Interlude II
Washington, January 30th, 1862
“Please be seated gentlemen.” President Lincoln said jovially to the two men who had come into his office. His private secretary, John Nicolay, closed the door behind them. There were only two other men in the room besides Lincoln and his guests, Secretary of the Treasury Salmon P. Chase, and assistant to the Secretary of the Interior, John P. Usher.
The two men quickly seated themselves in the cramped confines of the office. The first man was a well-dressed businessman, broad shouldered and with a thick beard and a balding head but a look of pure business. The second man was dressed in the blue of the Union Navy with the markings of a commander. He was shorter than the other man with a weathered face and an impressive moustache not quite connected to his mutton chops. Both had graying hair, but each seemed firm in their demeanor.
The businessman was Henry du Pont, head of the Dupont Powder Company, and his naval companion was Commodore John A. Dahlgren, current commander of the Washington Navy Yard. Lincoln seated himself behind his chair and regarded the two visitors.
“Mr. DuPont,” Lincoln said smiling, “I understand your cousin serves as a flag officer in our navy?” he asked his distinguished guest.
“Indeed that is true sir.” The businessman replied.
“The climate here in Washington is treating you well John?” Lincoln asked the naval officer.
“The winter could be milder but it is passing fair.” The naval officer said courteously. Lincoln settled back in his chair and offered each man a beverage, Du Pont accepted some hot tea while the naval officer abstained all drinks. Lincoln himself picked up a mug and took a deep draught before returning to the conversation[1].
“Now then, I understand you have come to me with a grave matter regarding the war effort.” He said looking at each man in turn. Du Pont spoke for the both of them it seemed as he addressed the president.
“Yes Mr. President, we do. I assume you are aware of the figures at which we have been importing foreign arms and ammunition throughout the last year?”
“I am passing familiar.” The president replied.
“Then you will understand it is critical I inform you of the sudden change in the Union’s fortunes on this matter. You are no doubt aware sir that on the twenty-eighth of November last year the government of Great Britain endeavored to block all sales of arms and ammunition to us when the crisis began back in early November. France followed suit a few weeks later. What you may not be aware of sir is that those two nations combined sold us almost nine out of ten imported arms which we purchased.”
“I am aware of a great quantity of arms bought from foreign armories and manufactories, but I’m not quite sure I grasp your meaning.”
“Mr. President,” Dahlgren said cutting into the conversation “the national arms industry as it stands currently is not up to the task of completely arming the forces of the Republic. The Springfield Armory is barely producing rifles in their thousands, and we imported rifles in their tens of thousands from England and France, not to mention from powers such as Austria and Prussia. Other armories have not done half as well, managing only to churn out rifles and artillery in their hundreds.”
“As it stands we are not up to the challenge of completely arming our own forces with modern weaponry. DuPont and myself have compared the number of weapons imported from April until the embargo and we have discovered that the numbers are sufficient for arming our own forces, with some 670,000 rifles and muskets of all types at hand. However, perhaps half of these items are simple muskets which are in need of rifling, and there are only some 11,000 carbines in the entirety of the Union[2].”
Lincoln seemed to think on these numbers for a moment, and all that was heard was the scratching of Nicolay’s pen. He looked at the two men.
“I assume there is more to tell?” He asked.
“I am afraid that is exactly why we are here Mr. President.” DuPont said. “There is a grievous matter which neither the Ordnance Board nor the Army is aware of, and only Dahlgren and myself were first aware of the problem before we reported it to Secretary Welles in early January.”
You see sir, the Union is facing a powder crisis. The war has been more violent than expected, and has lasted far longer than anyone could have predicted. At the start of the conflict with so few men in the field we did not anticipate many problems, as we amply provided for the Mexican War and our stocks and capabilities had expanded since then. Now though, the army expands at an unprecedented rate, growing into the hundreds of thousands. The Navy also continues to expand. Dahlgren only became aware of the matter in early November as we began equipping more ships, I myself discovered the problem around roughly the same time when we discovered the demand for powder was eating into our stocks faster than my mills could fill them.
It was with this in mind I set out for England in November where I managed to negotiate the purchase of 2300 tons of nitre[3] to be used in my mills. However, the British government passed a suspension on the supply of nitre to us after the Trent Crisis began, worsened by the incident between warships. Though I again travelled to Britain in an attempt to negotiate with the businessmen of London there, I was refused the purchase of the nitre. With this grievous news I returned here to the States to attempt to find a solution to my mills problems.”
“A question gentleman.” Lincoln said interrupting. “Why is it that you must look to England to procure such large amounts of nitre for powder?”
“Britain rules India, which by quirk of fate is uniquely displaced for the mass production of nitre. The denizens of those far off kingdoms regard the cow as a sacred animal, and as such it is allowed to wander where it pleases. The manure is rich in nitre which when fermented can be made into the suitable base chemicals for the production of gunpowder. As such the continent swims with the basic raw materials, giving Britain an unprecedented advantage in its production. One which other nations can only dream of.” DuPont said.
“How much nitre do we have, roughly, on hand?” Lincoln asked with some concern. DuPont pulled a sheet from his briefcase and examined it.
“Based on the rough estimation of the amount imported pre-December, and the stocks in Union hands, we have roughly some 1700 tons of power on hand, with the stock of nitre in place to make up to 3300 tons. Or roughly 7,400,000 pounds of powder within our own stocks.”
“That number doesn’t seem so bad.” Lincoln said.
“The army expends roughly 450,000 pounds of powder in a month sir.” Usher said speaking up. “That has been since the war began. I don’t think we have spent that much over the winter, but it seems as though when the campaigning season begins we will be expending just as much, if not more.”
“A continued embargo could cripple the war effort.” Dahlgren interjected nodding.
“With the amount on hand I predict it would be enough for major operations against the Confederacy along, but with an expanding navy and army, and fighting potentially Britain and France? Without immediate action there will not be enough powder to fight any war sir.” DuPont said.
Silence filled the room at this proclamation. Lincoln had never pretended to be a military man, indeed his only service in the militia had been for a few months in the Blackhawk War and he had seen no combat. However, his reading had prepared him for the basic ideas of logistics and supply, an army did march on its stomach, he had read. However he made no move to pretend he understood the complex chemical and manufacturing processes which governed his armies supply of gunpowder. He steepled his fingers in front of him.
“Am I to presume that there is no way to rectify the difficulties which we face in this matter?” He asked. At this question DuPont’s response brightened significantly.
“No sir, you may not.” He said gleefully retrieving another file from his briefcase. He held the new paper almost reverently before continuing. “Since Britain holds a monopoly on the trade of vast quantities of nitre, most nations have adopted ways of developing their own small nitre manufacturing capabilities. The two most inexpensive and by far the most successful which I have come across are the Swiss and Prussian methods. Of the two the Prussian method is best tailored for the climate of the East Coast and Mid West, which means that we could, with immediate work, establish beds for our own needs.”
“What do these beds entail, and what would the cost be?” A suddenly suspicious Chase asked imagining a nightmare of factory workers and chemists repossessing farmers’ fields to cultivate powder.
“To be blunt Mr. Secretary, manure, and lots of it. The nitre beds are simply the collection of waste, preferably bovine or equine, into beds which are then allowed to ferment for a period of time. We would merely need to set aside land for the collection of said materials and men to process them.” DuPont said.
“Then it seems as though we should at once lay aside a great field beneath Congress, I have no doubt the supply there could equip the entire Army of the Potomac.” Lincoln said smiling. His guests all chuckled, and Nicolay dutifully copied the quip onto a second piece of paper rather than into the official record.
“Would there need to be much land set aside?” Usher asked.
“Not a great amount, merely areas for the collection of manure. You could simply order stables to stockpile the excess for government collection teams. However, I must caution you gentlemen, my company and I will need to preform tests on the quality of the nitre collected before we can begin mass production. Should we begin experimentation now I can guarantee that mass production could begin in the next year.” DuPont replied.
“Mr. DuPont and I are in full agreement on this issue.” Dahlgren cut in “There would be nothing worse for our own men than to be supplied with inferior nitre which would be of more danger to them than to the enemy.”
There were nods all around. No one enjoyed the thought of exploding cannons riddling their own ranks with shrapnel. Lincoln cleared his throat.
“Mr. DuPont, how long would you estimate that such production would take to replace our reliance on foreign powder?” He asked.
“Replace Mr. President? I’m afraid we simply don’t have the industry available or desirable to replace the foreign import of high quality of nitre. However, given uninterrupted testing and good results, I can confidently predict that we can have our beds fully producing nitre of good quality by next April 1863.”
“That seems like an awfully long time.” Chase cut in. DuPont nodded.
“My calculations are based firmly off those done by Prussian chemists, who are far superior in this field than I. If our climate were warmer, closer to that of South Carolina or Florida, I could happily shave two months off of that time with ease, but we do not have such blessings of climate.[4]”
“I should prefer the lack of mosquitos and malaria to the warmer climate, powder be damned.” Lincoln replied to Chase. The mood lightened considerably at the quip. “Now I am prepared to grant you gentleman all the authority you might need in this endeavour. Should anyone try to hassle you proclaim you have the power of the Federal Government behind you, that should settle them down. I would ask you begin your work as soon as time allows. Thank you very much for bringing this to my attention.” He smiled and rose to shake each mans’ hand and Nicolay showed them out. There was a clamor in the hall as the door opened and petitioners attempted to appraise the president of their need. A beleaguered looking John Hay looked to the president.
“I will require perhaps fifteen minutes to confer with my secretaries.” He said. With a heavy sigh Hay nodded and firmly grasped an enterprising petitioner by the arm and removed him from the office door. The door slammed shut a moment later, cutting off the majority of the hubbub.
Lincoln sighed heavily and seated himself behind the desk. He turned to Chase.
“Well bank master, what of our ability to finance this lofty project?” Chase grimaced at the thought of putting thousands of Federal dollars towards the collection of manure but swallowed his distaste and spoke up.
“Financially the markets have stabilized, for now. Though bond sales have reached an all time low, I haven’t had word from my agents in Hamburg or Vienna, but in London and Paris we can’t find any buyers. Support there has all but dried up as the crisis has deepened. Here at home I expect the matter to be worse now that news of Lyons departure will have spread, already sales in New York have evaporated. There haven’t been bonds bought in Baltimore since December and I can’t espouse any enthusiasm for the Mid West, the markets have reacted as though war were a certainty, and I can certainly imagine they will be worse for our foreign sales.”
“It can’t be all gloomy. We still have friends abroad, and supporters at home.” Lincoln said.
“Yes it is true, but we will find few in England willing to bet against their own government.” Chase said gloomily. He paused and reached into his coat and pulled out a much folded telegram. “I do have some good news however, an old acquaintance telegraphed to the Treasury Department a few days ago, and he gave us a risky idea, but one which just might work.”
“If we are already down to sifting through manure to arm our soldiers, what constitutes a risky idea is up for debate.” Lincoln replied with a grin. Chase chuckled as he read out the telegraph.
“An old associate, one Edmund Taylor, telegraphed me with a proposition to solve some of our money problems. He’s currently out seeking to establish an arms factory in Illinois to supply the Western war effort. His proposition is simple though, he suggests we issue some form of fiat currency, basically just to print money asking us to ‘just get Congress to pass a bill authorizing the printing of full legal tender treasury notes. Pay for goods with them and pay your soldiers with them and go ahead and win your war with them also. If you make them full legal tender they will have the full sanction of the government and be just as good as any money; as Congress is given the express right by the Constitution.’ And he is right there.”
“Would this money be redeemable in gold?” Lincoln asked curiously.
“Technically yes, but since banks have mostly voted to suspend specie payments, I have serious doubts whether we could actually authorize such a redeeming. I’m not even sure we have the necessary quantity of hard currency on hand to do so.” Chase said cautiously.
“Is that such a good idea then?” Lincoln asked furrowing his brow, “Unbacked money? The people could revolt at being issued worthless paper.”
“The money would be in effect, backed purely by the power of the Federal Government, that will mean something to people.” Chase said “We don’t have an abundance of options however. With English or French loans no longer an option we can’t afford to lean heavily on foreign investments, nor can we count purely on the strength of gold since the costs continue to climb. This may be our best option.” Lincoln ruminated on this for a moment before giving an uneasy shrug.
“We can discuss it in full at the next cabinet meeting. In the meantime look up how much money we would need to print. I’ll hope to hear from some bankers on the matter at some point, but it is as good an idea as any.” He sighed “Now if you will excuse me, the mob is howling at my door.”
The Admiralty House, Halifax Nova Scotia
Admiralty House, Halifax, Nova Scotia, January 29th 1862
The great windows of the Admiralty House faced almost the wrong way from the dining room. They overlooked a poor view of the city from its lofty hill top perch looking onto Ontario Street[5], but one could not see out onto the Narrows and Halifax Harbor, which is what any proper admiral would want to see. From the upper floors though one could look out and see the vast forest of masts which had sprung up in the harbor over winter. More importantly one could see the large and imposing black ships with white lines painted across their gun ports. Each proudly flew the white ensign of the Royal Navy, much like the Union Jack flew proudly over the grounds of the Admiralty House.
The dining room though was warm and well lit. A roaring fire was crackling in the hearth and the chandelier had every candle lit, alongside the wall mounted lanterns it was as good as daylight inside. Seated around the table, resplendent in blue and scarlet uniforms, were some of the senior captains of the North Atlantic and West Indies Squadron, invited to dine by their commander. They ate a splendid meal of roast beef, carrot stew, and fine French pudding for desert. The admiral had even graciously opened a bottle of wine sent to him by the commander of the French post at Martinique.
Rear Admiral Sir Alexander Milne sat at the head of the table, his second glass of wine at his elbow. Bedecked in the uniform of his rank with blue and scarlet he was in a jovial mood. The dinner had been excellent thanks to his chef, and his company were all in good spirits. To his left sat his first Lieutenant, Basil Hall, who was here to ensure if any official business came up Milne would have someone he could count on to respond diligently. On his right was his honored guest of the evening Captain George Hancock, of the frigate Immortalité. Next to him sat Captain Edward Westby Vansittart, Captain of the 4th rate screw frigate Octavia. Beside Hall was Commander William Hobson of the gunvessel Osprey. Finally beside Vansittart was Captain George P. Mends of the battleship Edgar.
They were all being regaled with some of Vansittart’s tales from his time in the China station.
“And so how many junks was it you destroyed again?” Mends asked genially “50?”
“Heavens no!” Vansittart said roaring with laughter. “Can’t have been more than 30, the damn papers would have you believe I sank half the pitiful fleet of the Chinese emperor!”
“Probably on account of your miraculous deeds in rescuing those poor English ladies!” Hancock said taking a sip of wine.
“Yes I certainly did cut a dashing figure coming ashore as the pirate fortress burned around us and the marines put the last of the scum to death. Can’t say I can think of a prouder day escorting those women out while we hung the last of the scum from the walls.”
“Serves the yellow bastards right daring to prey on good white women.” Hobson said cutting in to the story at an appropriate place to congratulate his superior. There was a hearty cry of ‘here here’ and the men raised their glasses in a toast. Taking long draughts of wine Hancock turned to the admiral.
“Surely sir you must have some good stories of the Russian War?” He said cocking his head. Milne let out a chuckle.
“Unless you count fighting an unending battle against unscrupulous merchants and war profiteers no, I fear you are mistaken. I was merely organizing the transports that took our soldiers and supplies to the front.”
“And you did a damn fine job if I may say so sir. Supplies were about the only thing well managed in that war as I’ve heard it.” Mends said.
“I thank you captain, but pray hope that our friends in the army are more organized today than they were facing the Russians. They may not be overly impressive on the battlefield but there are as many of them as there were Russians, and far fewer good British men.” Milne said. There was some laughing and men raised glasses to the army and Doyle.
There came a sudden knock on the door and Milne’s valet answered it with the strictly polite face a valet was expected to do such a thing, rather than the annoyance he felt at being disturbed at such a late hour. As the door opened a nervous ensign stood there, his face still red from the cold. In his hand he held a telegram. The valet raised an eyebrow at the intrusion.
“For the Admiral, from Lord Lyons.” The valet immediately ushered him inside. The ensign gingerly crossed the floor of the room very aware of the copious display of gold braid around him. He came to the Admirals chair and handed it to him. The mirth on Milne’s face died as he read the contents of the telegram. His guests fell silent as well and regarded the admiral as he slowly took a sip of his wine.
“It is war gentlemen.” He said slowly[6]. A sudden sobriety descended across the guests as they took in the sudden severity of the situation. Hall grimaced slightly.
“Well then we’ll damn well whip the Yankee fleet.” Vansittart said angrily. “The fools in Washington have rejected Palmerstons’ demands?”
“It is indeed so.” Milne said. “Hall, go to my office and fetch the orders.” He said turning to the young lieutenant. The man bowed and hurried out of the room, returning a moment later with an envelope, its seal already broken once. Milne unfolded the letter and put it down on the table.
“Now gentlemen, I’ve ordered all my captains to be on alert, and of all the 63 ships of my squadron to be ready and not a one of you has failed in that duty. We are well supplied with fine Welsh coal for our ships, and we do not lack for ammunition or men. What I have here are conditional orders issued by the First Lord of the Admiralty and the government to act if our governments demands are not met.”
“You mean we are to go to war now!?” Hobson exclaimed incredulously. Milne shook his head.
“No, but very soon. We have only a narrow window of opportunity to strike when we can catch the American navy off guard and unsuspecting, hence the reason for sending so many ships to Commodore Dunlop at Veracruz. Unless any of you really thought five battleships was necessary to chastise the Mexican government?” He said with a raised eyebrow. There were a few chuckles around the table and Milne grinned at them. “No gentlemen, we are to break the Union blockade and drive their Navy to port before it can be dispatched to raid our merchantmen around the world.”
“This is a difficult season for a major campaign at sea.” Hancock said cautiously. Milne grimaced and nodded in agreement.
“Indeed it is, but we must act soon. My squadron is still scattered and I have less than what I hoped for when I began planning on laying a blockade. We shall have to act without Dacres substantial force as well. For now at least.”
“There is much work to be done then.” Vansittart said.
“Indeed there is gentlemen, and precious little time to do it.” Milne cleared his throat. “I regret to inform you that I must cut our after dinner conversation short, I have much to attend to and will need to rouse your fellow officers for a council of war tomorrow. For now I must bid you good night.” He scrapped back his chair.
“But first a toast!” he said filling his glass and allowing the others to do the same. “I toast to all the fine men of the Royal Navy who will soon be risking their lives at sea and all their officers. God be with them, God save the Queen and St. George for England!” Milne said raising his glass.
“God save the Queen and St. George for England!” The officers called back raising their own glasses.
As the officers all filed out and bid the Admiral a good night he sighed and turned to look at the young lieutenant. “I fear that there shall be little sleep for you and I tonight Hall. I simply hope the men sleep soundly not yet knowing what awaits in the morning.”
----
[1] The amount of pleasantries which could be exchanged in a conversation is absurd really. I'm attempting to cut down on some.
[2] These numbers are based off roughly what was imported to the Union from summer to November 1861 and the roughly 470,000 muskets/rifles in Union hands at the start of the war. The carbine number is similar. Now this is an estimate, so the number may be slightly off, but I caution the number of rifles available to the Union in January 1862 would definitely be no higher than 700,000 or so, especially here with the cessation of French arms shipments.
[3] Or roughly 5,100,000 pounds.
[4] Thanks to the brilliant South Carolina chemist Joseph Leconte for this.
[5] Though distance wise it’s not too far from the Navy Yard no one ever called the view excellent.
[6] He is of course reading the previously mentioned Antigua message which was a coded message to be sent by Lyons to declare hostilities had broken out.
Washington, January 30th, 1862
“Please be seated gentlemen.” President Lincoln said jovially to the two men who had come into his office. His private secretary, John Nicolay, closed the door behind them. There were only two other men in the room besides Lincoln and his guests, Secretary of the Treasury Salmon P. Chase, and assistant to the Secretary of the Interior, John P. Usher.
The two men quickly seated themselves in the cramped confines of the office. The first man was a well-dressed businessman, broad shouldered and with a thick beard and a balding head but a look of pure business. The second man was dressed in the blue of the Union Navy with the markings of a commander. He was shorter than the other man with a weathered face and an impressive moustache not quite connected to his mutton chops. Both had graying hair, but each seemed firm in their demeanor.
The businessman was Henry du Pont, head of the Dupont Powder Company, and his naval companion was Commodore John A. Dahlgren, current commander of the Washington Navy Yard. Lincoln seated himself behind his chair and regarded the two visitors.
“Mr. DuPont,” Lincoln said smiling, “I understand your cousin serves as a flag officer in our navy?” he asked his distinguished guest.
“Indeed that is true sir.” The businessman replied.
“The climate here in Washington is treating you well John?” Lincoln asked the naval officer.
“The winter could be milder but it is passing fair.” The naval officer said courteously. Lincoln settled back in his chair and offered each man a beverage, Du Pont accepted some hot tea while the naval officer abstained all drinks. Lincoln himself picked up a mug and took a deep draught before returning to the conversation[1].
“Now then, I understand you have come to me with a grave matter regarding the war effort.” He said looking at each man in turn. Du Pont spoke for the both of them it seemed as he addressed the president.
“Yes Mr. President, we do. I assume you are aware of the figures at which we have been importing foreign arms and ammunition throughout the last year?”
“I am passing familiar.” The president replied.
“Then you will understand it is critical I inform you of the sudden change in the Union’s fortunes on this matter. You are no doubt aware sir that on the twenty-eighth of November last year the government of Great Britain endeavored to block all sales of arms and ammunition to us when the crisis began back in early November. France followed suit a few weeks later. What you may not be aware of sir is that those two nations combined sold us almost nine out of ten imported arms which we purchased.”
“I am aware of a great quantity of arms bought from foreign armories and manufactories, but I’m not quite sure I grasp your meaning.”
“Mr. President,” Dahlgren said cutting into the conversation “the national arms industry as it stands currently is not up to the task of completely arming the forces of the Republic. The Springfield Armory is barely producing rifles in their thousands, and we imported rifles in their tens of thousands from England and France, not to mention from powers such as Austria and Prussia. Other armories have not done half as well, managing only to churn out rifles and artillery in their hundreds.”
“As it stands we are not up to the challenge of completely arming our own forces with modern weaponry. DuPont and myself have compared the number of weapons imported from April until the embargo and we have discovered that the numbers are sufficient for arming our own forces, with some 670,000 rifles and muskets of all types at hand. However, perhaps half of these items are simple muskets which are in need of rifling, and there are only some 11,000 carbines in the entirety of the Union[2].”
Lincoln seemed to think on these numbers for a moment, and all that was heard was the scratching of Nicolay’s pen. He looked at the two men.
“I assume there is more to tell?” He asked.
“I am afraid that is exactly why we are here Mr. President.” DuPont said. “There is a grievous matter which neither the Ordnance Board nor the Army is aware of, and only Dahlgren and myself were first aware of the problem before we reported it to Secretary Welles in early January.”
You see sir, the Union is facing a powder crisis. The war has been more violent than expected, and has lasted far longer than anyone could have predicted. At the start of the conflict with so few men in the field we did not anticipate many problems, as we amply provided for the Mexican War and our stocks and capabilities had expanded since then. Now though, the army expands at an unprecedented rate, growing into the hundreds of thousands. The Navy also continues to expand. Dahlgren only became aware of the matter in early November as we began equipping more ships, I myself discovered the problem around roughly the same time when we discovered the demand for powder was eating into our stocks faster than my mills could fill them.
It was with this in mind I set out for England in November where I managed to negotiate the purchase of 2300 tons of nitre[3] to be used in my mills. However, the British government passed a suspension on the supply of nitre to us after the Trent Crisis began, worsened by the incident between warships. Though I again travelled to Britain in an attempt to negotiate with the businessmen of London there, I was refused the purchase of the nitre. With this grievous news I returned here to the States to attempt to find a solution to my mills problems.”
“A question gentleman.” Lincoln said interrupting. “Why is it that you must look to England to procure such large amounts of nitre for powder?”
“Britain rules India, which by quirk of fate is uniquely displaced for the mass production of nitre. The denizens of those far off kingdoms regard the cow as a sacred animal, and as such it is allowed to wander where it pleases. The manure is rich in nitre which when fermented can be made into the suitable base chemicals for the production of gunpowder. As such the continent swims with the basic raw materials, giving Britain an unprecedented advantage in its production. One which other nations can only dream of.” DuPont said.
“How much nitre do we have, roughly, on hand?” Lincoln asked with some concern. DuPont pulled a sheet from his briefcase and examined it.
“Based on the rough estimation of the amount imported pre-December, and the stocks in Union hands, we have roughly some 1700 tons of power on hand, with the stock of nitre in place to make up to 3300 tons. Or roughly 7,400,000 pounds of powder within our own stocks.”
“That number doesn’t seem so bad.” Lincoln said.
“The army expends roughly 450,000 pounds of powder in a month sir.” Usher said speaking up. “That has been since the war began. I don’t think we have spent that much over the winter, but it seems as though when the campaigning season begins we will be expending just as much, if not more.”
“A continued embargo could cripple the war effort.” Dahlgren interjected nodding.
“With the amount on hand I predict it would be enough for major operations against the Confederacy along, but with an expanding navy and army, and fighting potentially Britain and France? Without immediate action there will not be enough powder to fight any war sir.” DuPont said.
Silence filled the room at this proclamation. Lincoln had never pretended to be a military man, indeed his only service in the militia had been for a few months in the Blackhawk War and he had seen no combat. However, his reading had prepared him for the basic ideas of logistics and supply, an army did march on its stomach, he had read. However he made no move to pretend he understood the complex chemical and manufacturing processes which governed his armies supply of gunpowder. He steepled his fingers in front of him.
“Am I to presume that there is no way to rectify the difficulties which we face in this matter?” He asked. At this question DuPont’s response brightened significantly.
“No sir, you may not.” He said gleefully retrieving another file from his briefcase. He held the new paper almost reverently before continuing. “Since Britain holds a monopoly on the trade of vast quantities of nitre, most nations have adopted ways of developing their own small nitre manufacturing capabilities. The two most inexpensive and by far the most successful which I have come across are the Swiss and Prussian methods. Of the two the Prussian method is best tailored for the climate of the East Coast and Mid West, which means that we could, with immediate work, establish beds for our own needs.”
“What do these beds entail, and what would the cost be?” A suddenly suspicious Chase asked imagining a nightmare of factory workers and chemists repossessing farmers’ fields to cultivate powder.
“To be blunt Mr. Secretary, manure, and lots of it. The nitre beds are simply the collection of waste, preferably bovine or equine, into beds which are then allowed to ferment for a period of time. We would merely need to set aside land for the collection of said materials and men to process them.” DuPont said.
“Then it seems as though we should at once lay aside a great field beneath Congress, I have no doubt the supply there could equip the entire Army of the Potomac.” Lincoln said smiling. His guests all chuckled, and Nicolay dutifully copied the quip onto a second piece of paper rather than into the official record.
“Would there need to be much land set aside?” Usher asked.
“Not a great amount, merely areas for the collection of manure. You could simply order stables to stockpile the excess for government collection teams. However, I must caution you gentlemen, my company and I will need to preform tests on the quality of the nitre collected before we can begin mass production. Should we begin experimentation now I can guarantee that mass production could begin in the next year.” DuPont replied.
“Mr. DuPont and I are in full agreement on this issue.” Dahlgren cut in “There would be nothing worse for our own men than to be supplied with inferior nitre which would be of more danger to them than to the enemy.”
There were nods all around. No one enjoyed the thought of exploding cannons riddling their own ranks with shrapnel. Lincoln cleared his throat.
“Mr. DuPont, how long would you estimate that such production would take to replace our reliance on foreign powder?” He asked.
“Replace Mr. President? I’m afraid we simply don’t have the industry available or desirable to replace the foreign import of high quality of nitre. However, given uninterrupted testing and good results, I can confidently predict that we can have our beds fully producing nitre of good quality by next April 1863.”
“That seems like an awfully long time.” Chase cut in. DuPont nodded.
“My calculations are based firmly off those done by Prussian chemists, who are far superior in this field than I. If our climate were warmer, closer to that of South Carolina or Florida, I could happily shave two months off of that time with ease, but we do not have such blessings of climate.[4]”
“I should prefer the lack of mosquitos and malaria to the warmer climate, powder be damned.” Lincoln replied to Chase. The mood lightened considerably at the quip. “Now I am prepared to grant you gentleman all the authority you might need in this endeavour. Should anyone try to hassle you proclaim you have the power of the Federal Government behind you, that should settle them down. I would ask you begin your work as soon as time allows. Thank you very much for bringing this to my attention.” He smiled and rose to shake each mans’ hand and Nicolay showed them out. There was a clamor in the hall as the door opened and petitioners attempted to appraise the president of their need. A beleaguered looking John Hay looked to the president.
“I will require perhaps fifteen minutes to confer with my secretaries.” He said. With a heavy sigh Hay nodded and firmly grasped an enterprising petitioner by the arm and removed him from the office door. The door slammed shut a moment later, cutting off the majority of the hubbub.
Lincoln sighed heavily and seated himself behind the desk. He turned to Chase.
“Well bank master, what of our ability to finance this lofty project?” Chase grimaced at the thought of putting thousands of Federal dollars towards the collection of manure but swallowed his distaste and spoke up.
“Financially the markets have stabilized, for now. Though bond sales have reached an all time low, I haven’t had word from my agents in Hamburg or Vienna, but in London and Paris we can’t find any buyers. Support there has all but dried up as the crisis has deepened. Here at home I expect the matter to be worse now that news of Lyons departure will have spread, already sales in New York have evaporated. There haven’t been bonds bought in Baltimore since December and I can’t espouse any enthusiasm for the Mid West, the markets have reacted as though war were a certainty, and I can certainly imagine they will be worse for our foreign sales.”
“It can’t be all gloomy. We still have friends abroad, and supporters at home.” Lincoln said.
“Yes it is true, but we will find few in England willing to bet against their own government.” Chase said gloomily. He paused and reached into his coat and pulled out a much folded telegram. “I do have some good news however, an old acquaintance telegraphed to the Treasury Department a few days ago, and he gave us a risky idea, but one which just might work.”
“If we are already down to sifting through manure to arm our soldiers, what constitutes a risky idea is up for debate.” Lincoln replied with a grin. Chase chuckled as he read out the telegraph.
“An old associate, one Edmund Taylor, telegraphed me with a proposition to solve some of our money problems. He’s currently out seeking to establish an arms factory in Illinois to supply the Western war effort. His proposition is simple though, he suggests we issue some form of fiat currency, basically just to print money asking us to ‘just get Congress to pass a bill authorizing the printing of full legal tender treasury notes. Pay for goods with them and pay your soldiers with them and go ahead and win your war with them also. If you make them full legal tender they will have the full sanction of the government and be just as good as any money; as Congress is given the express right by the Constitution.’ And he is right there.”
“Would this money be redeemable in gold?” Lincoln asked curiously.
“Technically yes, but since banks have mostly voted to suspend specie payments, I have serious doubts whether we could actually authorize such a redeeming. I’m not even sure we have the necessary quantity of hard currency on hand to do so.” Chase said cautiously.
“Is that such a good idea then?” Lincoln asked furrowing his brow, “Unbacked money? The people could revolt at being issued worthless paper.”
“The money would be in effect, backed purely by the power of the Federal Government, that will mean something to people.” Chase said “We don’t have an abundance of options however. With English or French loans no longer an option we can’t afford to lean heavily on foreign investments, nor can we count purely on the strength of gold since the costs continue to climb. This may be our best option.” Lincoln ruminated on this for a moment before giving an uneasy shrug.
“We can discuss it in full at the next cabinet meeting. In the meantime look up how much money we would need to print. I’ll hope to hear from some bankers on the matter at some point, but it is as good an idea as any.” He sighed “Now if you will excuse me, the mob is howling at my door.”
The Admiralty House, Halifax Nova Scotia
Admiralty House, Halifax, Nova Scotia, January 29th 1862
The great windows of the Admiralty House faced almost the wrong way from the dining room. They overlooked a poor view of the city from its lofty hill top perch looking onto Ontario Street[5], but one could not see out onto the Narrows and Halifax Harbor, which is what any proper admiral would want to see. From the upper floors though one could look out and see the vast forest of masts which had sprung up in the harbor over winter. More importantly one could see the large and imposing black ships with white lines painted across their gun ports. Each proudly flew the white ensign of the Royal Navy, much like the Union Jack flew proudly over the grounds of the Admiralty House.
The dining room though was warm and well lit. A roaring fire was crackling in the hearth and the chandelier had every candle lit, alongside the wall mounted lanterns it was as good as daylight inside. Seated around the table, resplendent in blue and scarlet uniforms, were some of the senior captains of the North Atlantic and West Indies Squadron, invited to dine by their commander. They ate a splendid meal of roast beef, carrot stew, and fine French pudding for desert. The admiral had even graciously opened a bottle of wine sent to him by the commander of the French post at Martinique.
Rear Admiral Sir Alexander Milne sat at the head of the table, his second glass of wine at his elbow. Bedecked in the uniform of his rank with blue and scarlet he was in a jovial mood. The dinner had been excellent thanks to his chef, and his company were all in good spirits. To his left sat his first Lieutenant, Basil Hall, who was here to ensure if any official business came up Milne would have someone he could count on to respond diligently. On his right was his honored guest of the evening Captain George Hancock, of the frigate Immortalité. Next to him sat Captain Edward Westby Vansittart, Captain of the 4th rate screw frigate Octavia. Beside Hall was Commander William Hobson of the gunvessel Osprey. Finally beside Vansittart was Captain George P. Mends of the battleship Edgar.
They were all being regaled with some of Vansittart’s tales from his time in the China station.
“And so how many junks was it you destroyed again?” Mends asked genially “50?”
“Heavens no!” Vansittart said roaring with laughter. “Can’t have been more than 30, the damn papers would have you believe I sank half the pitiful fleet of the Chinese emperor!”
“Probably on account of your miraculous deeds in rescuing those poor English ladies!” Hancock said taking a sip of wine.
“Yes I certainly did cut a dashing figure coming ashore as the pirate fortress burned around us and the marines put the last of the scum to death. Can’t say I can think of a prouder day escorting those women out while we hung the last of the scum from the walls.”
“Serves the yellow bastards right daring to prey on good white women.” Hobson said cutting in to the story at an appropriate place to congratulate his superior. There was a hearty cry of ‘here here’ and the men raised their glasses in a toast. Taking long draughts of wine Hancock turned to the admiral.
“Surely sir you must have some good stories of the Russian War?” He said cocking his head. Milne let out a chuckle.
“Unless you count fighting an unending battle against unscrupulous merchants and war profiteers no, I fear you are mistaken. I was merely organizing the transports that took our soldiers and supplies to the front.”
“And you did a damn fine job if I may say so sir. Supplies were about the only thing well managed in that war as I’ve heard it.” Mends said.
“I thank you captain, but pray hope that our friends in the army are more organized today than they were facing the Russians. They may not be overly impressive on the battlefield but there are as many of them as there were Russians, and far fewer good British men.” Milne said. There was some laughing and men raised glasses to the army and Doyle.
There came a sudden knock on the door and Milne’s valet answered it with the strictly polite face a valet was expected to do such a thing, rather than the annoyance he felt at being disturbed at such a late hour. As the door opened a nervous ensign stood there, his face still red from the cold. In his hand he held a telegram. The valet raised an eyebrow at the intrusion.
“For the Admiral, from Lord Lyons.” The valet immediately ushered him inside. The ensign gingerly crossed the floor of the room very aware of the copious display of gold braid around him. He came to the Admirals chair and handed it to him. The mirth on Milne’s face died as he read the contents of the telegram. His guests fell silent as well and regarded the admiral as he slowly took a sip of his wine.
“It is war gentlemen.” He said slowly[6]. A sudden sobriety descended across the guests as they took in the sudden severity of the situation. Hall grimaced slightly.
“Well then we’ll damn well whip the Yankee fleet.” Vansittart said angrily. “The fools in Washington have rejected Palmerstons’ demands?”
“It is indeed so.” Milne said. “Hall, go to my office and fetch the orders.” He said turning to the young lieutenant. The man bowed and hurried out of the room, returning a moment later with an envelope, its seal already broken once. Milne unfolded the letter and put it down on the table.
“Now gentlemen, I’ve ordered all my captains to be on alert, and of all the 63 ships of my squadron to be ready and not a one of you has failed in that duty. We are well supplied with fine Welsh coal for our ships, and we do not lack for ammunition or men. What I have here are conditional orders issued by the First Lord of the Admiralty and the government to act if our governments demands are not met.”
“You mean we are to go to war now!?” Hobson exclaimed incredulously. Milne shook his head.
“No, but very soon. We have only a narrow window of opportunity to strike when we can catch the American navy off guard and unsuspecting, hence the reason for sending so many ships to Commodore Dunlop at Veracruz. Unless any of you really thought five battleships was necessary to chastise the Mexican government?” He said with a raised eyebrow. There were a few chuckles around the table and Milne grinned at them. “No gentlemen, we are to break the Union blockade and drive their Navy to port before it can be dispatched to raid our merchantmen around the world.”
“This is a difficult season for a major campaign at sea.” Hancock said cautiously. Milne grimaced and nodded in agreement.
“Indeed it is, but we must act soon. My squadron is still scattered and I have less than what I hoped for when I began planning on laying a blockade. We shall have to act without Dacres substantial force as well. For now at least.”
“There is much work to be done then.” Vansittart said.
“Indeed there is gentlemen, and precious little time to do it.” Milne cleared his throat. “I regret to inform you that I must cut our after dinner conversation short, I have much to attend to and will need to rouse your fellow officers for a council of war tomorrow. For now I must bid you good night.” He scrapped back his chair.
“But first a toast!” he said filling his glass and allowing the others to do the same. “I toast to all the fine men of the Royal Navy who will soon be risking their lives at sea and all their officers. God be with them, God save the Queen and St. George for England!” Milne said raising his glass.
“God save the Queen and St. George for England!” The officers called back raising their own glasses.
As the officers all filed out and bid the Admiral a good night he sighed and turned to look at the young lieutenant. “I fear that there shall be little sleep for you and I tonight Hall. I simply hope the men sleep soundly not yet knowing what awaits in the morning.”
----
[1] The amount of pleasantries which could be exchanged in a conversation is absurd really. I'm attempting to cut down on some.
[2] These numbers are based off roughly what was imported to the Union from summer to November 1861 and the roughly 470,000 muskets/rifles in Union hands at the start of the war. The carbine number is similar. Now this is an estimate, so the number may be slightly off, but I caution the number of rifles available to the Union in January 1862 would definitely be no higher than 700,000 or so, especially here with the cessation of French arms shipments.
[3] Or roughly 5,100,000 pounds.
[4] Thanks to the brilliant South Carolina chemist Joseph Leconte for this.
[5] Though distance wise it’s not too far from the Navy Yard no one ever called the view excellent.
[6] He is of course reading the previously mentioned Antigua message which was a coded message to be sent by Lyons to declare hostilities had broken out.
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