“Lastly.” Scott said, “we would like Lord Russell to use his diplomatic skills to convince France to depart Mexico. If Napoleon III is not already convinced of his folly in trying to take Mexico, please inform him that, upon cessation of hostilities, the Union armies will move into Mexico and forcibly oust his forces. Please convince him of our resolve in that matter.”
“We will do that,” Monck said. The infusion of Union arms to Mexico's rebels had turned an already brutal war into a bloodbath. France was confronting catastrophe in the New World, and the very thought of Union armies aiding the cause of an independent Mexico would make Napoleon III wilt totally.
“Is that all?” Monck asked. “It is.”
Monck understood. Nothing had been said about Ireland. England would continue to have problems with that miserable island, but the United States would place no official demands on England for resolution of the conflict. However, neither would the United States disavow unofficial support for Irish freedom by organizations such as the Fenians. They would continue to supply money, guns, and recruits to fight against England. Cleburne was dead, but others would arise to take his place. The fighting in Ireland had died down as a result of mutual exhaustion, but it could, and would, begin anew at anytime. England had bought time. How best to use it was the question.
Both men were satisfied. Monck had feared greater territorial demands by the Americans, while Scott had feared that Monck would have called his bluff about Quebec and Halifax. Neither Lincoln nor Grant wanted any part of an invasion of Nova Scotia or of any dealings with the mad Frenchmen in Quebec.
Scott only wondered if he had made a mistake regarding Hawaii. He dismissed it. Hawaii wasn't American territory: thus, giving it to England was an act of no consequence. Scott walked ponderously from the room. He felt both his age and the cold, even though the fires kept it at bay. “Nathan, John, was it a good day's work?” Both men grinned. “It was,” Nathan said.
“I thought so, too. We will dine tonight with Governor Monck in a new spirit of cooperation that, someday, might evolve into friendship. Meanwhile, let's have a drink.”
Judah Benjamin, secretary of state for the Confederate States of America, approached the meeting with dread. Lord Richard Lyons, representative of Great Britain and ambassador without portfolio, had requested it, and the reason for it would not be a pleasant one.
All was not as it should be between the Confederacy and England. Rumors of a dramatic change between the two countries had been running rampant and they had been exacerbated by General Napier's move of the remains of his army towards Norfolk. Even a dullard could see that England was no longer interested in a land war with the steadily approaching Union forces.
Lord Lyons was announced and he took a seat across from Benjamin in Benjamin's office. After a few pleasantries were exchanged, Lord Lyons got down to business. “Mr. Benjamin, it is with a degree of regret that I inform you of my government's intentions regarding war with the United States of America.”
“Based on the move of General Napier's army to the coast, it has already gone beyond the intention state.” Benjamin had not missed the formal reference to the United States of America, instead of just the Union. This was indeed bad.
Lyons cleared his throat and continued. “As a result of information that has been forthcoming to Her Majesty's government, it has become necessary not just to depart the war, but to change totally England's relationship with the seceded states.”
Seceded states? Benjamin's dismay grew. Lyons had not even referred to the Confederacy by name. The term seceded states made the South sound like outlaws. “I presume you are referring to the unfortunate documents that are alleged to be from Jefferson Davis to General Hampton. There are those who have doubts as to their authenticity.”
Lyons smiled slightly. “We harbor no such doubts. Nor, apparently, does General Hampton. He has acknowledged it in a conversation with an agent of ours.”
Benjamin shook his head. What a fool, he thought. Why couldn't he have just denied them? Damn men with honor. Even Jefferson Davis had wanted to tell the truth, but had managed to avoid doing so by not letting anyone ask him about the letter.
“The whole situation is a misunderstanding,” Benjamin said nervously. “Surely it can be resolved by reasonable men acting in concert.”
“Great Britain's position on slavery is known. Had we been aware of such a, uh, misunderstanding, we would not have been able to provide direct support to your cause. There is, of course, more.”
What else could there be? Benjamin wondered.
“We have affidavits from a Southern sympathizer named Stephen Canty. He is a resident of Havana and he was paid by the Confederate government to provide information regarding the Trent's sailing schedule to the San Jacinto. In short, the Confederacy precipitated the Trent Incident in order to get us into the war.”
“I believe I have a thorough knowledge of my nation's efforts in the area of espionage,” said Benjamin, “and I know of no such endeavor or of anyone named Canty. I would like the opportunity to speak with that man.”
“Not possible,” Lyons said with a slight smile. “He fears for his life and has disappeared.”
Benjamin suddenly understood. The Hampton letter was real but the Canty affidavit was not. It was a fraud intended to corroborate the Hampton letter and to provide one more reason for England to sever ties with the Confederacy. By accusing the South of duplicity, England had been duplicitous herself.
“You have no shame, do you?” Benjamin said resignedly. “What terms have been extracted from you by the North?”
Lord Lyons gave Benjamin a summary of the negotiations between General Scott and Governor Monck that left the Confederate secretary of state aghast. He had expected the British to depart the war, but not that they would become a new enemy.
“In your position, sir,” said Lyons, “I would negotiate for peace.” “We must fight on,” Benjamin said softly. “Our honor demands it.”
“You must face reality.” Lyons rebuked him gently. “As a result of Britain's ill-fated intervention, enlistments in the Union army have soared to where our sources say they have more than seven hundred thousand men under arms, and that number continues to grow. That's several times larger than the Confederacy's and, even if you could put more men into the field, you couldn't arm them or supply them. You haven't the numbers and you have no industry to support what you do have.”
“You had been helping to supply us,” Benjamin said with a trace of petulance.
“But no more. Look at what is happening. Grant is approaching Richmond, while Sherman is moving down the Shenandoah. It may look like his army is digressing, but he will debauch from the valley to the south and west of Richmond and, with no Confederate army of substance to halt it, will head north towards Richmond. You will be caught in a giant vise and without your best general.
Do you really think Beauregard can stand up to Grant, Thomas and Sherman? The Confederacy has some excellent leaders, but so, too, does the Union. The days when the Confederacy held the advantage in generalship are over. The Union generals are at least as good as yours, perhaps better. Even if they were merely equal, their army is overwhelmingly larger. You do not have armies enough to halt them.”
Lord Lyons declined to inform the Confederate statesman that Union troops under McPherson had begun to land at Norfolk. He would find that out soon enough. “You have betrayed us,” Benjamin said.
“We have protected our interests and we sincerely trust that you will do likewise with yours. Proclaim our perfidy to the skies if you like. It won't matter. The truth about Canty won't come out for generations, if at all. By that time, this will all be behind us. We accepted the fact that we have been defeated and have decided to cut our losses. I urge you to do the same. I have it on good authority that Mr. Lincoln is inclined to be both merciful and just. Negotiate to rejoin the Union.”