Part 4

Such are the words of Burlamaqui, in his work on Political Law, quoted with approbation by Phillimore, in his work on the Law of Nations.[44] Unless these words are discarded as “a maxim,” while the early precedent of British demand upon us is also rudely rejected, it is difficult to see how the British Government can avoid the consequences of complicity with the pirate ships in all their lawless devastation. I forbear to dwell on this accumulating liability, amounting already to many millions of dollars, with accumulating exasperations also. My present object is accomplished, if I make you see which way danger lies.

(13.) Beyond acts and words, this same British _rabbia_ shows itself in the official tone towards the national cause in its unparalleled struggle, especially throughout the correspondence of the British Foreign Office. There is little friendship in any of these letters. Nor is there any sympathy with the national championship against Rebel Slavery, nor even one word of mildest dissent from the miscreant apocalypse preached in its behalf. Naturally the tone is in harmony with the sentiment. Hard, curt, captious, cynical, it evinces indifference to that kindly intercourse which nations ought to cultivate with each other, and which should be the study of a wise statesmanship. The Malay _runs amuck_, and such is the British diplomatic style in dealing with us. This is painfully conspicuous in all that concerns the pirate ships. But I can well understand that a Secretary conceding belligerent rights to Rebel Slavery so easily, and then so easily permitting its ships to sally forth for piracy, would be very indifferent to the tone of what he wrote. And yet, even outrage may be soothed or softened by gentle words; but none such come out of British diplomacy to us. Most deeply do I regret this too suggestive failure. And believe me, fellow-citizens, I say these things with sorrow unspeakable, and only in discharge of my duty, when, face to face, I meet you to consider the aspects of our affairs abroad.

(14.) There is still another head of danger, in which all others culminate. I refer to intrusive mediation, or, it may be, recognition of the Slavemonger attempt as an independent nation,--for such movements have been made openly in Parliament and urged constantly by the British press, and, though not yet adopted by her Majesty’s Government, have never been repelled on principle, so that they constitute a perpetual cloud threatening to break. It is plain to all who have not forgotten history, that England never can be guilty of such recognition without unpardonable apostasy; nor can she intervene by way of mediation, except in the interests of Freedom. And yet such are the “elective affinities” newly born between England and Slavery, such is the wilful blindness with regard to our country, kindred to that which prevailed in the time of George Grenville and Lord North, that her Majesty’s Government, instead of repelling the proposition, simply adjourn it, adopting meanwhile the attitude of one watching to strike. The British Minister at Washington, of model prudence, whose individual desire for peace I cannot doubt, tells his Government, in a despatch found in the last Blue Book, that as yet he sees no sign of “a conjuncture at which foreign powers _may step in with propriety_ and effect to put a stop to the effusion of blood.”[45] Here is the plain assumption that such conjuncture may occur. For the present we are left free to wage the battle against Slavery without any such intervention in arrest of the national efforts.

Such are some of the warnings which lower from the English sky arching the graves of Wilberforce and Clarkson, while sounding above these sacred resting-places are heard strange, un-English voices, crying out: “Come unto us, Rebel Slavemongers, whippers of women and sellers of children!--for you are the people of our choice, whom we welcome promptly to _ocean rights_, with Armstrong guns and _naval expeditions_ equipped in our ports, and on whom we lavish sympathy always and the prophecy of success; while for you who uphold the Republic and oppose Slavery we have hard words, criticism, rebuke, and the menace of war!”

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Crossing the Channel into France, we are not encouraged much. And yet the Emperor, though acting habitually in concert with the British Cabinet, has not intermeddled so illogically or displayed a temper of so little international amiability. The correspondence under his direction, even at the most critical moments, leaves little to be desired in respect of form. Nor has there been a single blockade-runner under the French flag, nor a single pirate ship from a French port. But, in spite of these things, it is too apparent that the Emperor has taken sides against us in at least four important public acts, positively, plainly, offensively. The Duc de Choiseul, Prime-Minister of France, was addressed by Frederick of Prussia as “Coachman of Europe,”--a title which belongs now to Louis Napoleon. But he must not try to be “coachman of America.”

(1.) Following the example of England, Louis Napoleon acknowledges the Rebel Slavemongers as _ocean_ belligerents, so that, with the sanction of France, our ancient ally, their pirate ships, although without a single open port which they can call their own, enjoy complete immunity as lawful cruisers, while all who sympathize with them furnish supplies and munitions of war. This fatal concession was aggravated by the concurrence of the two great powers. But, God be praised, their joint act, though capable of giving brief vitality to Slavery on pirate decks, is impotent to confirm the intolerable pretension.

(2.) Sinister events are not alone, and this recognition of Slavery was followed by an expedition of France, in concurrence with England and Spain, against our neighbor Republic, Mexico. The two latter powers very soon withdrew, but the Emperor, less wise, did not hesitate at invasion. A French fleet, with an unmatched iron-clad,--the consummate product of French naval art,--is now at Vera Cruz, and the French army, after a protracted siege, has stormed Puebla and entered the famous capital. This far-reaching enterprise was originally declared to be nothing more than process, served by a general, for the recovery of outstanding debts due to French citizens. But the Emperor, in a mystic letter to General Forey, gives it another character. He proposes nothing less than the restoration of the Latin race on this side of the Atlantic, and more than intimates that the United States must be restrained in power and influence over the Gulf of Mexico and the Antilles. And now the Archduke Maximilian of Austria is proclaimed Emperor of Mexico under the protection of France. It is obvious that this imperial invasion, though only indirectly against us, would not have been made, if our convulsions had not left the door of the Continent ajar, so that foreign powers may bravely enter in. And it is more obvious that this attempt to plant a throne by our side would “have died before it saw the light,” had it not been supposed that Rebel Slavery was about to triumph.[46] Plainly the whole transaction is connected with our affairs. But it can be little more than a transient experiment; for who can doubt that this imperial exotic, planted by foreign care and propped by foreign bayonets, must disappear before the ascending glory of the Republic?

(3.) This enterprise of war was followed by an enterprise of diplomacy not less hardy. The Emperor, not content with stirring against us the Gulf of Mexico, the Antilles, and the Latin race, entered upon work of a different character. He invited England and Russia to unite with France in tendering to the two “belligerents” (such is the equal designation of our Republic and the embryo Slavemonger mockery!) a joint mediation to procure “an armistice for six months, during which every act of war, direct or indirect, should provisionally cease on sea as well as on land, to be renewed, if necessary, for a further period.” The Cabinets of England and Russia, better inspired, declined the invitation, which looked to little short of recognition itself. Under the proposed armistice, all our vast operations must have been suspended, the blockade itself must have ceased, while the Rebel ports were opened on the one side to unlimited supplies and military stores, and on the other to unlimited exports of cotton. Trade, for the time, would have been legalized in these ports, and Slavery would have lifted its grinning front before the civilized world. Not disheartened by this failure, the Emperor alone pushed forward his diplomatic enterprise against us, as alone he had pushed forward his military enterprise against Mexico, and presented to our Government the unsupported mediation of France. His offer was promptly rejected by the President. By solemn resolutions of both Houses, adopted with singular unanimity, and communicated since to all foreign governments, Congress announced that such a proposition could be attributed only to “a misunderstanding of the true state of the question, and of the real character of the war in which the Republic is engaged”; and that it was in its nature so far injurious to the national interests that Congress would be obliged to consider its repetition an unfriendly act.[47] This strong language frankly states the true position of our country. Any such offer, whatever its motive, must be an encouragement to the Rebellion. In an age when ideas prevail and even words become things, the simple declarations of statesmen are of incalculable importance. But the head of a great nation is more than statesman in such influence. The imperial proposition tended directly to the dismemberment of the Republic and the substitution of a ghastly Slavemonger nation.

Baffled in this effort twice attempted, the Emperor does not yet abandon his policy. We are told that it is “postponed to a more suitable opportunity”; so that he, too, waits to strike, if the Gallic cock does not sound alarm in an opposite quarter. Meanwhile the development of the Mexican expedition shows too clearly the motive of mediation. It was all one transaction. Mexico was invaded for empire, and mediation was proposed to help the plot. But the invasion must fail with the diplomacy to which it is allied.

(4.) The policy of the French Emperor towards our Republic is not left to uncertain inference. For a long time public report has pronounced him unfriendly, and now public report is confirmed by what he does and says. The ambassadorial attorney of Rebel Slavery is received at the Tuileries, members of Parliament on an errand of hostility to our cause are received at Fontainebleau, and the open declaration is made that the Emperor desires to recognize Rebel Slavery as an independent power. This is hard to believe, but it is too true. The French Emperor is against us. In an evil hour, under temptations which should be scouted, he forgets the precious traditions of France, whose blood commingled with ours in a common cause; he forgets the swords of Lafayette and Rochambeau, flashing side by side with the swords of Washington and the earlier Lincoln, while the lilies of the ancient monarchy floated together with the stars of our infant flag; he forgets that early alliance, sealed by Franklin, which gave to the Republic the assurance of national life, and made France the partner of her rising glory;--“_Heu pietas! heu prisca fides! Manibus date lilia plenis!_”--and he forgets still more the obligations of his own name,--how the first Napoleon surrendered to us Louisiana and the whole region west of the Mississippi, saying: “This accession of territory establishes forever the power of the United States, and gives to England a maritime rival destined to humble her pride”;[48] and he forgets, also, how he himself, when beginning intervention for Italian liberty, boasted proudly that France always stood for an “idea”; and forgetting these things, which mankind cannot forget, he seeks the disjunction of this Republic, with the spoliation of that very territory which came to us with such auspices, while France, always standing for an “idea,” stands, under the second Napoleon, for the “idea” of welcome to a new evangel of Slavery, with Mason and Slidell as the evangelists. Thus is imperial influence exerted for Rebel Slavemongers. The Emperor, for the present, forbears to fling his sword into the scale; but he flings his heavy hand, if not his sword.

Only recently we have the menace of the sword. The throne of Mexico is offered to an Austrian archduke. The desire to recognize the independence of Rebel Slavery is openly declared. These two incidents together are complements of each other. And now we are assured by concurring report, that Mexico is to be maintained as an empire. The policy of the Holy Alliance, originally organized against the great Napoleon, is adopted by his representative on the throne of France. What its despot authors left undone the present Emperor, nephew of the first, proposes to accomplish. Report informs us that Texas also is doomed to the imperial protectorate, thus ravishing a possession which belongs to this Republic as much as Normandy belongs to France.[49] The partition of Poland is acknowledged to be the great crime of the last century. It was accomplished by three powers, with the silent connivance of the rest, but not without pangs of remorse in one of the spoilers. “I know,” said Maria Theresa to the ambassador of Louis the Sixteenth, “that I have brought a deep stain on my reign by what has been done in Poland; but I am sure that I should be forgiven, if it could be known what repugnance I had to it.”[50] Here on this Continent the French Emperor seeks to play the very part which of old caused the contrition of Maria Theresa; nor could the partition of our broad country--if, in an evil hour, it were accomplished--fail to be the great crime of the present century. Trampler upon the Republic in France, trampler upon the Republic in Mexico, it remains to be seen if the French Emperor can prevail as trampler upon this Republic. I do not think he can; nor am I anxious on account of this new-found Emperor, who will be another King Canute against the rising tide of the American people. His chair must be withdrawn, or he will be overwhelmed.[51]

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Here I bring to an end this unpleasant review. It is with little satisfaction, and only in explanation of our relations with foreign powers, that I accumulate these instances, not one of which, small or great, is without its painful lesson, while they all testify with a single voice to the perils of our country.

II.

Another branch of the subject is not less important. Considering all these things, and especially how great powers abroad constantly menace intervention, now by criticism and then by proffer of mediation, all tending painfully to something further, it becomes us to see what, according to International Law and the examples of history, will justify foreign intervention, in any of the forms it may take. And here there is one remark to be made at the outset. Nations are equal in the eye of International Law, so that what is right for one is right for all. It follows that no nation can justly exercise any right which it is not bound to concede under like circumstances. Therefore, should our cases be reversed, there is nothing England and France now propose, or may hereafter propose, which it will not be our equal right to propose, when Ireland or India once more rebels, or when France is in the throes of its next revolution. Generously, and for the sake of that international comity not lightly hazarded, we may reject the precedents they furnish; but it will be difficult for them to complain, if we follow their steps.

Foreign intervention is, on its face, inconsistent with every idea of national independence, which in itself is the natural and acknowledged right of a nation to rest undisturbed so long as it does not disturb others. If nations stood absolutely alone, dissociated from each other, so that what passed in one had little or no influence in another, only a tyrannical or intermeddling spirit could fail to recognize this right. But civilization, drawing nations nearer together and into one society, brings them under reciprocal influence, so that no nation can now act or suffer alone. Out of the relations and suggestions of good neighborhood, involving the admitted right of self-defence, springs the only justification or apology to be found for _foreign intervention_, which is the general term to signify interposition in the affairs of another country, whatever form it may take. Much is done under the name of “good offices,” whether in the form of mediation or intercession,--and much also by military power, whether in the declared will of superior force or directly by arms. Recognition of independence is also another instance. Intervention in any form is interference. If peaceable, it must be judged by its motive and tendency; if forcible, it will naturally be resisted by force.

Intervention may be between two or more nations, or between the two parties to a civil war; and yet again, it may be where there is no war, foreign or domestic. In each case it is governed by the same principles, except, perhaps, that in the case of civil war there should be more careful consideration, not only of the rights, but of the susceptibilities of a nation so severely tried. Such is the obvious suggestion of humanity. Intervention between nations is only a common form of participation in foreign war, but intervention in a civil war is intermeddling in the domestic concerns of another nation. Whoever acts at the _joint invitation_ of belligerent parties to compose a bloody strife is entitled to the blessings which belong to the peacemakers; but, if uninvited, or acting at the invitation of one party only, he will be careful to proceed with reserve and tenderness, in the spirit of peace, and confining action to a proffer of good offices in the form of mediation or intercession, unless he is ready for war. Such proffer may be declined without offence. But it can never be forgotten, that, _where one side is obviously fighting for Barbarism_, any intervention, whatever form it takes,--if only by captious criticism, calculated to encourage the wrong side, or to secure for it time or temporary toleration, if not final success,--_is plainly immoral_. If not contrary to the Law of Nations, it ought to be.

Intervention in the spirit of peace and for the sake of peace belongs to the refinements of modern civilization. Intervention in the spirit of war, if not for the sake of war, has filled a large space in history, ancient and modern. But all these instances may be grouped under two heads: first, intervention in _external_ affairs; and, secondly, intervention in _internal_ affairs. The first is illustrated by the intervention of the Elector Maurice of Saxony against Charles the Fifth, of King William against Louis the Fourteenth, of Russia and France in the Seven Years’ War, of Russia again between France and Austria in 1805, and also between France and Prussia in 1806, and of France, Great Britain, and Sardinia between Turkey and Russia in the war of the Crimea.

The intervention of Russia, Austria, and Prussia in the affairs of Poland, of Great Britain among the native provinces of India, and of the Allied Powers in the French Revolution, under the continued inspiration of the Treaty of Pilnitz, are illustrations of the second head. Without dwelling on these great examples, I shall call attention to instances showing more especially the growth of intervention, first in external, and then in internal affairs. Here I shall conceal nothing. Instances seeming against the principles I have at heart will at least help illustrate the great subject, so that you may see it as it is.

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(1.) First in order, and for the sake of completeness, I speak of intervention in _external_ affairs, where two or more nations are parties.

As long ago as 1645, France offered mediation between what were then called “The Two Crowns of the North,” Sweden and Denmark. This was followed, in 1648, by the famous Peace of Westphalia, the beginning of our present Law of Nations, negotiated under the joint mediation of the Pope and the Republic of Venice, present by nuncio and ambassador. In 1655, the Emperor of Germany offered mediation between Sweden and Poland; but the old historian records that the Swedes suspected him of seeking to increase rather than to arrange pending difficulties; and the effort ended by the withdrawal of the imperial envoy into the Polish camp. Sweden, though often belligerent in those days, was not so always, and, in 1672, when war broke forth between France and England on one side and the Dutch Provinces on the other, we find her proffering mediation, which was promptly accepted by England, who justly rejected a similar proffer most hardily made by the Elector of Brandenburg, ancestor of the kings of Prussia, while marching at the head of his forces to join the Dutch. The English note on this occasion, written in what at the time was called “sufficiently bad French, but in very intelligible terms,” declared that the Electoral proffer, though under the pleasant name of mediation (_par le doux nom de médiation_), was adjudged to be only arbitration, and that, instead of mediation _unarmed and disinterested_, it was mediation armed and pledged to the enemies of England.[52]

Such are earlier instances, all of which have their lessons for us. There are modern, also. I allude only to the Triple Alliance, between Great Britain, Prussia, and Holland, which, at the close of the last century, successively intervened, by mediation which could not be resisted, to compel Denmark, while siding with Russia against Sweden, to remain neutral for the rest of the war,--then, in 1791, to dictate terms of peace between Austria and the Porte,--and lastly, in 1792, to constrain Russia into abandonment of her designs upon the Turkish Empire by the Peace of Jassy. On this occasion, the Russian Empress, Catharine the Second, peremptorily refused the mediation of Prussia, and the mediating Alliance made its approaches through Denmark, by whose good offices the Empress was finally induced to accept the treaty. While thus engaged in professed mediation, England, in a note to the French ambassador, declined to act as mediator between France and the Allied Powers, leaving that world-embracing war to proceed. Not only has England refused to act as mediator, but _also refused submission to mediation_. This was during the last war with the United States, when Russia, at that time the ally of England, proffered mediation between the two belligerents, which was promptly accepted by the United States. Its rejection by England, causing the prolongation of hostilities, was considered by Sir James Mackintosh less justifiable, as “a mediator is a common friend, who counsels both parties with a weight proportioned to their belief in his integrity and their respect for his power; but he is not an arbitrator, to whose decision they submit their differences, and whose award is binding on them.”[53] The Peace of Ghent was concluded at last under Russian mediation. But England has not always been belligerent. When Andrew Jackson menaced letters of marque against France, on account of failure to pay a sum stipulated in a recent treaty with the United States, King William the Fourth proffered mediation; but happily the whole question was already virtually arranged. It appears, also, that, before our war with Mexico, the good offices of England were tendered to the two parties; but neither was willing to accept them, and war took its course.