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!”
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]