But the crafty Russell, led by the low cunning of the European diplomatic mind, had, while appearing to accede with perfect frankness to the American proposal, made this seemingly casual remark, “I need scarcely add that, on the part of Great Britain, the engagement will be prospective, and will not invalidate anything already done”—meaning, of course, We shall be happy to receive your adhesion to the compact, but the prohibition of privateering must not apply to the Confederates, whom we have already acknowledged as belligerents. The manner in which the virtuous statesmen of the Republic viewed this passage or “implied reservation” was highly characteristic. Incapable of guile themselves, they could not suspect that they could be the objects of suspicion. It was impossible to say what might be hidden behind the mysterious words. Mr Seward professed himself totally in the dark, and demanded explanation. Whereupon Lord John declares “that her Majesty does not intend thereby to undertake any engagement which shall have any bearing, direct or indirect, on the internal differences now prevailing in the United States.” If the high-minded Secretary was startled by the original passage, he was deeply wounded by the explanation. To suppose that the American Government were aiming at any petty advantage over the Confederates in the matter was a point beneath notice. The Minister appointed to conclude the convention says, indeed— “The natural effect of such an accompaniment would seem to be to imply that the Government of the United States might be desirous at this time to take a part in the Declaration, not from any high purpose or durable policy, but with the view of securing some small temporary object in the unhappy struggle which is going on at home. Such an inference would spoil all the value that might be attached to the act itself.” It might be supposed that the best way to restore the full value to the act would have been to reject the petty despised advantage by accepting the convention with the reservation. But so deeply have the virtuous statesmen been wounded by the unworthy suspicion, that they have no heart to proceed in the business. They have done their best for humanity, and failed. The reservation was so unusual, so informal, and it so complicated the matter, that the negotiation must be suspended, said the American Secretary—hoping, however, with habitual pathos, that it might be resumed “in some happier time.”