Robert Conroy - 1862

“Nathan, I am not as confident as you are. Don't forget that I've dealt with England on a diplomatic basis. I assure you that there are forces in Great Britain that wish a war with us, and now that fool Captain Wilkes has given them a reason, Right now. Wilkes is likely speaking before some anti-British group or other and proclaiming the justice of what he did, When he is done, he will be cheered to the rafters, In the meantime, England feels humiliated and demands revenge,”

Scott slapped the arm of his chair in frustration, “But what if the British do not accept our apology, as I fear they will not? It has been almost a month since the SanJacinio made port with her prisoners, and ships with the news saiied to Britain almost immediately. Less than a week after that a ship with the formal American response set sail.

“You are right, of course. Lincoln's response is a groveling apology. He has also released Mr. Slidell and Mr. Mason and the others in the party, and they have taken themselves to England. In other times, it would be a generous response to right a wrong, but I believe the British will have had time to let the wound fester before our ship even arrived. And,” he sighed, “I believe they will decide that war is the appropriate course of action,”

Scott again sighed deeply. “But the taking of theTrent is a grievous insult, and I fear that Britain will wish more than an apology, She will wish her pound of flesh, along with several more.”

Nathan sagged back in his chair, “That would be tragic, No, a disaster, another one, And what does that have to do with my being here?”

General Winfield Scott sat straighten and now there was steel in his eyes, “If we must wage war with England again, I wish us to win it. I wish for you to be an instrument of that victory,”

Nathan looked at him in disbelief, then shook his head. “General Scott, I think I'll have that drink now.”

Nathan had been to Europe and had sampled a number of the brandies and liquors of the continent, but was unfamiliar with the whiskeys of Scotland.

“What do you recommend?” he asked.

“The Chivas Regal is a smooth blend, and the J amp; B also a blend, but a touch less smooth. The Glenlivet and the Glenmorangie are single malts, which makes them a bit on the harsh side to the uninitiated, but, as we are discussing war, they are more appropriate. Try the Glenlivet and pour me a generous one as well.”

It was almost absurd. They had been discussing imminent war and now the old general was discoursing on the differences between liquors. The general had always been an expert on food and drink. Even in the roughest of military camps he had demanded excellent food if it could possibly be procured. Strangely, his men, many of whom had been rough frontiersmen, had thought it humorous and liked him for it. Their affection became part of Scott's legend.

Scott took his glass and raised it. “To the Union, Nathan.”

Nathan touched his to the general's and repeated it, They sipped and Nathan felt the slow fire of the whiskey warm his body, He decided he should have had one right away, as it quickly did an excellent job of dispelling the chill brought on by the rain.

“What do you expect of me?” Nathan asked.

“First let me explain something. I resigned as commanding general of the United States Army because Secretary of War Cameron connived against me. He thought I was untrustworthy because I was a Southerner from Virginia, and he also thought my age and general weakness would not permit me to exercise day-to-day command of an army at war. In peace, Old Fuss and Feathers could function adequately, In wartime, Cameron and his cabal thought a younger and more energetic man was needed, There is also the fact that no one believed in my plan for subjugating the South, I estimated it would take a couple of years and they said that was far too long. As a result, I was coerced into directing General McDowell to advance on Manassas with an army that was unprepared and was led by a man who was not ready. I take the blame for that decision,

“Secretary of War Simon Cameron is a fool. I served the United States all my life. I was not going to change now. Are you aware that Jefferson Davis offered me command of the Confederate forces?”

Nathan was, There was more than a little irony in the fact that while Scott had been offered command of the rebels, Robert E, Lee had been offered command of the Union forces by Scott,

As for Scott's plan to defeat the South, it called for a blockade of the South and a slow strangulation of her military and economic resources. It was realistic and well thought out. Unfortunately, the nation would have none of it. They wanted immediate victory; two or three years was far too long to wait.

Scott's plan had been derided as overlong and pessimistic. Someone had dubbed it the Anaconda Plan, and the name had stuck. The plan had been tossed away and the Union forces had jubilantly attacked the Confederates at Bull Run, confident in an easy victory that would end the war in one day.

It had not worked out that way. The Union had endured a smashing defeat, and now the South was being blockaded, and the Union armies in the west were forming for slow advances. By default, the Anaconda Plan was being put into slow, grinding action.

“You were right, of course, sir.”

Scott took a swallow of his whiskey. “Sometimes I wish I was wrong. But it does prove that there is nothing wrong with my mind. No, I do not want to command again-that would be folly. I am not senile, or demented, but I am old and do lack the energy of a younger man, and, when I get tired, I get forgetful. No, I do not wish to command. I only wish that Cameron had permitted me a more graceful exit.”

“What then?”

“I wish to advise.”

“McClellan?”

“Hardly. I doubt the Young Napoleon would take advice from God, although he might presume to give it to the deity.”

Nathan thought the indictment was a little harsh. McClellan certainly had an enormous ego, but he was still a reasonable man. Or at least the man Nathan had met prior to the war had been a reasonable man.

“Then who, General?”

“Lincoln. The president is the commander in chief. He must act like it. He must grow into the position, and he must do so quickly. He must not be dominated by minds like McClellan's.”

Nathan understood Scott's dilemma. He could not openly try to advise his president lest it look like he was undercutting the responsibilities of the new commanding general, George Brinton McClellan. Therefore, Scott wished Nathan to act as a conduit between himself and the president.

“I see why you weren't very upset that I hadn't taken a commission,” Nathan said. “As a civilian, I can move around freely and am not subject to any military officer's orders.” Scott smiled. “Precisely.”

Nathan poured himself another inch of whiskey, and then added the same quantity to Scott's outstretched glass. Despite his lack of confidence in Lincoln, he found himself intrigued. Then he hated himself for realizing that Scott had planned that he would be intrigued. Damn him.

“Just how do you intend for me to start? I don't know Mr. Lincoln, or anyone else in the current administration.”

Scott dismissed that problem. “On Friday, two days from now, there will be a reception, a salon, held by the French embassy. There haven't been many such parties recently, which means that it will be well attended. Lincoln will not go, as his wife gets lost and confused at such activities. This means that several other key people will not attend because they consider it politically expedient to not do so. There will, however, still be a great number of very important people in attendance, and I wish you to be there as the first step in my scheme. I have arranged for you to be invited to the reception, and I have a short list of people I wish you to contact. In particular, I wish you to meet a Mr. John Hay.”