Chapter III

There is a species of foreign intervention which stands by itself and has its own illustrations. Therefore I speak of it by itself. It is where a foreign power undertakes to acknowledge the independence of a colony or province renouncing its original allegiance, and it may be compendiously called _Intervention by Recognition_. Recognition is strictly applicable only to the act of the original government, renouncing all claim of allegiance, and at last acknowledging the independence in dispute. It becomes an act of intervention, where a foreign government steps between the two parties. The original government is so far master of its position, that it may select its own time in making this recognition. But the question arises, At what time and under what circumstances can this recognition be made by a foreign power? It is obvious that a recognition proper at one time and under special circumstances would not be proper at another time and under different circumstances. Mr. Canning said, with reference to Spanish America, that, “if he piqued himself upon anything, it was upon the subject of _time_”; and he added, that there were two ways of proceeding,--“recklessly and with a hurried course to the object, which might be soon reached and almost as soon lost, or by another course so strictly guarded that no principle was violated and no strict offence given to other powers.”[101] These are words of wise statesmanship, and they present the practical question occurring in every case of recognition: What condition of the controversy will justify such intervention?

Here again the whole matter is best explained by historic instances. The earliest is that of Switzerland, as long ago as 1307, breaking off from the House of Hapsburg, whose original cradle was a Swiss canton. But Austria did not acknowledge the independence of the Republic until the Peace of Westphalia, nearly three centuries and a half after the struggle began under William Tell. Meanwhile the cantons lived through the vicissitudes of war, foreign and domestic, and formed treaties with other powers, including the Pope. Before Swiss independence was acknowledged, the Dutch conflict began under William of Orange. Smarting from intolerable grievances, and with a price set upon the head of their illustrious Stadtholder, the United Provinces of the Netherlands, in 1581, renounced the tyrannical sovereignty of Philip the Second, and declared themselves independent. In the history of Freedom this is an important epoch. They were Protestants, battling for rights denied, and Queen Elizabeth of England, the head of Protestantism, acknowledged their independence, and shortly afterwards extended military aid. Nor did other powers stand aloof. In 1594, Scotland, Protestant also, under James the Sixth, afterwards the first James of England, treated with the insurgent Provinces as successors of the Houses of Burgundy and Austria, and in 1596 France entered into alliance with them. The contest continued, sustained on the side of Spain by the genius of Parma and Spinola, and on the side of the infant Republic by the youthful talent of Maurice, son of the great Stadtholder. But the claims of Spain were enduring; for it was not until the Peace of Westphalia, eighty years after the revolt, and nearly seventy years after their Declaration of Independence, that this power consented to Dutch independence. Nor do these examples stand alone, even at that early day. Portugal, unjustly subjugated by Spain in 1580, broke away in 1640 and declared herself independent, under the Duke of Braganza as King. A year scarcely passed before Charles the First of England negotiated a treaty with the new sovereign. The contest had ceased, but not the claim; for it was only after twenty-eight years that Spain made this other recognition.

Traversing the Atlantic Ocean in space and more than a century in time, I come to the next historic instance, so interesting to us all, while as a precedent it dominates the whole question. The long discord between the Colonies and the mother country broke forth in blood on the 19th of April, 1775. Independence was declared on the 4th of July, 1776. Battles ensued,--Trenton, Princeton, Brandywine, Germantown, Saratoga, followed by the winter of Valley Forge. The contest was yet undecided, when, on the 6th of February, 1778, France entered into a treaty of amity and commerce with the United States, containing, among other things, a recognition of their independence, with mutual stipulations between the two parties to protect the commerce of the other, by convoy on the ocean, “against all attacks, force, and violence”;[102] and on the 13th of March this treaty was communicated to the British Government by the French ambassador at London, with a diplomatic note, in which the United States are described as “in full possession of the independence pronounced by their Act of 4th July, 1776,” and the British Government is warned that the King of France, “being determined effectually to protect the legitimate freedom of the commerce of his subjects and to maintain the honor of his flag, has taken in consequence some eventual measures with the United States of North America.”[103] A further treaty of alliance, whose declared object was the maintenance of the independence of the United States, had been signed on the same day, but this was not communicated; nor is there evidence that it was known to the British Government at the time. The communication of the other sufficed, for it was an open recognition of the new power, with promise of protection on the ocean, _while the war was yet flagrant between the two parties_. As such it must be regarded as an armed recognition, constituting in itself a belligerent act, aggravated and explained by the circumstances under which it was made, the warning, in the nature of menace, by which it was accompanied, the clandestine preparations by which it was preceded, and the corsairs to cruise against British commerce, which for some time had been allowed to swarm under the American flag from French ports. It was so accepted by the British Government. The British minister was summarily withdrawn from Paris, all French vessels in British harbors were seized, and on the 17th March a message from the King was brought down to Parliament in the nature of a declaration of war against France. In this declaration there was no allusion to anything but the treaty of amity and commerce officially communicated by the French ambassador, which was denounced by his Majesty as an “unprovoked and unjust aggression on the honor of his crown and the essential interests of his kingdoms, _contrary to the most solemn assurances, subversive of the Law of Nations, and injurious to the rights of every sovereign power in Europe_.” Only three days later, on the 20th March, the Commissioners of the United States were received by the King of France in solemn audience, with all the pomp and ceremony accorded by the Court of Versailles to the representatives of sovereign powers. War ensued between France and Great Britain on land and sea, in which Holland and Spain afterwards took part against Great Britain. With such allies, a just cause prevailed. Great Britain, by provisional articles, signed at Paris 30th November, 1782, acknowledged the United States “to be free, sovereign, and independent,” and declared the boundaries thereof.

Colonial independence was contagious, and the contest for it presented another illustration, more discussed, and constituting a precedent, if possible, more interesting still. This was when the Spanish colonies in America, following the Northern example, broke away from the mother country and declared themselves independent. The contest began as early as 1810, but it was long continued, and extended over an immense region,--from New Mexico and California in the North to Cape Horn in the South,--washed by two vast oceans, traversed by mighty rivers, and buttressed by lofty mountains fruitful in silver, capped with snow, and shooting volcanic fire. At last the United States, satisfied that the ancient power of Spain had ceased to exist beyond reasonable chance of restoration, and that the contest was practically ended, acknowledged the independence of Mexico and five other provinces. This act was approached only after frequent debate in Congress, where Henry Clay took an eminent part, and after most careful consideration in the Cabinet, where John Quincy Adams, as Secretary of State, shed upon the question all the light of his unsurpassed knowledge, derived from long practice as well as from laborious study of International Law. This judgment must be regarded as a sufficient authority. President Monroe, in a special message, on the 8th of March, 1822, twelve years after the war began, called the attention of Congress to the state of the contest, which he said had “now reached such a stage, and been attended with such decisive success on the part of the provinces, that it merits the most profound consideration whether their right to the rank of independent nations, with all the advantages incident to it in their intercourse with the United States, is not complete.” After setting forth the _de facto_ condition of things, he proceeded: “Thus it is manifest that all those provinces are not only in the full enjoyment of their independence, but, _considering the state of the war and other circumstances, that there is not the most remote prospect of their being deprived of it_.” In proposing their recognition, the President declared that it was done “under a thorough conviction that it is in strict accord with the Law of Nations”; and further, that “it is not contemplated to change thereby, in the slightest manner, our friendly relations with either of the parties.” In accordance with this recommendation, Congress authorized the recognition. Three years later the same thing was done by Great Britain, after much debate, diplomatic and Parliamentary. No case of international duty has been illustrated by a clearer eloquence, an ampler knowledge, or a purer wisdom. The despatches were written by Mr. Canning, and upheld by him in Parliament; but Lord Liverpool took part in the discussion, succinctly declaring “that there could be no right to recognition while the contest was actually going on,”[104]--a conclusion cautiously, but strongly, enforced by Lord Lansdowne, and nobly vindicated, in an oration reviewing the whole subject, by that great publicist, Sir James Mackintosh. All inclined to recognition, but admitted that it could not take place _so long as the contest continued_,--and that there must be “such a contest as exhibits some equality of force, and of which, if the combatants were left to themselves, the issue would be in some degree doubtful.” The Spanish strength throughout the whole continent was reduced to a single castle in Mexico, an island on the coast of Chile, and a small army in Upper Peru, while in Buenos Ayres no Spanish soldier had set foot for fourteen years. “Is this a contest,” said Mackintosh, “approaching to equality? Is it sufficient to render the independence of such a country doubtful? Does it deserve the name of a contest?”[105] It was not until 1825 that Great Britain was so far satisfied as to acknowledge this independence. France followed in 1830, and Castilian pride relaxed in 1836, twenty-six years from the first date of the contest.

The next instance is Greece, which declared independence January 27, 1822. After a cruel contest of more than five years, with alternate success and disaster, the great powers intervened forcibly in 1827; but the final recognition was postponed till May, 1832. Then came the instance of Belgium, which declared independence in November, 1830, and was promptly recognized by the great powers intervening for this purpose. The last instance is Texas, which declared independence in December, 1835, and defeated the Mexican army under Santa Aña, making him prisoner, in 1836. The power of Mexico seemed to be overthrown; but Andrew Jackson, then President of the United States, in his Message of December 21, 1836, laid down the rule of caution and justice, as follows: “The acknowledgment of a new state as independent and entitled to a place in the Family of Nations is at all times an act of great delicacy and responsibility, but more especially so when such state has forcibly separated itself from another, of which it had formed an integral part, and which still claims dominion over it. _A premature recognition_ under these circumstances, _if not looked upon as justifiable cause of war_, is always liable to be regarded as a proof of an unfriendly spirit.” And he concluded by proposing that our country should “stand aloof” until the question was decided “beyond cavil or dispute.” During the next year, when the contest had practically ceased and only the claim remained, this new power was acknowledged by the United States, who were followed in 1839 by France, and in 1840 by Great Britain, Holland, and Belgium. Texas was annexed to the United States in 1845; but at this time Mexico had not joined in the general recognition.

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Such are historic instances illustrating Intervention by Recognition. As in other cases of intervention, the recognition may be _armed_ or _unarmed_, with an intermediate case, where the recognition may seem unarmed, when in reality it is armed,--as when France simply announced recognition of the independence of the United States and at the same time prepared to maintain it by war.

_Armed_ recognition is simply _Recognition by Coercion_. It is a belligerent act, constituting war, and can be vindicated only as war. No nation will undertake it, unless ready to assume all the responsibilities of war,--as in the recent cases of Greece and Belgium, not to mention the recognition of the United States by France. But an attempt, under guise of recognition, to coerce the dismemberment or partition of a country is in its nature offensive beyond ordinary war, especially when the country to be sacrificed is a republic, and the plotters against it are crowned heads. Proceeding from the consciousness of brute power, such an attempt is an insult to mankind. If armed recognition at any time can find apology, it is only _where sincerely made for the protection of Human Rights_. It would be hard to condemn that intervention which saved Greece to Freedom.

_Unarmed_ recognition is where a foreign power acknowledges in some pacific form the independence of a colony or province against the claim of its original government. Although excluding all idea of _coercion_, yet it cannot be uniformly justified.

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Here we are brought to that question of “time,” on which Mr. Canning so pointedly piqued himself, and to which President Jackson referred, when he suggested that “a premature recognition” might be “looked upon as justifiable cause of war.” Nothing is more clear than that recognition may be favored at one time, while it must be rejected at another. So far as it assumes to determine rights instead of facts, or to anticipate the result of a contest, it is wrongful. No nation can undertake to sit in judgment on the rights of another nation without its consent. Therefore it cannot declare that _de jure_ a colony or province is _entitled_ to independence, but, from the necessity of the case, and that international intercourse may not fail, it must ascertain the facts, carefully and wisely, and, on the actual evidence, it may declare that _de facto_ the colony or province appears _to be in possession_ of independence,--which means, first, that the original government is dispossessed beyond the possibility of recovery, and, secondly, that the new government has achieved a reasonable stability, with fixed limits, giving assurance of solid power. All this is simply fact and nothing more. But just in proportion as a foreign nation anticipates the fact, or imagines the fact, or substitutes its own passions for the fact, it transcends the well-defined bounds of International Law. Without the fact of independence, positive and fixed, there is nothing but a claim. Now nothing is clearer than, that, while the terrible litigation is still pending, and the trial by battle, to which appeal is made, remains undecided, _the fact of independence cannot exist_. There is only a paper independence, which, though reddened with blood, is no better than a paper empire or a paper blockade; and any pretended recognition of it is a wrongful intervention, inconsistent with just neutrality, since the obvious effect must be to encourage the insurgent party. Such has been the declared judgment of our country, and its practice, even under circumstances tempting in another direction; and such, also, was the declared judgment and practice of Great Britain with reference to Spanish America.

The conclusion, then, is clear. To justify recognition, it must appear beyond doubt that _de facto_ the contest is finished, and that _de facto_ the new government is established secure within fixed limits. _These are conditions precedent_, not to be avoided without open offence to a friendly power, and open violation of that International Law which is the guardian of the world’s peace, even if there be not _another condition precedent_ which civilization in this age will require.

Do you ask now if foreign powers can acknowledge our Rebel embryo as an independent nation? There is madness in the thought. Recognition accompanied by the breaking of the blockade would be war, impious war, against the United States, where Slavemongers would be the allies and Slavery the inspiration. Of all wars in history, none more accursed, none more sure to draw down upon its authors the judgment alike of God and man. But the thought of recognition, under existing circumstances, while the contest is still pending, even without any breaking of the blockade or attempted coercion, is a Satanic absurdity, hardly less impious than the other. It would assume unblushingly, that, already Rebel Slavery had succeeded in establishing an independent nation with an untroubled government and a secure conformation of territory, when, _in fact_, nothing is established, nothing untroubled, nothing secure, not even a single boundary-line, and there is no element of independence except the audacious attempt,--when, _in fact_, the conflict is still waged on numerous battle-fields, and these pretenders to independence have been driven from State to State, driven away from the Mississippi which parts them, driven back from the sea which surrounds them, and shut up in the interior or in blockaded ports, so that only by stealth can they communicate with the outward world. Any recognition of such a pretension, existing only as pretension, scouted and denied by a whole people with invincible armies and navies embattled against it, would be a mockery of truth. It would assert independence as _a fact_, when notoriously it was not _a fact_. It would be an enormous lie. Naturally a power thus guilty would expect to support the lie by arms.