“All these circumstances point but to one conclusion: Either this war must be brought to an end, or the time will at last come when the South may claim its own recognition by foreign nations as an independent power. The precedents of the American colonies, of the Spanish colonies, of Belgium, and of Tuscany, and of Naples the other day, forbid us to question this right when asserted by the Confederate States. It is our duty to anticipate this possible event, and it may be wise, as well as generous, for statesmen on this side of the ocean to approach the American Government in a friendly spirit, with the offer of their good offices, at this great crisis of its fortunes.”
If such a statement of the question was just and truthful, when a numerous and confident army, under a leader of proven skill, was engaged in close siege of the capital of the Confederacy, how much more unanswerable were its conclusions when McClellan was defeated? What were the evidences of “force and consistency” demanded after the combined armies of McClellan and Pope were hurled back upon the Potomac; after Bragg had forced Buell to the Ohio; and when Fredericksburg had crowned six months of success with a victory that inevitably imposed a defensive attitude upon the North during the entire winter?
When Chancellorsville inflicted a defeat, the most decisive and humiliating of the war, upon the North, there was indeed no longer even a pretext, by which could be disguised the evident purpose of England not to interfere in behalf of a cause with which she had no sympathy, whatever her constrained respect for its champions and defenders. The loss of Vicksburg and Gettysburg in the ensuing summer, so productive of distrust in Europe of the Confederate cause, was quickly followed by developments which dispelled nearly all remaining hope of that recognition which it was equally the right of the Confederacy to hope, and the duty of Europe to render.
The attitude of the Confederate Government, in its relations with European governments, was ever one of imposing dignity. President Davis contented himself with calm and statesman-like presentation of the claims of the cause which he represented. His unanswerable exposition of the position of the Confederacy, and lucid discussions of international jurisprudence, never took the semblance of supplication, and were accompanied by dignified remonstrance, even, only when it became evident that the Confederacy was excluded from the benefits of that policy which the laws of nations and every precedent demanded. Hope of foreign assistance unquestionably constituted a large share of that confidence of success which, until the later stages of the war, continued to animate the South. Her people hoped for foreign aid in some shape, because they were confident of their ability to demonstrate their right to it; and they expected it only when they had demonstrated that right. But never was there any abatement or relaxation of effort by the Confederate Government because of this just right and expectation. In the midst of the most cheering events, and when recognition appeared certain, President Davis declared his conviction of the necessity of such effort as should secure independence without aid from any quarter. In his address to the Mississippi Legislature, December, 1862, from which we have already quoted, he said:
“In the course of this war our eyes have been often turned abroad. We have expected sometimes recognition and sometimes intervention at the hands of foreign nations, and we had a right to expect it. Never before, in the history of the world, had a people so long a time maintained their ground, and showed themselves capable of maintaining their national existence, without securing the recognition of commercial nations. I know not why this has been so, but this I say, ‘Put not your trust in princes,’ and rest not your hopes on foreign nations. This war is ours; we must fight it out ourselves; and I feel some pride in knowing that, so far, we have done it without the good-will of any body.”
It seems, indeed, difficult to explain the course of Europe, especially of England and France, in the American war, upon any hypothesis consistent with either courage, humanity, or the usages of nations. Delay, caution, and attendance upon results were becoming in the beginning; but, after the defeat of McClellan upon the Chickahominy, and, still more, at the close of operations in 1862, they were no longer exacted by moral obligation or international comity. Having all the attributes of an independent power—a power at war with a neighbor, assailed by its armies, blockaded by its fleets, as had been numerous other independent powers—there was nothing whatever anomalous in the situation of the Confederate States forbidding the practice of plain justice towards them. Recognition was not only warranted by the facts of the case, but by immemorial usage in Europe, especially by the apposite precedent of the separation of Belgium from Holland. The existence of slavery in the South, even though sanctioned by law and the religious convictions of her people, is an altogether insufficient explanation of a policy which has exposed the European great powers to the suspicion of having been actuated by the most unworthy motives.
Especially does the course of England seem indefensible towards a people, with whom the war developed so much of common instinct, so many appeals of sympathy and evidences of identity with herself—a people whose ancestors were the uncompromising enemies of regicides, and had maintained their loyalty to the crown of England in spite of the power and threats of Cromwell, whose Puritan dominion New England acknowledged.
The injustice of England did not end with her refusal of recognition. In the beginning she promptly proclaimed “strict neutrality,” and her Premier declared the Confederates “belligerents.” This phrase, apparently a just concession of the declared independence of the South, was gratefully acknowledged by a struggling people, and evoked the fierce indignation of the North. It was, however, designedly ambiguous, and to be interpreted, philologically and practically, as the prospects of the controversy or the wishes of the Palmerston cabinet might dictate. The English cabinet did not necessarily mean a recognition of a divided sovereignty, justifying suspension of relations with both sections, until the question of sovereignty should be settled. The phrase “belligerents” was subsequently declared to mean, merely, that the “two sections were at war”—a fact which the participants felt to have already had ocular demonstration. Meanwhile, relations between London and Washington were not interrupted, and commercial intercourse continued as before. But England not only ignored the South, and denied the Confederate commissioners a formal and official audience—her vessels respected the Federal blockade, while Confederate vessels were warned from her coasts. Such is only a limited statement of features which made “English neutrality” the broadest farce and severest irony of the age.[58]
Early in 1863, or late in 1862, the Emperor Napoleon proposed to England to join France and other powers in a joint mediation, to suggest an armistice and a conference. This humane proposition England refused, declining to take any step which might aid pacification, and thus did both North and South finally comprehend what was meant by the “duty and policy” of that power, which had so industriously propagated American dissensions for her own aggrandizement. An editorial in the Richmond Enquirer, written, probably, by John Mitchel, pithily described the motives of England in the remark: “In short, the North is not yet bankrupt enough, the South not yet desolated enough, to suit the ‘policy’ of England.” France saved her reputation, upon the score of humanity and justice, by evincing at least a right disposition, though it is difficult to reconcile her continued dalliance upon England, respecting the American question, with that bold policy, which usually characterizes the great master of European diplomacy. France had, however, less of interest and of expectation than England, from the dissolution of the Union; less motive for desiring its downfall, and the exhaustion of both combatants.
Such, however, was the policy, adhered to by England and France, in defiance of legal and moral obligation, and to the mortal injury of the South, in her brave and defiant struggle with that power, which history may yet declare, the “great powers” of Europe dared not defy.