detail. Suffice it to say that the papers were sold to the United
States; that the secret was exposed; that the United States made
a determined assault upon the Imperial Government. In the midst
of this entanglement, Slidell lost his head, for hope deferred
when apparently within reach of its end is a dangerous councilor
of state. In his extreme anxiety, Slidell sent to the Emperor a
note the blunt rashness of which the writer could not have
appreciated. Saying that he feared the Emperor's subordinates
might play into the hands of Washington, he threw his fat in the
fire by speaking of the ships as "now being constructed at
Bordeaux and Nantes for the government of the Confederate States"
and virtually claimed of Napoleon a promise to let them go to
sea. Three days later the Minister of Foreign Affairs took him
sharply to task because of this note, reminding him that "what
had passed with the Emperor was confidential" and dropping the
significant hint that France could not be forced into war by
"indirection." According to Slidell's version of the interview
"the Minister's tone changed completely" when Slidell replied
with "a detailed history of the affair showing that the idea
originated with the Emperor." Perhaps the Minister knew more than
he chose to betray. From this hour the game was up. Napoleon's
purpose all along seems to have been quite plain. He meant to
help the South to win by itself, and, after it had won, to use it
for his own advantage. So precarious was his position in Europe
that he dared not risk an American war without England's aid, and
England had cast the die. In this way, secrecy was the condition
necessary to continued building of the ships. Now that the secret
was out, Napoleon began to shift his ground. He sounded the
Washington Government and found it suspiciously equivocal as to
Mexico. To silence the French republicans, to whom the American