That French demagogue whom Victor Hugo aptly called Napoleon the Little
was a prime factor in the history of the Union and the Confederacy. The
Confederate side of his intrigue will be told in its proper place. Here,
let us observe him from the point of view of Washington.
It is too much to attempt to pack into a sentence or two the complicated
drama of deceit, lies, and graft, through which he created at last a
pretext for intervention in the affairs of Mexico; it is enough that in
the autumn of 1862 a French army of invasion marched from Vera Cruz upon
Mexico City. We have already seen that about this same time Napoleon
proposed to England and Russia a joint intervention with France between
North and South--a proposal which, however, was rejected. This Mexican
venture explains why the plan was suggested at that particular time.
Disappointed in England and Russia, Napoleon unexpectedly received
encouragement, as he thought, from within the United States through the
medium of the eccentric editor of the "New York Tribune". We shall
have occasion to return later to the adventures of Horace Greeley--that
erratic individual who has many good and generous acts to his credit, as
well as many foolish ones. For the present we have to note that toward
the close of 1862 he approached the French Ambassador at Washington
with a request for imperial mediation between the North and the South.
Greeley was a type of American that no European can understand: he
believed in talk, and more talk, and still more talk, as the cure for
earthly ills. He never could understand that anybody besides himself
could have strong convictions. When he told the Ambassador that the
Emperor's mediation would lead to a reconciliation of the sections, he
was doubtless sincere in his belief. The astute European diplomat, who
could not believe such simplicity, thought it a mask. When he asked for,
and received, permission to pass the Federal lines and visit Richmond,
he interpreted the permit in the light of his assumption about Greeley.
At Richmond, he found no desire for reunion. Putting this and that
together, he concluded that the North wanted to give up the fight
and would welcome mediation to save its face. The dreadful defeat at
Fredericksburg fell in with this reasoning. His reports on American
conditions led Napoleon, in January, 1863, to attempt alone what he had
once hoped to do supported by England and Russia. He proposed his good
offices to the Government at Washington as a mediator between North and
South.
Hitherto, Washington had been very discreet about Mexico. Adroit hints
not to go too far had been given Napoleon in full measure, but there was
no real protest. The State Department now continued this caution and in
the most polite terms declined Napoleon's offer. Congress, however, took
the matter more grimly, for throughout the dealings with Napoleon, it
had been at odds with Lincoln. It now passed the first of a series of
resolutions which expressed the will of the country, if not quite
the will of the President, by resolving that any further proposal of
mediation would be regarded by it as "an unfriendly act."
Napoleon then resumed his scheming for joint intervention, while in
the meantime his armies continued to fight their way until they entered
Mexico City in June, 1863. The time had now come when Napoleon thought
it opportune to show his hand. Those were the days when Lee appeared
invincible, and when Chancellorsville crowned a splendid series of
triumphs. In England, the Southern party made a fresh start; and
societies were organized to aid the Confederacy. At Liverpool,
Laird Brothers were building, ostensibly for France, really for the
Confederacy, two ironclads supposed to outclass every ship in the
Northern navy. In France, 100,000 unemployed cotton hands were rioting
for food. To raise funds for the Confederacy the great Erlanger
banking-house of Paris negotiated a loan based on cotton which was to
be delivered after the breaking of the blockade. Napoleon dreamed of a
shattered American union, two enfeebled republics, and a broad way for
his own scheme in Mexico.
In June an English politician of Southern sympathies, Edward Roebuck,
went over to France, was received by the Emperor, and came to an
understanding with him. Roebuck went home to report to the Southern
party that Napoleon was ready to intervene, and that all he waited for
was England's cooperation. A motion "to enter into negotiations with the
Great Powers of Europe for the purpose of obtaining their cooperation
in the recognition" of the Confederacy was introduced by Roebuck in the
House of Commons.
The debate which followed was the last chance of the Southern party
and, as events proved, the last chance of Napoleon. How completely the
British ministry was now committed to the North appears in the fact that
Gladstone, for the Government, opposed Roebuck's motion. John Bright
attacked it in what Lord Morley calls "perhaps the most powerful and the
noblest speech of his life." The Southern party was hardly resolute in
their support of Roebuck and presently he withdrew his motion.
But there were still the ironclads at Liverpool. We have seen that
earlier in the war, the carelessness of the British authorities had
permitted the escape of ship 290, subsequently known as the Confederate
commerce-destroyer, Alabama. The authorities did not wish to allow a
repetition of the incident. But could it be shown that the Laird
ships were not really for a French purchaser? It was in the course
of diplomatic conversations that Mr. Adams, speaking of the possible
sailing of the ships, made a remark destined to become famous: "It would
be superfluous in me to point out to your lordship that this is war." At
jest, the authorities were satisfied. The ships were seized and in the
end bought for the British Navy.
Again Napoleon stood alone. Not only had he failed to obtain aid
from abroad, but in France itself his Mexican schemes were widely and
bitterly condemned. Yet he had gone too far to recede, and what he
had been aiming at all along was now revealed. An assembly of Mexican
notables, convened by the general of the invaders, voted to set up an
imperial government and offered the crown to Napoleon's nominee, the
Archduke Maximilian of Austria.
And now the Government at Washington was faced with a complicated
problem. What about the Monroe Doctrine? Did the Union dare risk war
with France? Did it dare pass over without protest the establishment
of monarchy on American soil by foreign arms? Between these horns of
a dilemma, the Government maintained its precarious position during
another year. Seward's correspondence with Paris was a masterpiece of
evasion. He neither protested against the intervention of Napoleon
nor acknowledged the authority of Maximilian. Apparently, both he
and Lincoln were divided between fear of a French alliance with the
Confederacy and fear of premature action in the North that would render
Napoleon desperate. Just how far they comprehended Napoleon and his
problems is an open question.
Whether really comprehending or merely trusting to its instinct,
Congress took a bolder course. Two men prove the antagonists of a
parliamentary duel--Charles Sumner, chairman of the Senate Committee on
Foreign Relations, and Henry Winter Davis, chairman of the corresponding
committee of the House. Sumner played the hand of the Administration.
Fiery resolutions demanding the evacuation of Mexico or an American
declaration of war were skillfully buried in the silence of Sumner's
committee. But there was nevertheless one resolution that affected
history: it was a ringing condemnation of the attempt to establish
a monarchy in Mexico. In the House, a joint resolution which Davis
submitted was passed without one dissenting vote. When it came to the
Senate, Sumner buried it as he had buried earlier resolutions. None the
less it went out to the world attended by the news of the unanimous vote
in the House.
Shortly afterwards, the American Ambassador at Paris called upon the
imperial Foreign Secretary, M. Drouyn de L'huys. News of this resolution
had preceded him. He was met by the curt question, "Do you bring peace
or war?" Again, the Washington Government was skillfully evasive. The
Ambassador was instructed to explain that the resolution had not been
inspired by the President and "the French Government would be seasonably
apprized of any change of policy...which the President might at any
future time think it proper to adopt."
There seems little doubt that Lincoln's course was very widely condemned
as timid. When we come to the political campaign of 1864, we shall
meet Henry Winter Davis among his most relentless personal enemies.
Dissatisfaction with Lincoln's Mexican policy has not been sufficiently
considered in accounting for the opposition to him, inside the war
party, in 1864. To it may be traced an article in the platform of the
war party, adopted in June, 1864, protesting against the establishment
of monarchy "in near proximity to the United States." In the same month
Maximilian entered Mexico City.
The subsequent moves of Napoleon are explained elsewhere.* The central
fact in the story is his virtual change of attitude, in the summer of
1864. The Confederate agent at Paris complained of a growing coolness.
Before the end of the summer, the Confederate Secretary of State was
bitter in his denunciation of Napoleon for having deserted the South.
Napoleon's puppet Maximilian refused to receive an envoy from the
Confederacy. Though Washington did not formally protest against
the presence of Maximilian in Mexico, it declined to recognize his
Government, and that Government continued unrecognized at Washington
throughout the war.
*Nathaniel W. Stephenson, "The Day of the Confederacy". (In
"The Chronicles of America").