12: The Mexican Episode
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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 commercedestroyer, 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.1 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.
1Nathaniel W. Stephenson, The Day of the Confederacy. (In The
Chronicles of America).
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