its way to the Supreme Court, where it would shake the nation.
But already there were ways around these prohibitions. In majority-black towns like Adamsville[3], Tallmadge[4], and Coffin Hill[5], such laws were unenforceable. In Columbia, Hannibal, and even Jefferson City[6] itself, visiting abolitionists would often stop to teach small gatherings of children in secret. And in St. Louis, the Meachums, John B. and Mary, owned a steamboat. John, a First African Baptist pastor, would take his parishioners out to the middle of the Mississippi River, where state laws no longer applied, and hold services there. He also took children onto the river and held lessons on board.
The Meachams also, of course, used this steamboat in Hidden Trail work, bringing escapees to Freedmansville or the labor-hungry factory town of Saukmills[7]. The attitude of Missourians to the Hidden Trail was mixed. Some, like the editors of the St. Louis Times, openly supported it. Some, like Rep. William Napton, denounced it. And then there were those who quietly welcomed the chance for runaways to find their way to a life of freedom and independence somewhere else.
In 1833, the Hiemal Period descended upon Missouri like a killing frost. New farms that were under mortgage and not yet profitable were seized by the banks. Established farms struggled to stay afloat in the face of falling prices. Would-be settlers just arriving found that no one would loan them money.
On the surface, the foreclosures affected whites more than they affected blacks, who for the most part had never been able to get loans in the first place and depended on their own networks for mutual aid. But those who were involved in any business beyond subsistence farming—such as John Meachum, who had earned his freedom as a carpenter—needed the white community as customers, and had little to fall back on without them.
Early in 1835, a new faction appeared.
Joseph Smith had been to this part of the country before. In 1832, he had gone by steamboat to St. Louis and up the Mississippi to Prairie du Chien and back, stopping to preach in Hannibal, Quincy, Keokuk, Doolittle[8], Farnhamburg[9], and Dubuque. Audiences were sometimes receptive, more often derisive, and in Farnhamburg and Prairie du Chien he was chased out by angry mobs.
But before Smith did any of this, he went up the Missouri to Westmarch[10] and back. On this leg of the journey, he did no preaching, and in fact did his best to remain anonymous. He had a different mission in central Missouri.
Much of Smith’s work thus far had been in upstate New York, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Michigan, but in all of those states his followers had been subject to hostility, and sometimes violence. Even where Cumorites were tolerated, they had to live and work among people who had lower standards of conduct and found their beliefs risible. His dream was of Zion, a “city on a hill”—a place where his followers could live apart, by their own rules, interacting with outsiders only on their own terms.
Such a place would not be completely isolated, of course—however self-sufficient the Cumorites tried to become, they would still need to trade with the larger United States. But it wouldn’t be on the Missouri River between Freedmansville and St. Louis, where the river was navigable by steamboat and was the avenue of choice for settlers going west. The upper valley of the Grand River, in northwestern Missouri, had good soil and relatively few settlers even before the foreclosures began, having had much of its best farmland bought up by speculators.
In 1833, Smith, Sidney Rigdon, Oliver Cowdery, and Orson Hyde began buying this land from speculators and banks. With land prices crashing, they were able to get good deals, and rapidly accelerated their purchases over the next two years as more and more land became available. Hundreds of Cumorites moved to the upper Grand River over the first two years, followed by thousands in ’35 and ’36. Their settlements stretched from Parson Creek to a field near the Kaw-Osage border which Smith named “Adam-Ondi-Ahman” and which, he said, was the place Adam and Eve had settled after being driven out of the Garden.
Near the eastern end of this region, the city of Nauvoo[11] (derived from the Hebrew word for “beautiful”) was planned from the beginning as close to Smith’s “Plat of Zion” as the terrain allowed, a town of widely-spaced homes surrounded by orchards and vegetable gardens. Although they had only begun to build the magnificent temple for which the city would become famous, the plan called for twenty-four temples at the heart of the city that would serve not only as churches but facilities for schools and municipal government. This was the first of many signs that the Cumorites did not intend to play by the normal rules. Governor Josiah Barton, who showed no resistance or hostility to the Cumorites in his public utterances, made the following observation in a September 1836 letter to his intended successor, Daniel Dunklin:
The majority of Christians in Missouri, as elsewhere in this land, are of course Protestants of various denominations; yet there are Catholic churches in many towns, and a synagogue of Jews in St. Louis, and the worshippers therein are welcome to take part in the civic life of this state. This is because our houses of worship are carefully set apart from our houses of government. We strive to do as our Lord bid, rendering unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s, and to do so at different times and via different institutions.
And this is true throughout the United States. Massachusetts was the last state to abandon its support for one church, and it did so four years ago.[12] But should these Cumorites grow to become the majority in Missouri, can we trust that they will do likewise?
Two months after Barton posed this question, the 1836 general election took place. In the presidential race, Missouri famously gave its electoral vote to the Populist-Liberation ticket by a narrow margin, the only state to do so. At the gubernatorial level, the Populist candidate was Robert Rantoul Jr., a recent arrival from Massachusetts whose youth (he was 31, one year older than the minimum age) and newness to the state may have undercut his campaign, as he received fewer votes than the Morton-Rankin ticket. In addition, the Reform candidate was Lilburn Boggs, who was far more hostile to the Cumorites than Barton had ever been. Thus, Tertium Quid John Bullock Clark won the election with 32% of the vote.
While this was happening, the town of Nauvoo and the county of Carroll[13] held their first municipal elections. Nauvoo mayor Harvey Olmstead[14] and two of the five council members, Seymour Brunson and William L. Neyman Jr.[15], were priests in what was known, by now, as the Church of Latter Day Saints. The problem was that according to Article III, section 13 of the state constitution Missouri adopted in 1820, “No person, while he continues to exercise the function of a bishop, priest, clergyman, or teacher of any religious persuasion, denomination, society or sect whatsoever, shall be eligible to either house of the general assembly; nor shall he be appointed to any office of profit within the state, the office of justice of the peace excepted.”[16] Just as Thomas Rankin had challenged the right of the state to stop him from preaching and teaching, Joseph Smith was now challenging its right to interfere in Cumorite self-government.
Even before incoming Governor Clark had been sworn in, he set about answering this challenge. Nauvoo was almost entirely Cumorite, and the few non-Cumorite residents who had standing to sue the mayor had no interest in doing so, but Carroll County was another matter. The suit Carroll County Christian Association v. Brunson et al. was brought in early 1837—and was immediately dismissed on the grounds that, as the office of county councilman was unpaid, it did not meet the definition of an office of profit.
One of the leading causes of tension and occasional violence in the east had been the rumors—not yet confirmed—that church officials engaged in polygamy despite the Book of Mormon’s own injunctions against the practice[17]. In Missouri, the tension had a different origin. Outsiders who happened to peruse the Book of Mormon found that the Second Book of Nephi explicitly said the Lord “denieth none that come unto him, black and white, bond and free, male and female.”[18] Yet the Church of Latter Day Saints at this time was no ally of abolitionism and did not at this time allow what Smith called “the lineage of Ham,” slave or free, into its fold. A few slaveholders had joined it, but most saw them as yet another new kind of northern idealist, while abolitionists dismissed them as hypocrites.
Then there were the loans that Cumorites received freely from the Miami Safety Society, a joint-stock company headquartered in Miami, Michigan which performed banking functions. Although (like many such quasi-banks) this would ultimately fail[19], in 1837 it seemed to give the Cumorite settlers exactly the sort of advantage that other settlers were pining for.
The War of 1837 interrupted this growing division as it interrupted almost everything else. The Church of Latter Day Saints organized two regiments of its own, one from the eastern states and one from Missouri…
Arthur J. Dent, The Central State: A History
“I confess I expected very little from this ‘Legion of Saints,’ as they called themselves. It had a little over a thousand men, few of whom had seen combat—and Col. Hyrum Smith, who commanded it, wasn’t one of those few. There was no uniformity of armament, and the ones with muskets couldn’t reload them in less than half a minute, which meant there was no hope of more than one volley per battle out of them. I could hardly send them home, so I made up my mind to use them as a reserve for the right wing, holding the high ground on the island (such as it was) between the two branches of the Rideau while the other reinforcements were positioned along the west branch…
“On the right wing, the artillery exhausted its ammunition thwarting charges down both branches of the Rideau[20], leaving not enough men to hold the hilltop. Seeing a Canadian regiment (which I was later informed was the Wolverines) advancing on the hilltop, I gave orders for the Legion to form column and advance into the line at that spot.
“They did not precisely form a column. They simply charged up the hill from the southeast, gained the summit like a miniature Mount Hope and poured their fire into the Wolverines from perhaps five meters away.
“Few things are more confusing and demoralizing than to be on the brink of an easy victory and suddenly find yourself fighting for your life. An army of career soldiers might take such a thing in stride, but the Canadians were the same sort of volunteers most of our men were, and quickly retreated out of range. The presence of the Cumorite regiment may have made the difference between victory and defeat at Sondergaard’s Mill.”
Memoirs of General W.K. Armistead
“At first glance, the Nauvoo Legion didn’t look like much of a regiment. It was less than a thousand men, mostly civilians with not much training, and Col. Sampson Avard reminded me too much of the late Gen. Harney, promising certain victories against the ‘fornicators and idolaters’ of Louisiana. But for the taking of Quai-Trudeau, I needed all the men I could get. I met them again after the battle ended, at the south end of the main road. They’d seen 191 men out of 965 killed or wounded, including Col. Avard.”
-Letter from Zachary Taylor
Before the establishment of the Capital Guard and its Presidential Division in 1843, there was no official body charged with the protection of the U.S. president. Presidents either had their own bodyguards or trusted in the efficacy of the Militia of the District of Columbia and (after 1821) the Washington City Police.
In 1838, President Berrien found this inadequate. During and after the impeachment, he was occasionally subjected to horse-dung or rotten vegetables hurled at his back by some offended citizen. And in practically every speech, then-Speaker of the House Webster accused the president of “Caesarism”—that is, of seeking to undermine the republic and render himself unaccountable to it. Webster insisted that he meant no physical threat, but as Berrien said to Rep. Calhoun, “Every schoolchild knows the fate of Julius Caesar.”
On August 6, Berrien wrote to Governor Gilmer of Georgia, requesting a squad of the militia be sent north to D.C. “for the protection of this office and household.” On September 10, the train from Danville carried far more than one squad. To the Georgia militia, Berrien was the man who had begun his career leading them to safety after an ambush in Florida, and whose leadership through the 1820s had turned the border units into a real fighting force. Whatever the rest of the nation might decide, they would never forsake him.
This proved yet another unpopular move on Berrien’s part. He assured Congress that the Georgia militia was comprised of “good honest yeomen,” to which Webster replied, “Yeomen indeed—in the British sense of the word.” Fairly or otherwise, the militia’s reputation in the rest of the country had been shaped by the unsuccessful campaigns in Florida, the utter failure at Attapulgus, and the wanton burning of Cherokee homes in northwest Georgia. Even to officials from other southern states, it seemed they were only of use against those who could not fight back. Although Berrien’s decision probably was not responsible for the Quids’ loss of 39 seats to DRs and Reformists in the midterm election, it served mainly to increase tension in the capital…
Charles Cerniglia, Ex Nihil Urbem: A History of Washington, D.C.
[1] As IOTL. It grew a little faster relative to OTL after the canals were finished, but slowed down again when the economy went south.
[2] South of Cairo, IL. The reason it’s called Elephantine is that the ancient Egyptian city of Elephantine was on an island in the Nile, plus they plan on it being, well, elephantine in size. The reason it’s “what was then Bird’s Point Island” is that the channel between it and mainland Missouri will fill in with silt, as it did IOTL. (If you’re thinking this sounds like a very bad place to put a city, you’re right.)
[3] OTL Brookfield, MO
[4] OTL Clinton, MO
[5] OTL Cedar Hill, MO. Named after Levi Coffin.
[6] The state capital, but not OTL’s Jefferson City—further east, where Chamois, MO is IOTL.
[7] OTL Moline, IL
[8] Burlington, IA
[9] OTL Rock Island, IA
[10] OTL but obviously not TTL Wellington, MO. On the western border of TTL’s Missouri.
[11] OTL Chillicothe, MO. The not-very-healthy site of OTL’s Nauvoo is a small free black community called Quashquema, Illinois, which earns a precarious living by portaging boats past the rapids when the river is low, but has a malaria problem.
[12] This happened in 1833 IOTL.
[13] OTL’s Carroll County, MO, but at this point it encompasses a lot of land to the north, including the Cumorite settlements.
[14] The first mayor of OTL’s Nauvoo was John C. Bennett, who I simply have to come up with an interesting role for. He seems to have been a brilliant man capable of doing absolutely anything he put his mind to, with one exception—staying out of trouble.
[15] IOTL they both died of malaria. It really was an unhealthy site until they drained it.
[16] Source
[17] A lot of this is based on Benjamin E. Park’s Kingdom of Nauvoo: The Rise and Fall of a Religious Empire on the American Frontier. Park theorizes that polygamy really began among the Mormons in 1840. For the record, there are anti-polygamy passages in the Book of Mormon, and the Doctrines and Covenants, which are more supportive of it, hadn’t been written yet IOTL or ITTL.
[18] 2 Nephi 26:33
[19] At this point IOTL the church had tried twice to set up something similar. Both times were failures. ITTL, the worse economy meant that it took a lot longer even to get such an institution off the ground.
[20] Which at this point were frozen deep enough that they were basically highways.
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Love the update!
As a member of the LDS church; I always have a soft spot for timelines who actually study the history and doctrine of the Church. Your version of Mormonism for this Timeline feels authentic because you took the time to actually study the historical accounts of OTL. Very well done!
Oh. and I love the update!😁
As a member of the LDS church; I always have a soft spot for timelines who actually study the history and doctrine of the Church. Your version of Mormonism for this Timeline feels authentic because you took the time to actually study the historical accounts of OTL. Very well done!
Oh. and I love the update!😁
A thousand diamonds of praise !
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PS. Please don't count
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PS. Please don't count