not one of recognition, but of intervention, and is, consequently, wholly impertinent to the present discussion. The interference of the Conference was clearly a hostile act towards Holland, quite inconsistent with neutrality between the combatants; and was one which, if that power had had either the will or the force, it would, undoubtedly, have been justified in repelling by arms. But the Conference, confident in its own strength, took upon it a risk which it knew to be inconsiderable, in order to accomplish a settlement which was regarded as essential to the peace of Europe. If the speaker in question meant to recommend that the great powers of Europe should interfere by force to compel the North to acquiesce in the secession of the South, he might perhaps derive some assistance from the history of Belgium; but if he wanted an instance of a state of things where recognition affords no just ground of offence to the former Sovereign, and which cannot be regarded as a hostile act by a friendly power, the instance of Belgium was wholly beside the question.

The case of Greece is precisely similar to that of Belgium. Greece never achieved a de facto independence; on the contrary, at the moment of the European intervention, the Greek patriots were on the point of succumbing. The European Powers did not recognise, they saved Greece. As a matter of European policy, they thought fit to act in a manner decidedly hostile towards Turkey. The battle of Navarino may have been an untoward event,' but it was the natural and almost inevitable consequence of a forcible intervention to prevent the Turkish Government from reducing its subjects to submission. The emancipation of Greece, effected by Europe, was a high act of policy above and beyond the domain of law. As an act of policy, it may have been, and probably was, justifiable; but it was not the less a hostile act, which, if she had dared, Turkey might properly have resented by war.

There is, however, another example a good deal more to the purpose, viz. the celebrated recognition of the South American Republics by Mr. Canning. This was a true case of recognition, and not of intervention. The English Government did not pretend to coerce or dictate to Spain. Its action professed to be, and was, in all respects, that of which a friendly Government

had no just cause to complain, and was perfectly consistent with an attitude of neutrality. This, then, is the very case which those who wish to recognise the South, and yet not to intervene in the American quarrel, will do well to consider. What, then, was the state of things in the Spanish-American colonies at the time that the English Government thought itself justified in entering into diplomatic relations with them? In the first place, it is to be observed, that the resistance of the insurgents to the Spanish authorities had been protracted for nearly twenty years. Over and over again the Government of Spain had itself invoked the mediation of Europe. In Buenos Ayres and Columbia, Spain had entirely abandoned even an effort to establish its authority by arms. In Peru, a certain though hardly doubtful struggle was still subsisting between the mother-country and the insurgents. Buenos Ayres alone, the soil of which had been free for fourteen years, and had at last acquired a permanent Government, was selected in the first instance for recognition. Though the contest had ceased in Columbia, yet, as that State had perilled her position by detaching all her forces in aid of the Peruvian insurgents, the recognition was postponed, because there appeared still a possibility that the war and the Spaniards might have been brought back into the heart of the country. The recognition of Chili and of Mexico was likewise deferred, on account of the uncertainty of their situation, and the character of their Government. In the case of Peru, where something which could be called a substantial struggle was still being carried on, the question of recognition does not seem to have been thought capable of being even entertained.

The principles to be deduced from this transaction are clear and intelligible enough. Where the Spaniards had practically abandoned the struggle to reestablish their sovereignty, the State, the independence of which was thus established de facto beyond the probability or almost the possibility of reverse, was admitted to be entitled to recognition. Where a partial contest was still sustained, as in Peru, it seems to have been taken for granted that recognition was inadmissible. While the issue can be still considered in any degree in ambiguo, the presumption is necessarily in favour of the former Sovereign. And a friendly

State is bound to exact very conclusive and indisputable evidence that the sovereignty of a government with which it has existing relations over any part of its former dominions has been finally and permanently divested. It is not a liberty during the pendency of an actual struggle to speculate on the result, or to assume the probability of the ultimate failure of the ancient Sovereign, however plausible may be the grounds for such an inference. What the claimant to recognition has to show is an accomplished and de facto, not a probable or paulo post futurum independence. This I believe to be the accurate rule of international law, and it is that which was laid down by the Secretary of War in his much-canvassed speech at Hereford. The position insisted upon by Sir G. C. Lewis seems to have been much misunderstood by those who have criticised his doctrine. He is supposed to have maintained that England would not be entitled to recognise the Southern Confederacy until the Federalists had previously done so. But the Secretary of War is far too accurate a thinker and speaker to have laid down any such doctrine. The rule he propounded was precisely that acted upon by Mr. Canning in the case of the South American Republics, viz. that where a doubtful and bonâ fide struggle for supremacy is still maintained by the Sovereign power, the insurgents jam flagrante bello cannot be said to have established a de facto independence.

Anyone who will be at the trouble to study the profound and luminous speech of Sir J. Mackintosh on this subject (Miscellaneous Works, vol. iii.) will see (p. 462) how essential he thought it to his argument to establish that all substantial struggle for sovereignty on the part of Spain had ceased. The speeches of Lords Lansdowne and Liverpool, in the House of Lords, entirely confirm the same view. And assuredly the reasons, which in 1824 operated against the recognition of Peru, may be more forcibly applied to the present condition of that which, in common parlance, is termed the South.' cannot with any show of reason be pretended that a too substantial struggle is not still being waged in America. The ancient sovereign has been ejected but not dispossessed. The disseisor has not acquired an adverse possession,' nor has the original owner ceased to urge by arms a 'continual claim.'

It

It will be seen from the foregoing remarks how little practical bearing the precedents of Belgium, Greece, or South America have upon the existing state of the quarrel in the United States. There is, indeed, an example much more nearly resembling the case under discussion where a foreign power thought fit to enter into diplomatic relations with a body of insurgents, while the sovereign State was still engaged in a flagrant contest for the reestablishment of its supremacy. I allude, of course, to the treaty of commerce negotiated by the Court of France in 1778 with the English colonies in America. As far as our own authority can go, it was decisively established that such conduct was unlawful, and afforded a justifiable cause of war. The grounds of the English declaration of war are set forth in the message of the King to Parliament, and are rested solely on the fact of recognition and the treaty of commerce. England treated the negotiation of a treaty of commerce with the insurgent colonies, while she was still engaged in a contest for their subjugation, as a lawful cause of war, and I think that her right to do so was indisputable. That France anticipated that her conduct would be so treated is apparent enough from the fact that she thought it expedient at the same moment to conclude with the insurgent colonists a secret treaty of defensive alliance, in contemplation of hostilities with Great Britain. This latter treaty was not communicated at the time the war was declared, and was not, as has sometimes been supposed, the ground of hostilities.

As far, then, as any practical rule can be deduced from historical examples it seems to be this—When a sovereign State, from exhaustion or any other cause, has virtually and substantially abandoned the struggle for supremacy it has no right to complain if a foreign State treat the independence of its former subjects as de facto established; nor can it prolong its sovereignty by a mere paper assertion of right. When, on the other hand, the contest is not absolutely or permanently decided, a recognition of the inchoate independence of the insurgents by a foreign State is a hostile act towards the sovereign State which the latter is entitled to resent as a breach of neutrality and friendship. The true rule is that laid down in the old distich. Rebellion, until it has succeeded, is Treason; when

it is successful, it becomes Independence. And thus the only real test of independence is final success.

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I now pass to another very perplexing branch of the question, to which it seems to me that public attention has not been sufficiently directed. It is very well in ordinary conversation to talk of the recognition of the South.' But when it comes to taking diplomatic action, all the evils of a loose phraseology are apparent, and the necessity of precise definition becomes urgent. Before you can recognise a State you must know what it is. Now, I have never seen on the part of the advocates of the immediate recognition of the South, any attempt to define what the South' is, what is its extent, or where the line of demarcation is to be drawn. Is the South' which we are to recognise to include the Mississippi and New Orleans? If so, what is to become of its de facto independence while the Federal gunboats hold the former, and a Federal army is in possession of the latter? Is Kentucky North or South? Which is Virginia, and what of Tennessee? The South' at present is a cloud, apparent enough and sufficiently menacing, but still a cloud, varying in size and shape with every victory and every reverse, and never presenting the same outline for two mails together. Who, then, is to settle this question of limits? The belligerents have not yet been able to define it by their arms. Is it we, then, who are to determine what is that South' which we are called upon to recognise? In the case of a forcible intervention like that in Belgium and Greece, the thing may be done, and accordingly in those cases it was done by force of arms. The powers of Europe made up their minds what should be the limits of Belgium and Greece, and they compelled Holland and Turkey to acquiesce in their decision. Have we made up our minds what the 'South' ought to be-whether it is to include the territories and the border States, for instance? And, if so, are we prepared to compel the acquiescence of the Government of Washington in our new map of North America? It may perhaps be said that we have already recognised the South,' with all its vagueness, as a belligerent. But the two cases are obviously quite distinct. Belligerency is a temporary fact, capable of being treated roughly and in the lump. Whereas

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