Secrataries of State

Telling a new story from the discussion from my first attempt. I like the political intrigue I've brainstormed and believe it may work. Of course, some may always disagree about whether the PODs are realistic. I don't think all of this is a reach, although I am far from a military expert. I will place in some exceptions in the narrative that will hopefully forgive any grievous sins.

JULY, 1864

The past few months had been both joyous and mournful in Richmond. The tides of the war had tilted clearly in the Confederacy's favor.

Robert E. Lee had narrowly won the cataclysmic Battle of Gettysburg. While the greys endured much carnage and loss, their Union rivals fared worse. The Army of the Potomac's will was heavily cracked. Many of its surviving members joined those who surrendered after battle ended, fleeing back to the towns and cities of the northeastern seaboard.

General Meade's army was surviving by its strings and retreated south, into Maryland, near Taneytown.

Both sides rested for some weeks, preparing for another inevitable battle. The ANV had found itself able to feed itself from the rich farmland, as well as by force. In addition, a carriage supply line was also established, allowing the troops to replenish.

The remnants of Meade's forces, however, faced more tough times. They did not receive the number of troops hoped for, as the poor of the cities were increasingly agitated against the war, thanks to the spreading words and influence of the Copperheads. They received hostile treatment from many of the central Maryland residents, a lot of whom still identified themselves with the South, others who did not want to risk losing themselves by being in the crosshairs of a losing battle. Occasional skirmishes with local militias, fearing Lincoln's habeus corpus rules, also broke out on few occasions. Despite being the Army of the Potomac, they were treated like hostile invaders.

In October, Lee made his advance. The AOTP troops, already doubting their leadership and purpose, had no chance. The battle lasted two days. The first hours were a slaughter. The next saw regiments and units wave flags of truce and surrenders. The night saw desertion. Hours in the next day, Meade had no choice but to message Lincoln. The Army of the Potomac was no more.

Lee now had many options. A turn east would bring him towards Baltimore and Philadelphia. A turn South would bring him to the nigh-impenetrable DC. Lee was politically astute, but not so much as the CSA's Secretary of State, Judah Benjamin. Benjamin and Jefferson Davis conferred.

The strategy: Move towards the Capital. But don't invade. A siege around the city's perimeter, with the threat of a future invasion, would tighten the noose around Lincoln's neck.

This strategy worked well. Increasingly, the Democrat-fueled newspapers begged Lincoln to sue for peace. Draft riots, attacks on freed blacks, and arsons to abolitionist places of meeting became more and more common. The Copperheads had gained more and more influence outside of the rural expanses of Ohio and the west. Their arguments rang true with the North's urban population; poor Irish-Catholics, had no reason to support abolition. They would face competition for jobs, housing and opportunities.

In addition, the treatment of Clement Vallandigham had become a cause celebre -- he had been turned over to the Confederacy in 1863, before exile to Canada. There, a series of letters he wrote were published in Peace Democrat newspapers. Lincoln, faced with charges of tyranny for banishing an outspoken irritant, faced the political pressure. He relented and allowed his enemy back. Vallandingham then stormed throughout the nation to fuel his rage. He would speak to thousands, and then tens of thousands.

Meanwhile, the Southern Theater had turned. With artillery fire periodically erupting directly over his head, Lincoln had hoped a victory in the south would turn the tide in the Union's favor. It was hoped that capturing Atlanta would have crushed the Confederacy's supply lines, allowing the Union forces to storm north to Richmond and return the favor.
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RICHMOND, JULY, 1864

President Jefferson Davis awaited nervously in the Confederate White House. For months, good news was near constant. However, Sherman's March from Tennessee to Georgia had momentum. The South's main advantage had always been leadership; this was finally in dispute in the Peachtree State. However, Davis decided to not let his temperament get the best of him this time as he awaited news.

An aide interrupted him and informed him of visitors – the Secretary of War James Seddon, with his bushy nearly unkempt white hair, and Secretary of State Judah Benjamin, with his wide face and permanent mischief making smile. Davis's eyes perked as Seddon approached.

Pleasantries were not exchanged as Seddon knew to immediately read the telegram.

"Dear Sir,

It is with great honor I inform you of what happened at Peachtree Creek. I know we have had differences over my strategies; however, I believe my tactics have worked. Sherman eventually would change strategies, not attempting to flank, but to drive right into the stake of our troops, sooner or later. This time, his decision proved fatal. We quickly flanked him to the right and left, first repelling their advance, and then the next day advanced on our own. The Army of the Cumberland marched back along the path they came, nearly all the way back to Chatanooga.

I must also tip my cap to Gen. Forest. His cavalry have done yeoman's work in assisting in the results. He is a man of many words and boasts. However, all have confirmed what he said to me. He has severely damaged, if not permanently ruined, the Army of the Cumberland's supply line.

I will retain a defensive posture. Our men are brave, but tired, and we approach the potential of a reinforced Union as we move back towards our blessed Tennessee. We may face one more advance from the Union. However, it appears unlikely. It appears Atlanta and all its advantages will remain ours."

Davis leaned back as Sedden read these words. His hands were on his stomach. A smile crawled across his face slowly at first, and then to full blossom, as Sedden slid the telegram across his big oak desk for confirmation.

"This is indeed great news. Indeed. I know I have had my problems with Johnston. And my doubts. Heeding his words was the riskiest move of my presidency, and the riskiest for the sake of our freedoms."

"It is," Sedden said, standing ramrod straight before Davis.

"Mr. Benjamin, you are here too. I am sure with good reason."

The permanent, disarming smile was on Benjamin's Jewish face. He bowed his head slightly.

"Mr. President, I think it is now clear to all of us. We have had our hands around the throat of DC for several months now. The Northern newspapers say there is blood in the streets about Lincoln's decisions over time. And his gamble in the South, his attempt to win back morale, has failed him greatly, pending a last ditch effort."

All three men stood in silence briefly.

"It is clear to me that there is no way Abraham Lincoln will remain as President of the United States," Benjamin said with a smile now in his voice.. "It is clear to me that we start planning for another theater of war. For when he loses, we will be petitioned to end the war itself. My British contacts have informed me they have indeed began to discuss the many benefits that come with recognition, and how they outweigh their discontent with slavery."

"We won the war, President Davis," Benjamin boasted. "Now it is time for us to win the peace as well."
 
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HARTFORD, JULY, 1864

The front rooms of Brewster’s Pub, tucked in an alley off of Main Street in Hartford were bustling and loud, filled with loud conversation and fast women. It was a festive place, a place for drinks and laughter, even in a time of awful news. Much of the front room had known people who had not just fought in the war, but were lost in the war. It was from these streets -- the slums of Hartford and Bridgeport and the farms of the surrounding small towns -- where many of the soldiers were picked and thrown into battle in what was, no matter what the legal definition, foreign soil.

The dark-toned back room was quieter, as rooms that tend to be the seat where decisions are made. It was in this room where former Connecticut Governor Thomas Seymour had spent considerable time hatching out his many ideas and plots that made him one of the most successful politicians in Empire State history.

He was at his customary backseat when, entering the room hurriedly, was his guest, on the short list of most talked about men in the country, noted Ohio firebrand Clement Vallandingham.

Vallandingham, wearing lawyerly garb with a hat that perhaps masked his face from the masses, sat down. The two men were familiar with each other, as both were strident Peace Democrats, but were not considered close. A waiter came rushing with a whiskey for the Ohioan and water for the Governor as the two shook hands.

“Governour Seymour,” Vallandingham said as he took off his cap. “I have news about Horatio.”

Thomas sat with rapt attention. His namesake, or no relation, in the neighboring state of New York was a powerful figure in the Democratic Party. His name had recently been floated as a potential presidential candidate due to the recent disappointments with George McClellan.

“He will decline the nomination,” Vallandingham said in a quiet tone that did not match his blustery public oratory. Thomas sat perked up. He had thrown his name in the hat as a nominee but had been bland about his chances.

“It is a shame. He’s a man many thought would be a true alternative to McClellan,” Seymour said flatly.

McClellan was still a national war hero, whose reputation as a soldier had only gained as the Union lost considerably the past year. And Vallandingham knew this more than anyone.

The rascal had been the loudest Cooperhead for years, so much so that he had been expelled from the Union, handed to the Confederacy, exiled to Canada, and then returned only due to an outcry from the masses forced Lincoln’s hands.

Vallandingham nodded.

“He would have been a safe choice. He’s a Peace Democrat. A moderate. But he’s not one of us,” Vallandingham said. “He’s not a Copperhead.”

Seymour raised his drink and gulped his water.

Seymour sat with his hands cupped now and adjusted his posture.

“I know my position, Governor. I speak before thousands who, after my remarks are done, are filled with anger at our president. But, most importantly, our situation. And McClellan? He knows that the Union will not achieve the pipe dream victory,” Vallandingham said.

“He is trying to play both sides,” Seymour said glumly. “He wants to end the war but still believes the South will remain. He is foolish to believe that. If he wins the election, he will attempt to negotiate a truce, and will do so poorly that the General Lee will end up riding his horse straight down Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“McClellan has gotten cozy with me. And he’s gotten cozy with certain New York and Chicago newspapers,” Vallandingham said, before flexing his eyebrows. “Or so he thinks.”
Seymour smirked.

“I know the pulse. The Republicans are crushed. Lincoln faces no chance, and I swear on my mother’s grave that the Congressional races favor Democrats. The statehouses of our nation will all favor Democrats,” Vallandingham said. “And, in particular, those that agree with us. Or are Copperheads already.”

Seymour sipped his water and started at his cohort.

“All it will take, Governor, is for me to denounce McClellan. The newspaper publishers and editors have said they will follow me,” Vallandingham said. “Once I speak, he will stand no chance at the convention. He may even have the sense to step down from his attempt to win the nomination.”

“Mr. Vallandingham, I agree with all you say. You, more than anyone now, has the power and influence needed for this election,” Seymour said. “I am quite pleased to know that the nomination can tilt in our direction. The tides of this country are turning with each and every letter returned home to the mother of a now dead son. However, what to do with you? I know politicians of your ilk do not have these conversations without a request of a position.”


Vallandingham slammed his glass down after downing his drink and chuckled.

“I know my status, Governor. The nation may agree with me but the nation would never accept me as your vice-president,” he said. “Pendleton is a wonderful statesman. He is aligned with us, from Ohio, and is an agreeable sort. I do not wish to be on the ticket.”

Seymour smiled.

“Well, what is it?”

Vallandingham stood straight up.

“When you are elected president, I ask that you consider me as your Secretary of State,” he said poised. “I believe Congress will be friendly enough to all our suggestions and, despite my controversial history, will see that I am indeed the person best to lend our President his ear and voice as we face this tumultuous time ahead of us trying to reconcile with the Confederacy.


He then grabbed his cap, nodded goodbye, and left.
 
RICHMOND, JULY, 1984

President Jefferson Davis awaited nervously in the Confederate White House.

This war had been going on for a very long time indeed! Also, I suspect this may be evidence that the Confederacy really was in league with the Vampires after all! ;)
 
RICHMOND, AUGUST 3, 1864

Jubilation had run deep throughout the Confederacy over the past three weeks. The greys had braced themselves for Union reinforcements to move towards Tennessee where Sherman could attempt one last attempt to salvage the campaign. However, the northern newspapers reported that Sherman had been relieved of his duties by another, and that the federal armies were to return to Nashville. Johnston’s forces did not have to rush to reclaim Chattanooga. However, they did in order to enjoy the fruits of victory.

Davis’s eyes, as well as those as his trusted lieutenant Benjamin, were focused on two areas. The first was London, which their gazes could not find. An emissary from Richmond was in England and communications between the two were understandably slow. However, it was clear that England was in heated discussions about its place in the world, its source of resources it did not own nor produce, and its views on slavery. The last communications said that English diplomats were glad to see the Confederacy not invade Washington or attack any northern cities despite the ability to do so.

Their sterner gaze was affixed north.

Benjamin’s permanent smile now lasted forever. With the Union fractured and Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia in Maryland, it was easy for him to receive news items of importance. Every northern newspaper printed could arrive in his fingertips in a day or two; just one or two years ago, it could be weeks before a copy of a New York newspaper arrived in his fingers. But now, access to the news of the day, in particular commentary on the upcoming Democratic convention, was of daily importance.

He walked into Davis’s office for his customarily daily meeting and showed him the headline.

“MCCLELLAN UNFIT TO SERVE” it read in a font large enough for an elderly blind woman to see.

Davis stared at it for a second.

“Interesting. Is this a Republican ploy?”

Benjamin chuckled. “No chance,” he said. With its capital under siege and armies vanquished, no one paid any attention to the Republican campaign. Lincoln, as a man of pragmatism, realized his lame duck status already. Travel was restricted for him anyways, making it impossible to campaign on his behalf or those of his party members. It was clear the Democrats would win every major election in a route.

“Maybe we shouldn’t prepare for McClellan after all,” Benjamin said. “A handful of other papers in Philadelphia, Chicago and Buffalo have all had similar editorials appear today.”

Davis took notice. McClellan was expected as a shoe-in, as Lincoln’s longest running foe, yet a man also known to be stridently anti-Confederacy and someone who, no doubt, would appoint snarling dogs as his negotiators when it came time to finalize peace.

“Interesting,” he said. “Does Seymour now have a chance?”

Davis and Benjamin did not consider Seymour much of a candidate; no had, actually. But with several important newspapers now rallying against McClellan, it was clear his stock had gained.

“It appears he may. And the end of the month in Chicago should be very entertaining,” Benjamin said. “With any luck, the Peace Democrats will sweep the elections. And, per chance, we may end up with some smiling faces across the negotiating table from us.”

Davis turned to the map behind him.

“Maybe we should start to reconsider how this is drawn behind us,” the president said firmly, before heading back to his paperwork.
 
RICHMOND August 18, 1864

Davis and Benjamin awaited in the President’s office for a most curious request for a visit. They weren’t quite sure if it was reality or not, actually.

They stood as Clement Vallandingham entered with a warm smile.

“It’s nice to meet your acquaintance, Mr. Benjamin,” he said to the curious Secretary of State. “And it’s good to see you again, Mr. Davis.”

They nodded and sat down.

“You’re certainly the headline maker,” Benjamin said, nodding to the previous day’s Baltimore Sun, which broadcast a headline about Vallandingham’s speech to 20,000 the previous day, the third speech in a row where he ridiculed McClellan and vociferously endorsed Seymour as president.

He chuckled with his frontier accent.

“Indeed I have been. It makes it hard for me to conceal myself even in enemy territory,” he said. “But a man of means always has a way of crossing a border of dispute.”

“Or a man in danger,” Davis said, sternly. Famously, Vallandingham had been in the Confederacy just two years earlier. Lincoln, using the fullest grip of his powers, had finally had enough of the Ohioan and his constant remarks. He had been captured and turned over to the Confederacy. There, they did not know what to do with him. He famously stated he was an American citizen and wanted to be considered a prisoner of war.

Davis met him briefly, when trying to find ways to accommodate a man he assumed to be mad. However, Vallandingham was able to leave for Bermuda, and then Canada, before his Cooperhead attacks soon became the tenor of the day, gaining traction with each miserable Union defeat.

Vallandingham nodded and laughed. “I am not in danger these days,” he said. “In fact, I would suggest that I am a man of power.”

Benjamin’s hands were on his lap as he smirked.

“I was not sure how the attacks on McClellan unfolded. But now I assume to understand that you are the man attempting to steal the election from him,” he asked.

Vallandingham stood, his arms behind his back.

“Mr. Davis and Mr. Benjamin. The crowds that have seen me have only grown over the past few months. I am now accustomed to speaking before tens of thousands. Thousands who do not wish hostilities. Who never did wish hostilities. Who do not want to send their sons to an early grave in order to fulfill Abe Lincoln’s dreams of freedom for men not of their color.”

He now stood behind his chair.

“The only reason our constant uprisings have stopped is because our boys are no longer limping home missing limbs. But people are angry. They are upset. And they are starting to realize what I have said all along is truth,” he said with great force in his voice. “They are starting to realize that are only a handful of men alive who understand the reality of the situation and what it must take for us to broker a lasting peace.”

Davis contemplated Vallandingham’s words.

“And am I to take it, Mr. Vallandingham, that you will be the one to broker peace with us?”

Vallandingham flashed a toothy smile and returned to his seat.

“Seymour has agreed to appoint me as Secretary of State in exchange for his endorsement.”

Davis and Benjamin exchanged curious looks. This was notable, to say the least.

“I do not believe it to be a problem. Only a handful of Republicans will remain in the House. Their ranks will be narrowed in the Senate significantly,” Vallandingham said. “I don’t imagine even the radicals will bellow their big mouths, not with a man who lives a half mile from Charles Sumner swearing to be the next Preston Brooks.”

Davis could not help but chuckle at that memory.

“The statehouses are filled with men who see things my way. They’re the ones who actually have to comfort the mothers and fathers and siblings of the dead. They’re the ones who have to find a way to keep family farms afloat with so many gone,” as he continued his rant.

Benjamin almost raised his hand like he was a school child.

“You do realize you could have risked everything by visiting with us today? Your enemies have described you as nothing short of traitorous,” Benjamin said pointedly.

Vallandingham pursed his lips.

“The Union is in such disarray that I do not fear getting caught,” he said. “And I am glad the issue of my ‘treason’ has been broached.”

He now sat in his seat, opposite the two Confederates.

“I started my crusade based on passionate beliefs. But there is a certain personal vindication I am after now. I am only human,” he said. “I have been slandered. I was placed in exile. I have been harassed and attacked by my own countrymen. King Lincoln claims to be the voice of the free man. I dare say otherwise, with the amount of times I have personally feared for my own safety.”

“Obviously, his humiliation these past few months has been delicious to see unfold,” Vandallingham said. “However, I want to twist the knife further. I don’t want him to be remembered for just losing the Civil War. I want him to every day wake up and realize just how far he has fallen.”

Davis and Benjamin still did not know what to make of the man and this visit.

“Three years ago, I was brought to the Confederacy against my will and proclaimed myself a member of the Union,” he said. “Today, I come to tell you both something else.”


Benjamin placed his hands in steepled fingers, leaning back with anticipation. Davis had his hands behind his head.

“Today I came to tell you that I consider myself a resident of the Union States in name only, despite my known status and eventual position representing the government in all international affairs.”

He took a deep pause.

“I came today to personally pledge my full and complete allegiance and loyalty to the Confederate States of America,” he said with his hand over his heart, the Dixie flag stationed behind Davis.

Benjamin and Davis both could not believe what they heard, staring at this man in their office. The usually cool Benjamin fidgeted and stared at Davis, who soon smirked.

“Your loyalty is appreciated infinitely, Mr. Vallandingham,” Davis said. “I am not sure of this full legality of the moment. But I do not sense there will be any immediate objections in the room.”

The Ohioan, sensing what was coming, had a chuckle on his face.

“With the powers bestowed upon me as the President of the Confedrate States of America, it is my honor to swear you in as its latest citizen.”

Vallandingham stood posture straight, knowing his betrayal was complete. Benjamin watched the spectacle beaming.

“Thank you, Mr. President.”

The President turned to Benjamin, who was watching the spectacle beaming.

“Mr. Benjamin, I have deigns to appoint this man to a covert position in our government. The position I seek to assign him is in your department. The title I wish to give him is ‘Special Assistant to the Secretary of State in Affairs with the Union States.’ Is this permissible?”

Benjamin let the words sink in. He had his leg crossed but unfurled it, placing both feet on the floor. His hands were pinned to the side of the chair, crafted decades ago and given to Davis as a gift for his military service.

“It is permissible to me if the gentleman believes himself willing to serve in this capacity.”

Vallandingham stood and smiled. He understood the situation here. The battles had been fierce. The President and Secretary were humans, just as he, wanting to enjoy some fruits to their victories. Being the person to hand this to him was an honor.

“It is with honor and pride that I accept the role of the Special Assistant to the Secretary of State.”

Benjamin thought about his next words briefly.

"Then I look forward to working with the gentleman who seems more than fit and capable to exercise the orders this office and I personally shall assign him."

The words flowed over Benjamin as if it was his wedding day. Benjamin could not hide his gloating smile. The likely next Secretary of State of the United States was not just an agent of the Confederacy. He was now his official and direct subordinate. Negotiations would be in name only.

“Well, Mr. Vallandingham. I am glad someone born in a northern state has sense,” Davis said, prompting Benjamin to laugh.

“Indeed I do,” he said.

“It will certainly be refreshing to know that with any luck that in a few short months the man opposite me on the negotiating table is actually someone who shares my beliefs,” Benjamin said.

Vallandingham smirked.

“I don’t just share your beliefs, Secretary Benjamin,” he said. “The greatest vengeance I can give to Lincoln is by ensuring the map and terms you envision are the ones brought to fruition.”

Vallandingham grabbed his cap and tipped it.

“Nightfall is approaching and I must return North,” he said. “I have a speech to make tomorrow evening in Philadelphia. An estimated 30,000 may be in attendance. Thank you for your time and consideration, Secretary Benjamin, and Mr. President. I am eager to serve this office to the fullest of my capabilities.”

The door shut. Benjamin turned towards Davis, both with eyes wide open in shock. Benjamin then let out a hearty chuckle, slapping his knee and nearly falling out of the chair.

“Who would have believed it, Judah,” he said, pointing to the map behind him. “It looked as if our independence would never come and, if it did, we would have to scrap for every inch of soil. But now we will be able to pick and choose what states will be grey.”

Benjamin rose to his feet.

“I feel like a toast is in order, Mr. President,” he said. “It’s not every day of your life when you hear that the prospective Secretary of State of the nation you just defeated in a bitter war has sworn to serve as your pet.”
 
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I like this TL so far, but there are a few things bugging me.

I am curious to know how the Confederates won at Gettysburg - which is an extreme long-shot, and also how exactly they are really going to surround the most heavily fortified place in the northern hemisphere.

Another thing is that i am surprised that the Peace Democrats could win. I mean, the Democratic Party is divied into Peace and War Democrats and they would all have to retreat back into the Peace Democratic fold, never mind that the actual other 50-60% of the party is in the southern seceded states.
 
I like this TL so far, but there are a few things bugging me.

I am curious to know how the Confederates won at Gettysburg - which is an extreme long-shot, and also how exactly they are really going to surround the most heavily fortified place in the northern hemisphere.

Another thing is that i am surprised that the Peace Democrats could win. I mean, the Democratic Party is divied into Peace and War Democrats and they would all have to retreat back into the Peace Democratic fold, never mind that the actual other 50-60% of the party is in the southern seceded states.

1) I'm not a "war mechanic" so I don't know beyond how they almost won to start with. But from my knowledge, it would make sense that a heavily deserted AOTP would retreat south and then face destruction there.

2) It's a "loose siege" and more of a political tool than an actual military tactic. They're essentially harassing DC, but anyone with means (the functioning government) has to travel in and out via the river. The local populace more has to live with occasional artillery shelling done to make them remember the presence of the CSA in their backyard.

The larger play is that newspapers in the north will constantly report on the "siege" of DC. This plays on the fears of the north, especially as their returning soldiers return home in defeat. Literacy is nowhere near as high as it is now; thus making much of the population dependent on the rumor mill. In addition, a lack of travel access means most of the population has no idea what DC actually looks like geographically. The learned classes may know the situation ("They're not big enough to surround or take the city") but they're also the class of people the average citizen is enraged at.

You and I know it's a siege that would not work. But the general pauper who lives in Newark, New Jersey in 1864 thinks it would work.

In addition, it also helps with statesmanship in terms of lobbying the British for help. The British understand that Lee could march the troops towards more populated areas where the ANV could cause massive destruction --ala Sherman's march -- in hopes to foster a peace. But the British see the "responsibility" of the Confederacy as they have the north near its mercy. This goes a long way in their diplomats being able to look the other way when discussing recognition when the slavery debate arises.
 
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