Chapter 129: Grasping at Thrones
Chapter 129: Grasping at Thrones
January 30th, 1867
Solitude Plantation, Mississippi, Confederate States of America
The plantation house showed remarkable little trace of having been burned in the war. Despite the slaves having run off when Pope’s forces had marched for Grenada in 1863, and Union foragers burning the home as they passed, the home looked well weathered. For all that Lucius Quintus Cincinnatus Lamar had done well in the post-war years. Briefly the envoy to Russia after a long period in Europe from 1863-66, he had returned home to find many friends and family dead, his home ruined, and his wife, son and daughters living out their life with a single slave. He had been able to count on a generous salary from the President and slowly rebuild his home and expand the plantation thanks to foreign investments which had paid back handsomely and he had sent home. That had allowed for success and rebuilding.
Lamar had wanted to host the president earlier, but he had been perennially embarrassed until the house was completed. Davis mused that had he known how poorly most homes above his on the Mississippi looked, he would likely have been less embarrassed. Davis himself had toured much of the route through the lands the Great Disturbance had scorched under guard. He’d quickly discovered who his friends were, and who his enemies were. Some had thanked him as he’d commiserated with him, and he suspected some had only been restrained from violence by the presence of his cavalry escort. He was only glad Varina was back in Richmond and far away from all this.
“It’s a fine house, I think, your family will prosper here,” Davis said pleasantly.
“In time, Mr. President, in time. They had hardships while I was in Europe,” Lamar’s eyes briefly were far away. “They all did.”
Lamar had been an enthusiastic advocate of secession, far more than Davis had been. They differed on some items politically, but unlike many policy makers in Richmond, Davis respected Lamar. It must have been quite a shock for him to come home and see so much of his home state burned by the war. Davis himself had been heartbroken, and his fellow Mississippian was equally upset. The past year seemed to have sucked some of the fire from Lamar’s rhetoric, but he was still a fiery presence in politics. Especially on the foreign scene where he had helmed many discussions with foreign leaders.
“We have given them all a new future at least, one free of Yankee tyranny.” Davis said.
“Quite so, though we are approaching a pivotal event in our Confederacy,” Lamar replied.
“The upcoming election? What of it?” Davis couldn’t quite keep the amusement from his voice. “Everyone knows General Lee will run, and he will win. It is as simple as that. I don’t think anyone would be fool enough to run against him, save perhaps for Beauregard.”
“Do you really believe it will be that simple?” Lamar asked, barely keeping the surprise from his voice.
“General Lee will reveal little of his post-war plans to me, but he has heavily hinted he wants to retire. What else could a man of his national stature do in retirement? The Yankees seized his home, Arlington is a charnel house now by all reports.”
Lamar scowled. Each of them knew how far Washington, and the abolitionists especially, had gone to do their best to wreck Lee’s properties. Virginia had allocated him a plantation deeper in the state, in recognition of his good service. That, in Davis’s opinion, was the least the Confederacy owed him. Absent his hard work at Washington and then along the Potomac in 1863, then the crushing victories at Mine Run and Pipe Creek in 1864, the Confederacy might not have prevailed when Perfidious Albion had cut them loose.
Britain’s stature was not high in the Confederacy at the moment. Indeed, absent looking to friendly banking houses and taking British goods, little good was said of Britain. Davis felt slighted, and little banked his anger more than being slighted. He could barely stand to shake the new ambassador’s hand when he had come to Richmond last year. However, Davis was wise enough to realize that they needed at least a cordial relation with Britain to survive. He was much more friendly with the French at this moment. They at least were receptive to Confederate diplomatic overtures.
The new Emperor in Mexico was with them, or so it seemed. That always kept the French’s attention, and there had been subtle overtures of working together. That though, Davis thought with satisfaction, would be for his successor to deal with. And he was increasingly convinced it would be General Lee. Who else would run?
“When Lee becomes president he will be dealing with a group of men who can’t attack him with the same impunity they scorn me with,” Davis said primly.
“Some of them certainly would dare to,” Lamar said. “Toombs is the most fiery in his denunciation of the military. He has had a great deal ill to say of you.”
“He and that blasted Alexander can spread my name through the mud until Judgement Day, it doesn’t change they have been wrong about almost everything.”
“You are perhaps too flippant with your disregard. Toombs and Stephens have the same interest in our new nation as you do.”
“Their interest is in ruining it,” Davis snorted.
Lamar sipped his drink quietly for a moment. Davis felt suddenly abashed.
“I am bringing disquiet into your home after so much uproar has come upon it. I apologize.”
“These have been trying time,” Lamar said, gracefully accepting the apology. “Though what do you intend to do now that your time as president is ending?”
“I will return to Mississippi, manage my plantation, and stay well and clear of politics. Perhaps I’ll be a lawyer again.”
“After so much time in high office?”
“I never sought the office, but had it foisted upon me. I would hardly wish to inflict it upon anyone! No, I intend to stay out of the fray. Let future generations say I became like Cincinnatus, I did my duty and then retired to my farm.”
Lamar chuckled. “Quite the modest allusion.”
“I helped found this new nation, I can give myself some credit through history.”
The two men laughed and toasted the Confederacy. They spent time on idle chatter for a release from politics. Lamar needed a new overseer, and Davis needed more advice in the coming planting season. He had been six years away from his home, so much work would be needed for it to turn a profit. Horses and the opening of trade on the Mississippi was another point of discussion, with both men eager to make new investments through New Orleans. Lamar believed there was business to be opened in Mexico now that the nation was no longer under the rule of halfbreeds, but rather an enlightened European monarch.
Inevitably, it returned to politics.
“What then should men do, do you think?” Lamar asked.
“You should run for the Senate, you’re a good man. I’m telling my good men in the cabinet the same thing, especially Breckinridge, if anyone could help restore Kentucky it would be him. You could do the same for Mississippi! You’re reliable and have the interest of your state, and the Confederacy as a whole, at heart. Too many blackguards put their parochial priorities ahead of the good of the nation. We have to remember it is a Confederacy of states, not just a lobbyist group for Mississippi or South Carolina.”
“Some men believe that we act to defend the nation, but otherwise should the states should be left to their own devices.”
“Then the war has taught some fools nothing,” Davis grumbled. He knew Lamar agreed with that, and sadly there was too much evidence that some were happy to retreat to their plantations to watch the years roll by. If he could convince even a few people against such stupidity, Davis would consider his work complete. Until then, he had the final year of his term to complete.
February 11th 1867
Orizaba, Mexican Empire
Up on the high plateaus and well away from the malarial conditions which afflicted European soldiery, one of the premier bases of operation for French and European soldiers was set at Orizaba. Though garrisoned primarily by Mexican soldiers, it was augmented by French infantry who did not fully trust their erstwhile allies. Sitting at the bottom of the ascent up the mountains towards Puebla and Mexico City, then back to Veracruz, it was an important linchpin in the trade routes in the south. The snow capped titan of Pico de Orizaba loomed over the city, her smaller daughter hills standing like sentinels in the way of any advance. It had not been enough to stop the French in 1862, nor the march of progress onwards from the sea towards the capital. That was, at least, how Europeans and Americans saw it.
One American rider in particular, the reigns in his teeth as he flashed a wad of cash towards a porter, thought that was the case. He was much impressed with the way the streets seemed cleaner than they had on his last visit twenty years prior. They hadn’t run into any bandits on the road from Veracruz to Orizaba, and though there was much evidence of disturbance still, men hung from trees, cannonades mounted on the trains, it was altogether a much more pleasant experience than any he had endured in his last visit. Though, he supposed, to be fair to the Mexicans, he had been invading their country during a war.
Philip Kearny was now far less interested in invading Mexico rather than helping it prosper. It was the least he could do now that his own nation seemed determined to drive itself into despondency and ruin.
Dismounting in front of the hotel he had been informed local officers used, he handed his reins off to the porter and went to enter.
“Der is de rascal!” A strong German voice said. Kearny turned and put out his only good hand to a smaller man with a bushy moustache and a sword at his hip. The two men squeezed palms and Kearny stepped back to examine the officer in his new uniform.
“An aide-de-camp to the emperor himself? And here you were just a colonel when you mustered out of the Union Army in 1865 Felix!”
“Kaiser Maximilian has been very generous in rewarding good service,” Felix Salm-Salm said as he allowed himself to preen slightly for his friend. The two had met during the war serving in Virginia. Both men had a love for soldiering, and ironically both loved women named Agnes. The two wives were embracing one another in the background in the Mexican fashion. Kearny smiled, pleased to see his Agnes would have good company for their trip to Mexico City.
“I only hope he will be as generous with me, I did fight against his brother in Italy.”
Salm-Salm gave a mirthless laugh. “Ah but my dear Kearny, we are all allies now you see? Austrian and French bayonets each hold up the throne! How could be bare you any ill will? Indeed, he could not afford it.”
In truth, that was why Kearny was in Mexico. He had hoped the war would continue until treason was defeated, but the feckless and cowardly President McClellan was proving he was as inept at politics and diplomacy as he was at battle and maneuver. With a few choice comments directed towards Washington, Kearny had resigned from the army late in 1866 and been surprised to receive an invitation to go south into Mexico where there was a real need for experience in organizing Maximilian’s new army.
“Last I had heard the imperial army was growing,” Kearny said.
“Dis is true, ja, but who is using de army?” Salm-Salm said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “General Bazaine is marching nord and sud, taking de best French soldiers to battle de juaristas while leaving de kaiser wit only Austrian and Belgian soldiers to support de Mexicans. Some of whom he, wisely, does not trust.”
“Ever a scheming lot it seems.”
“Let us say I would trust de rank und file wit my life, but de officers perhaps not as far as I could spit,” he put his head aside and spat for emphasis. “Dere’s a few loyal men, but schemers and malcontents abound. I trust de Indian Häuptling more dan a mestizo officer.”
“Precisely why us Europeans and Americans must show them what it means to be loyal and how to wage war,” Kearny nodded. In his experience the Mexican soldiery could fight well, but their officers were often hopelessly inept. If a proper academy could be established, then perhaps they could at last teach the Mexicans to hold their own. If only they pointed their guns towards Mexico’s enemies rather than its leaders.
“But de truth is, we need men who can help fight de banditry which plagues dis country. Whole regions are lacking in government and anarchy like doze German 48ers I met in your army desired is de norm.”
“And after reading your letter with such a generous offer, how could I refuse?” Kearny said. Maximilian was working hard to build an independent power base outside the French and the conservative elite, but to do it he needed men who would follow him and help enforce his edicts. Kearny might not be a politician, but he could train men and point them at the enemies of the nation.
Whereas many in Washington could not it seemed.
“Were you so eager to leave your country?” Salm-Salm asked.
Kearny shook his head. “No, but I could not sit idly by and watch my nation torn asunder when we had in our power the means to prevent it. I could not declare my allegiance to a man in Washington who was a coward during the war, and who now only looks to his own glory rather than that of the nation. Here at least I can do some good. I never was one for subtlety.”
Salm-Salm clapped him on the shoulder. “Den you are in de right place. Mexico is no place for subtlety now!”
“Miraculous that you are so accommodating to the man who your homeland fought recently!”
Salm-Salm chuckled. “I have no hatred to Austria for a war with Prussia, besides, we are all exiles here in one way or another.” Grinning he switched to French. “After all, this is the language of war, no?”
“It is the language of Napoleon, yes,” Kearny replied in French. Sometimes that was all one needed as a lingua franca among the soldiers of fortune he found.
“Then whether we like it or not we must help Maximilian establish a good government here and escape dancing to Napoleon’s tune. I am but a soldier, I do not set policy in Mexico, Vienna, Berlin or Paris, but I can fight to support a well meaning man when I see one.”
“Precisely why I fought for Lincoln, and why I won’t dishonor my sword by drawing it for McClellan. Let us find the ladies and toast to good men then!” With his good arm, he gestured for the hotel.
“Ja, let us find women, drink, and most importantly, the career we so love!” Kearny could wholeheartedly agree with that statement.
