A Heterophemist
March 6, 1897
Summary
The Chicago Times-Herald recounts the story of a messenger for the Confederacy that fails in his mission.
Transcription
The Southern Confederacy was only a few month old when a financial agent was sent to England on a very important mission. Mr. Blank was a politician and a banker. He was also an elegant gentleman, with many influential, acquaintances on both sides of the water.
Before leaving Richmond, he had a long talk with Memminger, the secretary of the treasury.
“If I find that England will aid us,” he said, “I will send you word by some reliable blockade runner. It will be a very brief message, but you will understand it, while it will mean nothing to the enemy if it should be intercepted.”
The confidential agent slipped through the lines, and in less than a month was comfortably established in London. In the metropolis, he found many southerners and many prominent Englishmen who sympathized with the secessionists. He saw Mr. Yancey, the Confederate minister, every day, and the two worked together in harmony. Mr. Yancey was a practical man and was not long in coming to the conclusions that no aid was to be expected from the British government.
“The abolition sentiment controls here,” he said to Mr. Black. “Some of the statesmen would like to help the south in order to break up the Union, but the people will never consent. The south will have to fight alone.”
Blank felt pretty blue when he heard this, and that night he wrote the single word “successful” on a thin slip of parchment and skillfully secreted it in an ordinary coat button. The next day he was visited by a southern friend, who remained with hum for an hour or more. During his stay, he removed the top button from his coat and sewed on one given by Mr. Blank.
“I understand it all,” he said when he left. “If I get safely to Wilmington, I will go at once to Richmond and give this button to Mr. Memminger. I prefer not to know the nature of the message, as you say that it explains itself.”
“Yes,” replied Blank, “it will be understood by the secretary, and as it refers to a state secret I cannot say anything about it.”
The two shook hands, and the gentleman with the precious button took the next train for Liverpool, where he boarded a steamer bound for Wilmington.
The steamer was chased by Federal cruisers, but she managed to reach her destination without any serious mishap. In the course of two or three days the mysterious traveler called on Mr. Memminger in Richmond and presented him with a button. The secretary cut of its covering in a hurry and smiled when he read the word “successful.”
“Did Mr. Blank show this message to you?” he asked.
“No. We both thought it best that I should remain in ignorance so that no telltale expression of my face would betray anything if the enemy captured me.”
At a meeting of the cabinet that afternoon Mr. Memminger was in high spirits. He predicted that the war would be over in 90 days and said that England was preparing to recognize the Confederacy and send over her warships to break the blockade.
“I have this,” he said, “from my confidential agent, Mr. Blank.”
The name commanded respect, and when the secretary said that under the circumstances a loan of $15,000,000 negotiated in Europe would be sufficient everybody agreed with him. The weeks rolled on, and Erlanger in Paris Advertised for bids for $15,000,000 in Confederate bonds. Mr. Blank read this at his London hotel and dropped his paper in agitation.
“Well, I’ll be d––––d!” he remarked. “Must be a mistake. I’ll run over and see about it.”
The next day he was at Erlanger’s office in Paris. The French banker informed his visitor that there was no mistake, and then Blank swore vigorously. The bids rushed in from all quarters. If the demands of these spectators had met, $500,000,000 in Confederate bonds it could have been sold. When this became known, Mr. Blank again relapsed into profanity.
He could not stand it, and, despite the danger of the trip, he made his arrangements to return home. His interview with Memminger was a stormy one when he arrived at Richmond.
“I intended to write ‘unsuccessful!’” he said after a long talk.
“Well, there is your message,” replied the secretary. “You wrote ‘successful.’”
“I don’t understand it,” said Mr. Blank sadly. “Surely your advices from Mr. Yancey should have warned you that there was something wrong.”
“His dispatches were intercepted,” answered the other.
“I don’t understand it,” repeated Mr. Blank
“Perhaps I do,” quietly remarked the secretary. “I have carefully noted your talk this morning, and I have discovered that you are a heterophemist. For instance, you say London when you mean Richmond and Richmond when you mean London. You similarly misuse the names of other places and persons and are unconscious of it. When you sent me that message, the word ‘unsuccessful’ was in your mind, but, being heterophemist, you wrote the opposite word and ruined the Confederacy.”
“I may have made a mistake, sir,” said Mr. Blank, rising from his chair, “but I am neither a lunatic nor an idiot. I have the honor to bid you good morning.”
Heterophemy is a fatal thing in diplomacy. ––Chicago Times-Herald.
Before leaving Richmond, he had a long talk with Memminger, the secretary of the treasury.
“If I find that England will aid us,” he said, “I will send you word by some reliable blockade runner. It will be a very brief message, but you will understand it, while it will mean nothing to the enemy if it should be intercepted.”
The confidential agent slipped through the lines, and in less than a month was comfortably established in London. In the metropolis, he found many southerners and many prominent Englishmen who sympathized with the secessionists. He saw Mr. Yancey, the Confederate minister, every day, and the two worked together in harmony. Mr. Yancey was a practical man and was not long in coming to the conclusions that no aid was to be expected from the British government.
“The abolition sentiment controls here,” he said to Mr. Black. “Some of the statesmen would like to help the south in order to break up the Union, but the people will never consent. The south will have to fight alone.”
Blank felt pretty blue when he heard this, and that night he wrote the single word “successful” on a thin slip of parchment and skillfully secreted it in an ordinary coat button. The next day he was visited by a southern friend, who remained with hum for an hour or more. During his stay, he removed the top button from his coat and sewed on one given by Mr. Blank.
“I understand it all,” he said when he left. “If I get safely to Wilmington, I will go at once to Richmond and give this button to Mr. Memminger. I prefer not to know the nature of the message, as you say that it explains itself.”
“Yes,” replied Blank, “it will be understood by the secretary, and as it refers to a state secret I cannot say anything about it.”
The two shook hands, and the gentleman with the precious button took the next train for Liverpool, where he boarded a steamer bound for Wilmington.
The steamer was chased by Federal cruisers, but she managed to reach her destination without any serious mishap. In the course of two or three days the mysterious traveler called on Mr. Memminger in Richmond and presented him with a button. The secretary cut of its covering in a hurry and smiled when he read the word “successful.”
“Did Mr. Blank show this message to you?” he asked.
“No. We both thought it best that I should remain in ignorance so that no telltale expression of my face would betray anything if the enemy captured me.”
At a meeting of the cabinet that afternoon Mr. Memminger was in high spirits. He predicted that the war would be over in 90 days and said that England was preparing to recognize the Confederacy and send over her warships to break the blockade.
“I have this,” he said, “from my confidential agent, Mr. Blank.”
The name commanded respect, and when the secretary said that under the circumstances a loan of $15,000,000 negotiated in Europe would be sufficient everybody agreed with him. The weeks rolled on, and Erlanger in Paris Advertised for bids for $15,000,000 in Confederate bonds. Mr. Blank read this at his London hotel and dropped his paper in agitation.
“Well, I’ll be d––––d!” he remarked. “Must be a mistake. I’ll run over and see about it.”
The next day he was at Erlanger’s office in Paris. The French banker informed his visitor that there was no mistake, and then Blank swore vigorously. The bids rushed in from all quarters. If the demands of these spectators had met, $500,000,000 in Confederate bonds it could have been sold. When this became known, Mr. Blank again relapsed into profanity.
He could not stand it, and, despite the danger of the trip, he made his arrangements to return home. His interview with Memminger was a stormy one when he arrived at Richmond.
“I intended to write ‘unsuccessful!’” he said after a long talk.
“Well, there is your message,” replied the secretary. “You wrote ‘successful.’”
“I don’t understand it,” said Mr. Blank sadly. “Surely your advices from Mr. Yancey should have warned you that there was something wrong.”
“His dispatches were intercepted,” answered the other.
“I don’t understand it,” repeated Mr. Blank
“Perhaps I do,” quietly remarked the secretary. “I have carefully noted your talk this morning, and I have discovered that you are a heterophemist. For instance, you say London when you mean Richmond and Richmond when you mean London. You similarly misuse the names of other places and persons and are unconscious of it. When you sent me that message, the word ‘unsuccessful’ was in your mind, but, being heterophemist, you wrote the opposite word and ruined the Confederacy.”
“I may have made a mistake, sir,” said Mr. Blank, rising from his chair, “but I am neither a lunatic nor an idiot. I have the honor to bid you good morning.”
Heterophemy is a fatal thing in diplomacy. ––Chicago Times-Herald.
About this article
Source
Location on Page
Lower Left Quadrant
Topic
Contributed By
Brian Schrott
Citation
“A Heterophemist,” Black Virginia: The Richmond Planet, 1894-1909, accessed April 24, 2025, https://blackvirginia.richmond.edu/items/show/1132.