The emergency meeting of the British Cabinet lasted until late afternoon. There was a constant coming and going between Downing Street and the House of Commons, high-ranking officers, generals and admirals for the most part. When a decision was finally reached the order was passed and Lord Palmerston’s carriage clattered on the cobbles up to the main entrance of the House of Commons. Palmerston was carried out of the building by four strong servants, who lifted him carefully through the carriage door. Not carefully enough for he cried out in pain, then cursed his bearers when his bandaged foot struck against the frame. Lord John Russell climbed in and joined him for the short ride down Whitehall, then along the Mall to Buckingham Palace. Word had been sent ahead of this momentous visit and the Queen was waiting for them when they were ushered into her presence. She was dressed entirely in black, still in mourning for Albert, a period of mourning that would last her lifetime.
Lord Palmerston was eased into a chair. The pain was clear on his face but he struggled against it and spoke.
“Your Majesty. Your cabinet has been assembled this entire day in solemn conference. We have consulted with responsible members of the armed forces before reaching a decision. You will of course have seen the dispatch from Canada?”
“Report?” she said vaguely. Her eyes were misted and red with weeping. Since Albert’s death she had barely been able to function. At times she tried; most of the time she refused to leave her private chambers. Today, with great effort, she had emerged to meet with Palmerston. “Yes, I think that I read it. Very confused.”
“Apologies, ma’am. Written in the heat of action no doubt. If I could elucidate. Our cavalry is thinly stretched along the length of the Canadian border. We have limited troops there so, in order to keep close and continuous watch, it is my understanding that the local militia has been deployed. Commanded by British officers of course. It was one of these patrols that was stationed near the Quebec village of Coaticook that came under attack.”
“My soldiers — attacked!” Her attention was attracted at last. Her voice rose to a shrill screech. “This is a grave matter, Lord Palmerston. Terrible! Terrible!”
“Grave indeed, ma’am. It appears that a road of some sort crosses the border here leading to Derby, in the American state of Vermont. Lord Russell, if I could have the map.”
Russell opened the map on an end table and the servants carried it over and placed it before the Queen. She looked around unseeingly, finally bent over it as Palmerston tapped it with his finger.
“The border between Canada and the United States is ill marked and runs through some very rugged country, or so I have been told. Apparently a party of American cavalry had crossed the border here and was apprehended by our patrol. Surprised in their trespass they opened fire in a most cowardly fashion, completely without warning. The militia, although only Colonials, fought back bravely and succeeded in repelling the invasion — though not without losses. A brave soldier wounded by gunfire is now at death’s door.”
“This is shocking, shocking.”
Queen Victoria was terribly upset, fanning her bright red face with her kerchief. She signaled to a lady-in-waiting and spoke to her. Lady Kathleen Shiel hurried away and returned with a glass of beer from which the Queen drank deep. This was some mark of her distress at the news, since she loved beer but rarely drank it with others present. Somewhat restored she sipped again from the glass and felt the anger rise within her.
“Are you informing me that my province has been invaded, one of our subjects killed by the Americans?” She shouted out the words.
“Indeed invaded. Certainly shot but…”
“I will not have this!” She was almost screaming now, infused by an intense rage. “There must be an answer to this crime. Something must be done. You say you discussed this all day. Too much talk. There must be some action.”
“There will be, ma’am.”
“What will it be? What has my cabinet decided?”
“With your permission, ma’am, we wish to send the Americans an ultimatum…”
“We have had enough of these ultimatums. We write and we write and they do exactly what they please.”
“Not this time. They will have seven days to respond. Their response must be the immediate release of the two Confederate commissioners and their aides. We also demand that we receive a letter of apology for this incursion into Your Majesty’s sovereign territory, as well as the attempted murder of one of Your Majesty’s subjects. Lord Lyons will personally carry this communication to Washington City and remain there for a week and no longer. We are firm in this intention. At the end of this period he will leave, with the response or without it, and return on the same steam packet that will convey him there. When he arrives in Southampton the response will be cabled to Whitehall.”
These firm words had calmed the Queen somewhat. Her mouth worked as she spoke wordlessly to herself. Finally she nodded in agreement and patted her damp face with her black kerchief.
“It is too fair — more than fair considering what has been done. They deserve worse. And what if the response is in the negative? If they refuse a reply and do not release the prisoners? What will my bold ministers do then?”
Lord Palmerston tried to ignore her agitated state. His voice was grave, yet very firm, when he responded.
“If the Americans do not accede to these reasonable demands all responsibility will lie with them. A state of war will then be deemed to exist between the United States of America and the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.”
The silence that fell upon the room was more revealing of the feelings of those gathered there than any cry or spoken word might have been. All present had heard, all present understood the somber and momentous decision that must be made. All waited in deep silence for Queen Victoria to respond.
She sat stiffly in her chair, her hands lying on the black silk of her gown. Lady Shiel rustled forward and took the glass from her when she held it out. With a great effort the Queen drew herself together, forced herself to concentrate upon the matters to hand. She rested her hands on the arms of the chair, sat up straighten And spoke.
“Lord Palmerston, this is a grave responsibility and decision that my ministers have placed before me. But we cannot shrink from the truth, nor can we shy away from the conclusions that must then be reached.” She paused abstractedly before she spoke again.
“We are not pleased by what the Americans have done to our honor and our person. They will be punished.
“Send the ultimatum.”
THE ROAD TO WAR
The governor of the state of Louisiana, Thomas O. Moore, was a very worried man. He did not have to be reminded of this by higher authorities. He had sent for General Mansfield Lovell as soon as he had received the letter — and he waved it at him when the general entered the room.