- Joined
- Oct 22, 2014
After twelve years of writing nonfiction books and articles about the Civil War & Reconstruction, two years ago I started writing historical novels of the era. The Despot's Heel is my fourth. Each is based on genuine historical events and people. The plots arise from the incomplete explanations that received history is providing. There's something missing and upon that "something" hangs the truth.
In The Despot's Heel, Maryland is poised to follow Virginia into secession because her legislature favors it. If Lincoln does not stop them his national government will be behind enemy lines. Can Lincoln keep Maryland in the USA without destroying America's faith in the constitution? Can a band of Confederate guerillas thwart Lincoln's mission with a surgical strike against Union leadership? If Lincoln's administration becomes a government in exile will Northerners acquiesce to secession and will the Europeans diplomatically recognize the Confederacy? Even though we know the eventual outcome, not until now has the full truth been told.
In 1860 Washington City newspapermen congregated at Fourteenth Street and Pennsylvania Avenue because of abundant nearby telegraphic facilities. As a result, the area teemed with the latest news . . . and rumors.
At eight o'clock in the evening of March 9, 1860, two men dining at The Cave Lounge were having a furtive conversation. Their table was in an alcove which blocked three of the directions from which their voices might be overheard. It also had a window facing Pennsylvania Avenue. To give access to the table, the fourth boundary was open and faced the other dining guests. Although diners at most every table were absorbed in their own chatter, the requirements of their profession made them prone to eavesdrop in hopes of catching an advantageous news scoop. Consequently, the two men occasionally glanced at the diners at other tables to detect if anyone was listening.
By his attire alone, one revealed himself to be an aristocrat, probably a Virginia or Maryland horse farm owner. The other was dressed in a woolen but indifferently tailored suit like nearly all the other newspapermen. Within a couple of years, Union military officers would refer to journalists derisively as The Bohemian Brigade. If anyone attempted to introduce himself to the two diners this evening, each man would limit his identity to his first name; the aristocrat as "Bill" and the journalist as "Mark."
Presently, Bill said, "This meal is one way of showing my thanks for the splendid way you monitored the Maryland General Assembly's reaction to the South Carolina Governor's proposals. Although the select committee could not speak on behalf of the entire Assembly, their recommendation yesterday to side with their sister Southern states in the event of a secession movement, was reassuring. I suppose we'll know better in about six or seven months when the autumn general elections are decided."
Mark, nodded and said, "And I thank you for promptly paying my invoices."
Bill waved off the remark with his right hand and said, "Good information merits prompt payment. In fact, good work of any kind merits prompt payment." He paused before adding, "My colleagues and I are now turning our attention to the Democratic Party Convention next month in Charleston. Can you attend and keep us informed?
"When does it start?"
"April twenty-third."
Mark shifted his eyes up and to the right as he calculated, "That's about seven weeks from now. . . I think I should be able to get approval from my editor."
"Good," said Bill. "Let me know soon if you need help securing hotel lodging. The inventory down there is rapidly shrinking. Some reporters may end up paying to sleep on billiard tables at the parlors and hotels."
"Yes, that would be uncomfortable. Book me a room tomorrow if you can."
"I can, and will," said Bill . . . "Keep a close eye on both William Yancey of Alabama and, of course, Stephen Douglas of Illinois."
Mark smiled and said, "Yes, everybody knows of "The Little Giant," but what is your interest in Yancey? He is not a candidate, correct?"
"Technically, no, he is not a candidate. But he represents a movement within the Party that will be pivotal if he succeeds. He hopes to prevent Douglas from being nominated. Watch for him to make his move during the platform debate. He may oppose squatter sovereignty, his derisive term for Douglas' Popular Sovereignty. Regardless of the expression he uses, it is the principle that the residents of a territory can either legalize, or outlaw, slavery within their borders. Yancey's version of Popular Sovereignty limits that choice to the moment the territory presents a written constitution and applies for statehood."
Mark nodded slowly and said, "I see," before stroking his chin.
"If Yancey's version prevails, it could fracture the Party into two components: one for the North and the other for the South. Northern Democrats are keen on settling the Western Territories, but they want those lands for free white people. Lincoln himself put it that way six years ago when commenting upon the Kansas-Nebraska bill. White squatters will be reluctant to move into those territories if they must compete for acreage against blacks, whether they be free or owned by slaveholders."
"Well," said Mark. "The Charleston Convention could be historic. If it fractures the Democrats, it could provide a big opportunity for Seward . . . or some other Republican."
"Yes," said Bill, "and that brings me to another point."
"Oh, what's that?"
"I understand you attended Lincoln's Cooper Union address a week or so ago."
"Yes, I did."
"What are your impressions of the 'Rail Splitter?' Is he a serious contender for the Republican nomination?"
"Yes, I think he is, although I did not think so before I saw him speak at Cooper Union. He was invited by the Young Men's Central Republican Union, an organization focused on preventing Seward from being nominated. Members include Horace Greeley of the New York Tribune and William Cullen Bryant of the Evening Post. Ironically, given the name of their organizing union, neither man is youthful. Instead, they are at the age when exceptional men have had time to achieve fame or notoriety and public influence."
Mark briefly looked at the ceiling before saying, "The hall was filled to its 1500 seat capacity. Abe stepped forward to the lectern, tall, lanky, and somewhat awkward. When he spoke, particularly at the outset, his voice was unexpectedly high and piercing, a characteristic incongruent with his six-foot, four-inch frame. But it ceased to be distracting when he dissected Stephen Douglas' position on slavery in the territories.
He argued that even though Douglas' Popular Sovereignty was consistent with America's local option democratic traditions, its adoption did not mean that Congress lacked the power to regulate slavery in the federal territories. He dug through the records of the 1787 Constitutional Convention and the debates in the earliest Congresses to show that over half of the original thirty-nine signers of the Constitution revealed by their votes a conviction that Congress could indeed regulate slavery in the territories. Specifically, he argued that prior to Douglas' 1854 Kansas-Nebraska Act, it was impossible to declare that the Constitution forbade the central government from controlling slavery in the federal territories."
Mark stroked his chin before adding, "I guess that also puts Abe at odds with your man Yancey."
Bill snorted a muffled laugh and said, "Yes, indeed . . . We'll know after Charleston . . . but understand that Yancey is not 'my man.' Personally, like most Marylanders I'd like the Union to remain intact, but I also want a President who will stop Northerners from perpetually condemning Southerners as morally defective. Their underlying arrogance pushes Southerners toward secession. It is too much to expect the two groups to remain united in one confederation when one insists on condemning the other's morality and reminding him of it every day like a nagging wife. It goes beyond being merely obnoxious when they promote slave insurrections, like the one in Harpers Ferry last fall."
Bill paused for a minute to see how Mark would respond but Mark said nothing. Eventually, Bill asked "Can you share any more information about Abe's speech?"
Mark nodded and said "It was frequently interrupted by applause and the waving of handkerchiefs and hats. The next day four of New York's newspapers published it word for word. In my view, however, he overplayed his hand."
Bill cocked his head a bit sideways and said, "How's that?"
"He incorporated aspects of his 'House Divided' speech from his 1858 debates with Douglas. When arguing that Southerners were on a mission to convert the free states into slave states, he recklessly indulged in hyperbole. I know John Scripps of the Chicago Tribune. He was present when Lincoln made that speech. He told me that Lincoln later tried to distance himself from it. He claimed that the all-slave-or-all-free mantra was merely a prediction, and perhaps a foolish one. . . Nonetheless, the speech has served as a springboard to put him into contention with Seward for the Republican presidential nomination."
In The Despot's Heel, Maryland is poised to follow Virginia into secession because her legislature favors it. If Lincoln does not stop them his national government will be behind enemy lines. Can Lincoln keep Maryland in the USA without destroying America's faith in the constitution? Can a band of Confederate guerillas thwart Lincoln's mission with a surgical strike against Union leadership? If Lincoln's administration becomes a government in exile will Northerners acquiesce to secession and will the Europeans diplomatically recognize the Confederacy? Even though we know the eventual outcome, not until now has the full truth been told.
Provided below is Chapter One
Chapter 1: The Bohemian Brigade
Chapter 1: The Bohemian Brigade
In 1860 Washington City newspapermen congregated at Fourteenth Street and Pennsylvania Avenue because of abundant nearby telegraphic facilities. As a result, the area teemed with the latest news . . . and rumors.
At eight o'clock in the evening of March 9, 1860, two men dining at The Cave Lounge were having a furtive conversation. Their table was in an alcove which blocked three of the directions from which their voices might be overheard. It also had a window facing Pennsylvania Avenue. To give access to the table, the fourth boundary was open and faced the other dining guests. Although diners at most every table were absorbed in their own chatter, the requirements of their profession made them prone to eavesdrop in hopes of catching an advantageous news scoop. Consequently, the two men occasionally glanced at the diners at other tables to detect if anyone was listening.
By his attire alone, one revealed himself to be an aristocrat, probably a Virginia or Maryland horse farm owner. The other was dressed in a woolen but indifferently tailored suit like nearly all the other newspapermen. Within a couple of years, Union military officers would refer to journalists derisively as The Bohemian Brigade. If anyone attempted to introduce himself to the two diners this evening, each man would limit his identity to his first name; the aristocrat as "Bill" and the journalist as "Mark."
Presently, Bill said, "This meal is one way of showing my thanks for the splendid way you monitored the Maryland General Assembly's reaction to the South Carolina Governor's proposals. Although the select committee could not speak on behalf of the entire Assembly, their recommendation yesterday to side with their sister Southern states in the event of a secession movement, was reassuring. I suppose we'll know better in about six or seven months when the autumn general elections are decided."
Mark, nodded and said, "And I thank you for promptly paying my invoices."
Bill waved off the remark with his right hand and said, "Good information merits prompt payment. In fact, good work of any kind merits prompt payment." He paused before adding, "My colleagues and I are now turning our attention to the Democratic Party Convention next month in Charleston. Can you attend and keep us informed?
"When does it start?"
"April twenty-third."
Mark shifted his eyes up and to the right as he calculated, "That's about seven weeks from now. . . I think I should be able to get approval from my editor."
"Good," said Bill. "Let me know soon if you need help securing hotel lodging. The inventory down there is rapidly shrinking. Some reporters may end up paying to sleep on billiard tables at the parlors and hotels."
"Yes, that would be uncomfortable. Book me a room tomorrow if you can."
"I can, and will," said Bill . . . "Keep a close eye on both William Yancey of Alabama and, of course, Stephen Douglas of Illinois."
Mark smiled and said, "Yes, everybody knows of "The Little Giant," but what is your interest in Yancey? He is not a candidate, correct?"
"Technically, no, he is not a candidate. But he represents a movement within the Party that will be pivotal if he succeeds. He hopes to prevent Douglas from being nominated. Watch for him to make his move during the platform debate. He may oppose squatter sovereignty, his derisive term for Douglas' Popular Sovereignty. Regardless of the expression he uses, it is the principle that the residents of a territory can either legalize, or outlaw, slavery within their borders. Yancey's version of Popular Sovereignty limits that choice to the moment the territory presents a written constitution and applies for statehood."
Mark nodded slowly and said, "I see," before stroking his chin.
"If Yancey's version prevails, it could fracture the Party into two components: one for the North and the other for the South. Northern Democrats are keen on settling the Western Territories, but they want those lands for free white people. Lincoln himself put it that way six years ago when commenting upon the Kansas-Nebraska bill. White squatters will be reluctant to move into those territories if they must compete for acreage against blacks, whether they be free or owned by slaveholders."
"Well," said Mark. "The Charleston Convention could be historic. If it fractures the Democrats, it could provide a big opportunity for Seward . . . or some other Republican."
"Yes," said Bill, "and that brings me to another point."
"Oh, what's that?"
"I understand you attended Lincoln's Cooper Union address a week or so ago."
"Yes, I did."
"What are your impressions of the 'Rail Splitter?' Is he a serious contender for the Republican nomination?"
"Yes, I think he is, although I did not think so before I saw him speak at Cooper Union. He was invited by the Young Men's Central Republican Union, an organization focused on preventing Seward from being nominated. Members include Horace Greeley of the New York Tribune and William Cullen Bryant of the Evening Post. Ironically, given the name of their organizing union, neither man is youthful. Instead, they are at the age when exceptional men have had time to achieve fame or notoriety and public influence."
Mark briefly looked at the ceiling before saying, "The hall was filled to its 1500 seat capacity. Abe stepped forward to the lectern, tall, lanky, and somewhat awkward. When he spoke, particularly at the outset, his voice was unexpectedly high and piercing, a characteristic incongruent with his six-foot, four-inch frame. But it ceased to be distracting when he dissected Stephen Douglas' position on slavery in the territories.
He argued that even though Douglas' Popular Sovereignty was consistent with America's local option democratic traditions, its adoption did not mean that Congress lacked the power to regulate slavery in the federal territories. He dug through the records of the 1787 Constitutional Convention and the debates in the earliest Congresses to show that over half of the original thirty-nine signers of the Constitution revealed by their votes a conviction that Congress could indeed regulate slavery in the territories. Specifically, he argued that prior to Douglas' 1854 Kansas-Nebraska Act, it was impossible to declare that the Constitution forbade the central government from controlling slavery in the federal territories."
Mark stroked his chin before adding, "I guess that also puts Abe at odds with your man Yancey."
Bill snorted a muffled laugh and said, "Yes, indeed . . . We'll know after Charleston . . . but understand that Yancey is not 'my man.' Personally, like most Marylanders I'd like the Union to remain intact, but I also want a President who will stop Northerners from perpetually condemning Southerners as morally defective. Their underlying arrogance pushes Southerners toward secession. It is too much to expect the two groups to remain united in one confederation when one insists on condemning the other's morality and reminding him of it every day like a nagging wife. It goes beyond being merely obnoxious when they promote slave insurrections, like the one in Harpers Ferry last fall."
Bill paused for a minute to see how Mark would respond but Mark said nothing. Eventually, Bill asked "Can you share any more information about Abe's speech?"
Mark nodded and said "It was frequently interrupted by applause and the waving of handkerchiefs and hats. The next day four of New York's newspapers published it word for word. In my view, however, he overplayed his hand."
Bill cocked his head a bit sideways and said, "How's that?"
"He incorporated aspects of his 'House Divided' speech from his 1858 debates with Douglas. When arguing that Southerners were on a mission to convert the free states into slave states, he recklessly indulged in hyperbole. I know John Scripps of the Chicago Tribune. He was present when Lincoln made that speech. He told me that Lincoln later tried to distance himself from it. He claimed that the all-slave-or-all-free mantra was merely a prediction, and perhaps a foolish one. . . Nonetheless, the speech has served as a springboard to put him into contention with Seward for the Republican presidential nomination."
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