The perils to our country, foreshadowed in the action of foreign powers
since the outbreak of the war, first invite attention.
There is something in the tendencies of nations which must not be
neglected. Like individuals, nations influence each other; like the
heavenly bodies, they are disturbed by each other in their appointed
orbits. Apparent even in peace, this becomes more so in the convulsions
of war, whether from the withdrawal of customary forces or from their
increased momentum. It is the nature of war to enlarge as it continues.
Beginning between two nations, it gradually widens its circle,
ingulfing other nations in its fiery maelström. Such is human history.
Nor is it different, if the war be for independence. Foreign powers may
for a while keep out of the conflict; but examples of history show how
difficult this has been.
There was liberty-loving Holland, which, under that illustrious
character, William of Orange, predecessor and exemplar of our
Washington, rose against the dominion of Spain, upheld by the bigotry
of Philip the Second, and the barbarity of his representative, Alva;
but the conflict, though at first limited to the two parties, was not
slow to engage Queen Elizabeth, who lent to this war of independence
the name of her favorite Leicester and the undying heroism of Sidney,
while Spain retorted by the Armada. The United Provinces of Holland,
in their struggle for independence, were the prototype of the United
States of America, which I need not remind you drew into their contest
the arms of France, Spain, and Holland. In the rising of the Spanish
colonies there was less interposition of other nations, doubtless
from the distant and outlying position they occupied, although not
beyond the ambitious reach of the Holy Alliance, whose purposes were
so far thwarted by Mr. Canning, backed by the declaration of President
Monroe, known as the Monroe doctrine, that the British statesman felt
authorized to boast that he had called a new world into existence to
redress the balance of the old. Then came the struggle of Greece,
which, after painful years darkened by massacre, but relieved by
exalted self-sacrifice, shining with names, like Byron and Bozzaris,
that cannot die, challenged the powerful interposition of England,
France, and Russia. The independence of Greece was hardly acknowledged,
when Belgium, renouncing the rule of the Netherlands, claimed hers
also, and here again the great powers of Europe were drawn into the
contest. Then came the effort of Hungary, inspired by Kossuth, which,
when about to prevail, aroused the armies of Russia. There was also
the contemporaneous effort of the Roman Republic, under Mazzini,
which, almost successful, evoked the bayonets of France. We have only
recently witnessed the resurrection of Italy, inspired by Garibaldi,
and directed by Cavour; but it was not accomplished, until Louis
Napoleon, with well-trained legions, bore the imperial eagles into
battle.
Such are famous instances, being so many warnings. Ponder them, and you
will see the tendency, the temptation, the irresistible fascination,
or the commanding exigency under which foreign nations have been led
to participate in conflicts for independence. I do not dwell on the
character of these interventions, although mostly in the interest of
Human Freedom. It is only as examples to put us on our guard that I
adduce them. The footprints all lead one way.
Even our war is not without its warning. If thus far in its progress
other nations have failed to intervene, they have not succeeded in
keeping entirely aloof. The foreign trumpet has not sounded yet, but
more than once the cry has come that we should soon hear it, while
incidents too often occur, exhibiting abnormal watchfulness of our
affairs and uncontrollable passion or purpose to intermeddle in them,
with signs of unfriendly feeling. This is applicable especially, if not
exclusively, to England and France.
And at the outset, as I am about to speak frankly, I quote the words
of an eminent English statesman and orator, who felt it his duty to
criticize Spain. From his place in the House of Commons, whence his
words flew over Europe, Mr. Canning, Minister of Foreign Affairs,
said:--
“If, in what I have now further to say, I should bear hard
upon the Spanish Government, I beg that it may be observed,
that, unjustifiable as I shall show their conduct to have
been--contrary to the Law of Nations, contrary to the law of
good neighborhood, contrary, I might say, to the laws of God
and man--with respect to Portugal, still I do not mean to
preclude a _locus pœnitentiæ_, a possibility of redress and
reparation.”[2]
Fellow-citizens, you shall decide, on hearing the story, if we also
have not complaints; but I, too, hope that all will end well.
* * * * *
(1.) One act of the British Cabinet stands foremost as an omen of
peril,--foremost in time, foremost also in the magnitude of its
consequences. Though plausible in form, it is none the less injurious
or unjustifiable. I refer to that inconsiderate Proclamation, in the
name of the Queen, as early as 13th May, 1861, which, after raising
Rebel Slavemongers to equality with the National Government, solemnly
declares “neutrality” between the two coëqual parties: as if the
recognition of equality was not an insult to the National Government,
and the declaration of neutrality was not a moral absurdity, offensive
to reason and all those precedents which make the glory of the British
name. Neutrality is equality; neutrality is equity. It is both. But
is there just equality between these two parties? Can neutrality
between such parties, especially at the very outset, be regarded as
equity? Even if the Proclamation could be otherwise than improper at
any time in such a rebellion, it was worse than a blunder at that
early date. The apparent relations between the two powers were more
than friendly. Only a few months had passed since the youthful heir to
the British throne was welcomed everywhere, except in Richmond, as
in the land of kinsmen. And yet, at once, after tidings of the Rebel
assault on Fort Sumter, before the National Government had begun to
put forth its strength, and even without waiting for the arrival of
our newly appointed minister, who was known to be at Liverpool, on his
way to London, the Proclamation was suddenly launched. I doubt if any
well-informed person, who reads Mr. Dallas’s despatch of 2d May, 1861,
recounting a conversation with the British Secretary, will undertake
to vindicate it in point of time. “I informed him,” the minister
reports, “that Mr. Adams had apprised me of his intention to be on
his way hither in the steamship Niagara, which left Boston on the 1st
May, and that he would probably arrive in less than two weeks, by the
12th or 15th instant. His Lordship acquiesced in the expediency of
disregarding mere rumor, _and waiting the full knowledge to be brought
by my successor_.”[3] And yet the blow was struck without waiting.
The alacrity of this concession was unhappy, for it bore an air of
defiance, or at least of heartlessness, towards an ally of kindred
blood engaged in the maintenance of its traditional power against an
infamous pretension. More unhappy still was it that the good genius of
England did not save this historic nation, linked with so many triumphs
of Freedom, from a fatal step, which, under the guise of “neutrality,”
was a betrayal of Civilization itself.
It is difficult to exaggerate the consequences of this precipitate,
unfriendly, and immoral concession, which has been, and still is, an
overflowing fountain of mischief and bloodshed,--“_hoc fonte derivata
clades_,”--_first_, in what it vouchsafes to Rebel Slavemongers on sea
and in British ports, and, _secondly_, in the removal of impediments
from British subjects ready to make money out of Slavery,--all of which
has been declared by undoubted British authority. Lord Chelmsford, of
professional renown as Sir Frederick Thesiger, now an ex-Chancellor,
used these words recently in the House of Lords: “If the Southern
Confederacy had not been recognized by us as _a belligerent power_,
he agreed with his noble and learned friend [Lord BROUGHAM], that any
Englishman aiding them by fitting out a privateer against the Federal
Government _would be guilty of piracy_.”[4] But this is changed by
the Queen’s Proclamation. For Rebel Slavery there is recognition; for
the British subject opportunity of trade. For Rebel Slavery there is
fellowship and equality; for the British subject a new customer, to
whom he may lawfully sell Armstrong guns, and other warlike munitions
of choicest British workmanship, and, as Lord Palmerston tells us, even
ships of war, to be used in behalf of Slavery.[5] What was unlawful is
suddenly made lawful, while the ban is taken from an odious felony. It
seems superfluous to add, that such concession, thus potent in reach,
must have been a direct encouragement and overture to the Rebellion.
Slavery itself was exalted, when barbarous pretenders, battling to
found a new power in its hateful name, without so much as a single port
on the ocean where a prize could be carried for condemnation, were yet,
_in face of this essential deficiency_, swiftly acknowledged as _ocean_
belligerents, while, as consequence, their pirate ships, cruising for
plunder in behalf of Slavery, were acknowledged as national ships,
entitled to equal immunities with the national ships of the United
States. This simple statement is enough. It is vain to say that the
concession was a “necessity.” There may have been strong temptation
to it, constituting, perhaps, imagined necessity, as with many there
is strong temptation to Slavery itself. But such concession to Rebels
fighting for Slavery can be vindicated only as Slavery is vindicated.
As well declare “neutrality” between Right and Wrong, between Good and
Evil, with concession to Evil of belligerent rights, and then set up
the apology of “necessity.”
If he is an enemy who does what pleases an enemy, according to the
rule borrowed by Grotius from the Christian lawyer of the age of
Justinian,[6] then did England become the enemy of the National Union,
for this most fruitful concession rejoiced beyond measure the Rebel
enemy.
(2.) An act so essentially unfriendly in character, and also in the
alacrity with which it was done, too clearly indicated an unfriendly
sentiment, easily stimulated to menace of war. And this menace was not
wanting, when, soon afterwards, the two Rebel emissaries on board the
Trent were seized by a patriotic, brave commander, whose highest fault
was, that, in the absence of instructions from his own Government, he
followed British precedents only too closely. This accident--for such
it was, and nothing else--assumed at once overshadowing proportions.
With indefensible exaggeration, it was changed by the British nation,
backed by the British Government, into a _casus belli_,--as if an
unauthorized incident, obviously involving no question of self-defence,
could justify war between two civilized nations. And yet, in the face
of positive declaration from the United States, communicated by our
minister at London, that it was an accident, the British Government
_made preparations to take part with Rebel Slavery_, and fitly began
such an ignoble proceeding by keeping back from the British people the
official despatch of 30th November, 1861, where our Government, after
announcing that Captain Wilkes had acted “without any instructions,”
expresses a “trust that the British Government would consider the
subject in a friendly temper,” and promises “the best disposition” on
our part.[7] It is painful to recall this exhibition. But it belongs to
history, and we cannot forget the lesson it teaches.
(3.) This tendency to espouse the side of Slavery appears in small
things as well as great, becoming more marked in proportion to the
inconsistency involved. Thus, where two British subjects, “suspected”
of participation in the Rebellion, were detained in a military
prison without the benefit of _Habeas Corpus_, the British minister
at Washington was directed to complain of their detention _as
inconsistent with the Constitution of the United States_, of which
this intermeddling power assumed to be “expounder”; and the case was
accordingly presented on this ground.[8] But the British Cabinet, with
instinct to mix in our war, if only by diplomatic notes, seemed to have
forgotten the British Constitution, under which, in 1848, with consent
of all the party leaders, Brougham and Lansdowne, Peel and Disraeli,
_Habeas Corpus_ was suspended in Ireland, and the Government authorized
to apprehend and detain “such persons as they shall suspect.” The
bill sanctioning this exercise of power went through all its stages
in the House of Commons on one day, and the next day went through all
its stages in the House of Lords without a dissenting vote. It is
hard to believe that Lord Russell, who complains of our detention of
“suspected” persons as inconsistent with the Constitution of the United
States, was the minister who introduced this bill, and on that occasion
used these words: “I believe in my conscience that this measure is
calculated to prevent insurrection, to preserve internal peace, _to
preserve the unity of this empire_, and to secure the throne of these
realms and the free institutions of this country.”[9]
(4.) The complaint about _Habeas Corpus_ was hardly answered, when
another was solemnly presented, founded on the legitimate effort to
complete the blockade of Charleston, by sinking at the mouth of its
harbor ships laden with stone, usually known as “the stone blockade.”
Did anybody find fault with the Russians for sinking their men-of-war
in the harbor of Sebastopol? Nor is the allegation of permanent damage
to the harbor tenable in the present advanced state of engineering
science. A London journal, not inferior to any other in character
and ability, has recently recognized the normal character of such a
proceeding by mentioning it as a possible defence for Calcutta against
naval force, saying: “The ascent of the river without pilots is
impossible; for the Government can alter all the channels in a night by
_merely sinking a couple of loaded schooners_.”[10] In common times her
Majesty’s Government would shrink from such intermeddling. It could not
forget that history, early and late, and especially English history,
abounds in similar incidents: that, as long ago as 1436, at the siege
of Calais by the Duke of Burgundy, and also in 1628, at the memorable
siege of Rochelle by Cardinal Richelieu, ships laden with stone were
sunk in the harbor; that, during the war of the Revolution, in 1779,
six vessels were sunk by the British commander in the Savannah River,
not far from this very Charleston, as a protection against the approach
of the French naval forces; that, in 1804, under direction of the
British Admiralty, there was an attempt, notorious from contemporary
jest,[11] to choke the entrance into the harbor of Boulogne by sinking
stone vessels; and that, in 1809, the same blockade of another port was
recommended to the Admiralty by no less a person than Lord Dundonald,
saying: “Ships filled with stones would ruin forever the anchorage of
Aix, and some old vessels of the line well loaded would be excellent
for the purpose.”[12] This complaint by the British Cabinet becomes
doubly strange, when it is considered that one of the most conspicuous
treaties of modern history contains solemn exactions from France by
England herself, that the harbor of Dunkirk, whose prosperity was
regarded with jealousy, should be permanently “filled up,” so that
it could no longer furnish those hospitalities to commerce for which
it was famous. This was the Treaty of Utrecht, in 1713. The Triple
Alliance, four years later, compelled France to stipulate again that
nothing should be omitted “which Great Britain could think necessary
for the entire destruction of the harbor”; and the latter power was
authorized to send commissioners as “ocular witnesses of the execution
of the treaty.” These humiliating provisions were renewed in successive
treaties down to the Peace of Versailles, in 1783, when the immunity of
that harbor was recognized with American Independence. And yet it is
Great Britain, thus persistent in closing ports and rivers, that now
interferes to warn us against a stone blockade in a war to put down
Rebel Slavery.
(5.) The same propensity and the same inconsistency appear in another
instance, where an eminent peer, once Foreign Secretary, did not
hesitate, from his place in Parliament, to charge the United States
with making medicines and surgical instruments contraband, “contrary
to all the common laws of war, _contrary to all precedent, not
excluding the most ignorant and barbarous ages_.”[13] Thus exclaims
the noble Lord. Now I have nothing to say of the propriety of making
these things contraband. My simple object is to exhibit the spirit
against which we are to guard. It is difficult to understand how such
a display could be made in face of the historic fact, exposed in the
satire of Peter Plymley, that Parliament, in 1808, by large majorities,
prohibited the exportation of Peruvian bark into any territory occupied
by France, and that this prohibition was moved by no less a person than
the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Mr. Perceval, who commended it on the
ground that “the severest pressure was already felt on the Continent
from the want of that article,” and that “it was of great importance to
the armies of the enemy.”[14] Such, in an age neither “ignorant” nor
“barbarous,” is authentic British precedent, but now ostentatiously
forgotten.
(6.) The same recklessness, of such evil omen, breaks forth again in a
despatch of the Foreign Secretary, where he undertakes to communicate
the judgment of the British Cabinet on the President’s Proclamation
of Emancipation. Here, at least, you will say there can be no
misunderstanding and no criticism; but you are mistaken. Under any
ordinary circumstances, when great passions find no vent, such an act,
having such an object, and being of such unparalleled importance, would
be treated by the minister of a foreign power with supreme caution, if
not with sympathy; but, under the terrible influence of the hour, Earl
Russell, not content with condemning the Proclamation, misrepresents
it in the most barefaced manner. This was done in a communication to
Lord Lyons here in Washington. Gathering his condemnation into one
phrase, he says that it “makes Slavery at once legal and illegal”[15];
whereas it is obvious to the most careless observer, who looks only
at the face of the Proclamation, that, whatever its faults, it is not
obnoxious to this criticism, for it makes Slavery legal nowhere, while
it makes it illegal in an immense territory. An official letter so
incomprehensible in motive, from a statesman usually liberal, if not
cautious, is another illustration of that irritating tendency which
will be checked, at last, when it is fully comprehended.
(7.) The activity of our navy is only another occasion for criticism
in a similar spirit. Nothing can be done anywhere to please our
self-constituted monitor. Our naval officers in the West Indies,
acting under instructions modelled on the judgments of the British
Admiralty, are reprehended by Earl Russell in a formal despatch.[16]
The judges in our Prize Court are indecently belittled by this same
minister, from his place in Parliament,[17] when it is notorious that
there are several who compare favorably with any British Admiralty
judge since Lord Stowell, not even excepting that noble and upright
magistrate, Dr. Lushington. And this same minister has undertaken to
throw the British shield over a newly invented contraband trade with
the Rebel Slavemongers _viâ_ Matamoras, claiming that it is “a lawful
branch of commerce” and “a perfectly legitimate trade.” The “Dolphin”
and “Peterhoff” were two ships elaborately prepared in London for this
illicit commerce, and they have been duly condemned as such; but their
seizure was made the occasion of official protest and complaint, with
the insinuation of “vexatious capture and arbitrary interference,”
followed by the menace, that, under such circumstances, “it is obvious
that Great Britain must interfere to protect her flag.”[18]
(8.) This persistent, inexorable criticism, even at the expense
of all consistency, or of all memory, has broken forth in forms
incompatible with that very “neutrality” so early declared. It was
bad enough to declare neutrality, when the question was between a
friendly power and an insulting barbarism; but it is worse, after
the declaration, to depart from it, _if in words only_. The Court of
Rome, at a period when it dictated the usage of nations, instructed
its Cardinal Legate, on an important occasion, as a solemn duty, first
and above all things, to cultivate “indifference” between the parties,
and in this regard he was to be so exact, that not only should no
partiality be seen in his conduct, but it should not be remarked even
“_in the actions and words of his domestics_.”[19] If, in that early
day, before steam and telegraph, or even the newspaper, neutrality
was disturbed by “words,” how much more so now, when every word is
multiplied indefinitely, and wafted we know not whither, to begin,
wherever it falls, a subtle, wide-spread, and irrepressible influence!
This injunction is in plain harmony with the refined rule of Count
Bernstorff, who, in his admirable despatch at the time of the Armed
Neutrality, says sententiously: “Neutrality does not exist, _when it
is not perfect_.”[20] It must be clear and above suspicion. Like the
reputation of a woman, it is lost when you begin to talk about it.
Unhappily, there is too much occasion to talk about the “neutrality” of
England.
I say nothing of a Parliamentary utterance, that the national cause
was “detested by a large majority of the House of Commons”; nor do I
speak of other most unneutral speeches. I confine myself to official
declarations. Here the case is plain. Several of the British Cabinet,
including the Foreign Secretary and the Chancellor of the Exchequer,
two masters of “words,” have allowed themselves in public speech
to characterize our present effort to put down Rebel Slavery as “a
contest for empire on one side and for independence on the other.”
Here are “words” which, under a specious form, openly encouraged Rebel
Slavery. But they are more specious than true, revealing nothing but
the side espoused by the orators. Clearly, on our side it is a contest
for national life, involving the liberty of a race. Clearly, on the
other side it is a contest for Slavery, in order to secure for this
hateful crime _new_ recognition and power; and it began in rebellion
against the solemn judgment of the American people, declaring, in the
election of Abraham Lincoln, that Slavery shall not be extended. Our
empire is simply to crush Rebel Slavery. Their independence is but
the unrestrained power to whip and sell women and children. If at the
beginning the National Government made no declaration, yet the real
character of the war was none the less apparent in the Presidential
election, out of which it grew, and in the repeated declarations of the
other side, who did not hesitate to assert their purpose to build a
_new_ power on Slavery,--as in the Italian campaign of Louis Napoleon
against Austria the object was necessarily apparent, even before
the Emperor tardily at Milan put forth his life-giving proclamation
that Italy should be free from the Alps to the Adriatic, by which the
war became, in its avowed purpose, as well as in reality, a war of
liberation. That such a rebellion should be elevated by the unneutral
“words” of a foreign Cabinet into respectability which it deserves so
little is only another sign we have to watch.
(9.) These same Cabinet orators, not content with giving us a bad
name, allow themselves to pronounce against us on the whole case. They
declare that the National Government cannot succeed in crushing Rebel
Slavery, and that dismemberment is inevitable. “Jefferson Davis,” says
one of them, “has created _a nation_.” Thus do these representatives
of declared “neutrality” degrade us and exalt Slavery. It is apparent
that their utterance, though made in Parliament and repeated at public
meetings, was founded less on special information from the seat of
war--disclosing its secret--than on political theory, if not prejudice.
It is true that our eloquent teacher, Edmund Burke, in his famous
Letter to the Sheriffs of Bristol, argued most persuasively that Great
Britain could not succeed in reclaiming the colonies which had declared
themselves independent. His reasoning rather than his wisdom enters
into and possesses the British statesmen of our day, who do not take
the trouble to see how the two cases are so entirely unlike that the
example of the one is not applicable to the other,--that the colonies
were battling to found a _new_ power on the corner-stone of Liberty,
Equality, and Happiness to All Men, while our Slavemongers are battling
to found a _new_ power on the corner-stone of Slavery. The difference
becomes a contrast, so that whatever was once generously said in favor
of American Independence now tells with unmistakable force against this
new-fangled pretension.
No British statesman saw the past more clearly than Earl Russell, when,
long ago, in striking phrase, he said that England, in her war against
our fathers, “had engaged _for the suppression of Liberty_”;[21]
but this is precisely what Rebel Slavery is doing. Men change, but
principles are the same now as then. Therefore do I say, that every
sympathy formerly bestowed upon our fathers now belongs to us their
children, striving to uphold their work against bad men, who would not
only break it in pieces, but put in its stead a _new_ piratical power,
whose declared object is “the suppression of Liberty.” And yet British
ministers, mounting the prophetic tripod, presume most oracularly to
foretell the doom of this Republic. Their prophecies do not disturb my
confidence. I do not forget how often false prophets have appeared,
like the author of the “Oceana,” who published a demonstration that
monarchy was impossible in England[22] less than six months before
Charles the Second was welcomed to London amid salvos of cannon
and hurrahs of the people. Nor do I stop to consider how far such
prophecies uttered in public places by British ministers are consistent
with that British “neutrality” so constantly boasted. Opinions are
allies more potent than subsidies, especially in an age like the
present. Prophecies are opinions proclaimed and projected into the
future; and yet these are given freely to Rebel Slavery. There is
matter for reflection in this instance, but I adduce it only as another
illustration of the times. Nothing is more clear than that whosoever
assumes to play prophet becomes pledged in character and pretension
to sustain his prophecy. The learned Jerome Cardan, professor and
doctor, also dabbler in astrology, of great fame in the sixteenth
century, undertook to predict the day of his death, and he maintained
his prophetic character by taking his own life at the appointed time.
If British ministers, playing prophet, escape the ordinary influences
of this craft, it is from that happy nature which suspends for them
human infirmity and human prejudice. But it becomes us to note well
the increased difficulties and dangers to which, on this account, the
national cause is exposed.
(10.) It is not in “words” only, of speeches, despatches, or
declarations, that our danger lies. I am sorry to add, that there
are acts, also, with which the British Government is too closely
associated. I do not refer to the unlimited supply of “munitions of
war,” so that our army everywhere, whether at Vicksburg or Charleston,
is compelled to encounter Armstrong guns and Blakely guns, with all
proper ammunition, from England; for the right of British subjects to
sell these articles to Rebel Slavemongers was fixed, when the latter,
by sudden metamorphosis, were changed from lawless vagrants of the
ocean to lawful belligerents. Nor do I refer to the swarms of swift
steamers, “a pitchy cloud warping on the eastern wind,” always under
British flag, with contributions to Rebel Slavery; for these, too,
enjoy kindred immunity. Of course no royal proclamation can change
wrong into right, or make such business otherwise than immoral; but the
proclamation may take from it the character of felony.
Even the royal manifesto gives no sanction to the fitting out in
England of a _naval expedition_ against the commerce of the United
States. It leaves the Parliamentary statute, as well as the general
Law of Nations, in full efficacy to restrain and punish such offence.
And yet, in face of this obvious prohibition, standing forth in the
text of the law, and founded in reason “ere human statute purged the
gentle weal,” also exemplified by the National Government, which, from
the time of Washington, has always guarded its ports against such
outrage, powerful ships are launched, equipped, fitted out, and manned
in England, with arms supplied at sea from another English vessel,
and then, assuming that by this insulting _hocus pocus_ all English
liability is avoided, they proceed at once to rob and destroy the
commerce of the United States. _England is the naval base_ from which
are derived the original forces and supplies enabling them to sail the
sea. Several such ships are now depredating on the ocean, like Captain
Kidd, under pretended commissions, each in itself a _naval expedition_.
As England is not at war with the United States, these ships can be
nothing else than pirates; and their conduct is that of pirates. Unable
to provide a court for the trial of prizes, they revive for every
captured ship the barbarous Ordeal of Fire. Like pirates, they burn
what they cannot rob. Raging from sea to sea, they turn the ocean into
a furnace and melting-pot of American commerce. Of these incendiaries,
the most famous is the “Alabama,” with a picked crew of British seamen,
with “trained gunners out of her Majesty’s naval reserve,” all,
like those of Queen Elizabeth, described as “good sailors and better
pirates,” and with everything else from keel to truck British, which,
after more than a year of unlawful havoc, is still firing the property
of our citizens, _without once entering a Rebel Slavemonger port_, but
always keeping the umbilical connection with England, out of whose womb
she sprung, and never losing the original nationality stamped upon
her by origin, so that, at this day, she is a British pirate ship,
precisely as a native-born Englishman, robbing on the high seas, and
never naturalized abroad, is a British pirate subject.
It is bad enough that all this should proceed from England. It is hard
to bear. Why is it not stopped at once? One cruiser might, perhaps,
elude a watchful government. But it is difficult to see how this can
occur once, twice, three times,--and the cry is, Still they sail!
Two powerful rams are announced, like stars at a theatre. Will they,
also, be allowed to perform? I wish there were not too much reason to
believe that all these performances are sustained by prevailing British
sympathy. A Frenchman, accidentally prisoner on the Alabama at the
destruction of two American ships, describes a British packet in sight
whose crowded passengers made the sea resound with cheers, as they
witnessed the captured ships handed over to the flames. The words of
Lucretius were verified:--
“Suave etiam belli certamina magna tueri.”[23]
And these same cheers were echoed in Parliament, as the builder of the
piratical craft gloried in his deed. The verse which filled the ancient
theatre with glad applause declared sympathy with Humanity[24]; but
English applause is now given to Slavery and its defenders: “I am an
Englishman, and nothing of Slavery is foreign to me.” Accordingly,
Slavery is helped by English arms, English gold, English ships, English
speeches, English cheers. And yet, for the honor of England be it
known, there are Englishmen who stand firm and unshaken amidst this
painful recreancy. Their names cannot be forgotten. And still more
for the honor of England be it spoken, the working classes, called
to suffer the most, bravely bear their calamity, without joining the
enemies of the Republic. Their cheers are for Freedom, and not for
Slavery.
But the cheers of the House of Commons prevail in her Majesty’s
Government. Municipal Law is violated, while International Law, in its
most solemn obligation to do unto others as we would have them do unto
us, is treated as the merest nullity. Eminent British functionaries,
in Court and Parliament, vindicate the _naval expeditions_ which in
the name of Slavery are unleashed against a friendly power. Taking
advantage of an admitted principle, that, after the concession of
belligerent rights, “munitions of war” may be supplied, the Lord Chief
Baron of the Exchequer tells us that “ships of war” may be supplied
also. Lord Palmerston echoes Lord Chief Baron. Each vouches American
authority. But they are mistaken. The steel which they strive to
“impel” cannot be feathered from our sides. Since the earliest stage
of its existence, the National Government has asserted a distinction
between the two cases; and so has the Supreme Court, although there
are words of Story latterly quoted to the contrary. The authority of
the Supreme Court is positive on the two points into which the British
apology is divided. The first is, that, even if a “ship of war” cannot
be furnished, the offence is incomplete until the armament is put
aboard, so that, where the ship, though fitted out and equipped in a
British port, awaits an armament at sea, she is not liable to arrest.
Such apology is an insult to the understanding and to common sense,--as
if it were not obvious that the offence begins with the laying of
the keel for the hostile ship, _knowing it to be such_:[25] and in
this spirit the Supreme Court has decided that it is not necessary
to find that a ship on leaving port was armed, or in a condition to
commit hostilities; for citizens are restrained from such acts as
are calculated to involve the country in war.[26] The second apology
assumes, that, even if the armament were aboard, so that the “ship of
war” is complete at all points, still the expedition would be lawful,
if the fiction of a sale were adroitly managed. On this point, the
Supreme Court, speaking by Chief-Justice Marshall, has left no doubt
of its deliberate and most authoritative judgment. In the case before
the Court the armament was aboard, but cleared as cargo; the men, too,
were aboard, but enlisted for a commercial voyage; the ship, though
fitted out to cruise against a nation with which we were at peace, was
not commissioned as a privateer, and did not attempt to act as such,
until she reached the river La Plata, _where a commission was obtained
and the crew reënlisted_; yet, in the face of these extenuating
circumstances, it was declared by the whole Court, that the neutrality
of the United States had been violated, so that the guilty ship could
not afterwards be recognized as a legitimate cruiser. All the disguises
were to no purpose. The Court penetrated them every one, saying, that,
if such a ship could lawfully sail, there would be on our part “a
fraudulent neutrality, disgraceful to our own Government, and of which
no nation would be the dupe.”[27] But a “neutrality” worse even than
that condemned in advance by our Supreme Court, “of which no nation
would be the dupe,” is now served out to us, which nothing can explain,
short of the fatal war-spirit that has entered into Great Britain.
There was a time when the Foreign Secretary of England, truly eminent
as statesman and orator, Mr. Canning, said in the House of Commons:
“If a war must come, let it come in the shape of satisfaction to be
demanded for injuries, of rights to be asserted, of interests to be
protected, of treaties to be fulfilled. _But, in God’s name, let it not
come on in the paltry, pettifogging way of fitting out ships in our
harbors to cruise for gain. At all events, let the country disdain to
be sneaked into a war._”[28] These noble words were uttered in reply
to Lord John Russell and his associates in 1823, when trying to repeal
the Foreign Enlistment Act, and to overturn the statute safeguards of
British neutrality. They speak now with greater force even than then.
Though it be admitted that “ships of war,” like “munitions of war,” may
be sold to a belligerent, as is asserted by the British Prime-Minister,
echoing the Lord Chief Baron, it is obvious that it can be only with
the distinction already mentioned, that the sale is a _commercial
transaction_, pure and simple, and not in any respect a _hostile
expedition_ fitted out in England. The ship must be “exported” as an
_article of commerce_, and must continue such _until_ arrival at the
belligerent port, where alone can it be fitted out and commissioned as
a “ship of war,” when its hostile character will commence. Any attempt
in England to impart a hostile character to the ship, or, in one
word, to make England its _naval base_, must be criminal: but this is
precisely what has been done. Ships are sent forth, armed and equipped.
And, pray, how distinguish a ship armed and equipped from a regiment
armed and equipped? It is not a munition, it is not even an article,
but much more; and here is the distinction not to be overlooked. It
is an _organized force_, and the nation sending it forth makes itself
a party to the war,--all of which England has done. And here are the
leonine footprints which point so badly.
(11.) Not content with misconstruing the decisions of our Supreme
Court, making them a cover for _naval expeditions_ to depredate on
our commerce, our whole history is forgotten or misrepresented. It
is forgotten, that, as early as 1793, under the administration of
Washington, before any Act of Congress on the subject, the National
Government recognized its liability, under the Law of Nations, for
ships fitted out in its ports to depredate on British commerce; that
Washington, in his speech at the opening of Congress, describes such
ships as “vessels commissioned or _equipped in a warlike form_ within
the limits of the United States,” and also as “military expeditions
or enterprises”;[29] and that Jefferson, vindicating this policy of
_repression_, said, in a letter to the French Minister, that it was
“our wish to preserve the morals of our citizens from being vitiated by
courses of lawless plunder and murder”;[30] that, on this occasion, the
National Government made the distinction between “munitions of war,”
which a neutral might supply in the way of commerce to a belligerent,
and “ships of war,” which a neutral was not allowed to supply or even
to augment with arms; that Mr. Hammond, the British plenipotentiary at
that time, by his letter of 8th May, 1793, after complaining of two
French privateers, fitted out at Charleston to cruise against British
commerce, expressly declares that “he conceives them to be breaches of
that neutrality which the United States profess to observe, and direct
contraventions of the proclamation which the President issued,”[31]
and that very soon there were criminal proceedings, at British
instigation, on account of these privateers, in which it was affirmed
by the Court that such ships could not be fitted out in a neutral port
without violation of international obligations; that promptly, on
the representation of the British Government, a statute was enacted
by Congress, in harmony with the Law of Nations, for the better
maintenance of our neutrality;[32] that, in 1818, another statute
followed in the nature of a Foreign Enlistment Act,[33] afterwards
proposed as an example by Lord Castlereagh, when urging a similar
statute upon Parliament;[34] that, in 1823, the conduct of the United
States on this whole head was presented as a model by Mr. Canning;[35]
that, in 1838, during the rebellion in Canada, on the appeal of the
British Government, and to its special satisfaction, as was announced
in Parliament by Lord Palmerston, at the time Foreign Secretary, our
Government promptly declared its purpose “to maintain the supremacy of
those laws which were passed to fulfil the obligations of the United
States to all friendly nations who may be unfortunately engaged in
foreign or domestic war,” and, not satisfied with existing powers,
undertook to ask additional legislation from Congress; that Congress
proceeded at once to the enactment of another statute, calculated to
meet the immediate exigency, where it is provided that collectors,
marshals, and other officers shall “seize and detain _any vessel_
or any arms or munitions of war which may be provided or prepared
for _any military expedition_ or enterprise against the territory or
dominions of any foreign prince or state.”[36] It is something to
forget these things; but it is convenient to forget still further,
that, at the Crimean War, in 1854, the British Government, jointly with
France, made another appeal to the United States, that our citizens
should “rigorously abstain from taking part in armaments of Russian
privateers, or in any other measure opposed to the duties of a strict
neutrality”;[37] and this appeal, declared by the British Government
to be “in the spirit of just reciprocity,” was answered on our part by
a sincere and determined vigilance, so that not a single British or
French ship suffered from any cruiser fitted out in our ports. And it
is also convenient to forget no less the solemn obligations of treaty,
binding both parties:--
“That the subjects and citizens of the two nations _shall not
do any acts of hostility or violence against each other_,
nor accept commissions or instructions so to act from any
foreign prince or state, enemies to the other party; nor
shall the enemies of one of the parties be permitted to
invite or endeavor to enlist in their military service any of
the subjects or citizens of the other party; _and the laws
against all such offences and aggressions shall be punctually
executed_.”[38]
At the date of this treaty, in 1794, there was little legislation on
the subject in either country; so that the treaty, in harmony with
the practice, testifies to the requirements of the Law of Nations as
understood at the time by both powers.
And yet, disregarding all these things, which show how faithfully the
National Government has acted, both in measures of _repression_ and
measures of _compensation_, also how often the British Government
asked and received protection at our hands, and how highly our example
of neutrality has been appreciated by leading British statesmen,--and
disowning, also, that “spirit of just reciprocity,” which, besides
being the prompting of an honest nature, has been positively promised,
ship after ship is permitted to leave British ports to depredate on
our commerce; and when we complain of an outrage so unprecedented
and so unjustifiable, all the obligations of International Law are
ignored, and we are petulantly told that the evidence against the
ships is not sufficient _under the statute_; and when we propose that
the statute shall be rendered efficient for the purpose,--precisely
as in past times the British Government, under circumstances less
stringent, proposed to us,--we are pointedly repelled by the old
baronial declaration, that there must be no change in the laws
of England,--“_nolumus leges Angliæ mutari_”; while, to cap this
strange insensibility, Lord Palmerston, in a last debate of the late
Parliament, brings against us a groundless charge of infidelity to
neutral duties during the Crimean War,[39] when the fact is notoriously
the reverse, and Earl Russell, in the same spirit, imagines an equally
groundless charge, which he records in one of his diplomatic notes,
that we have recently enlisted men in Ireland,[40] when notoriously we
have done no such thing. Thus are the obligations of reciprocal service
and good-will openly discarded, while our public conduct, as well in
the past as the present, is openly misrepresented.
(12.) This flagrant oblivion of history and of duty, which seems
the adopted policy of the British Government, is characteristically
followed by flat refusal to pay for the damages to our commerce caused
by the hostile expeditions. The United States, with Washington as
President, on application of the British Government, made compensation
for damages to British commerce under circumstances much less
vexatious,--and, still further, by special treaty, made compensation
for damages “by vessels originally armed” in our ports,[41]--which is
the present case. Of course it can make no difference, not a pin’s
difference, if the armament is carried out to sea in another vessel
from a British port and there transshipped. Such an elaborate evasion
may be effectual against a Parliamentary statute, but it must be
impotent against a demand upon the British Government, according to
the principles of International Law; for this law looks always at
_substance_, and not _form_, and will not be diverted by the trick
of a pettifogger. Whether the armament be put on board in port or
at sea, England is always the _naval base_, or, according to the
language of Sir William Scott in a memorable case, the “station” or
“vantage-ground,” which he declared a neutral country could not be.[42]
Therefore the early precedent between the United States and England is
in every respect completely applicable; and since this precedent was
established _not only by the consent of England, but at her motion_, it
must be accepted on the present occasion as an irreversible declaration
of international duty. Other nations might differ, but England is
bound. And now it is her original interpretation, first made to take
compensation from us, which is flatly rejected when we ask compensation
from her. Even if the responsibility for _a hostile expedition_ fitted
out in British ports were not plain, there is something in the recent
conduct of the British Government calculated to remove all doubt.
Pirate ships are reported on the stocks ready to be launched, and when
the Parliamentary statute is declared insufficient to stop them, the
British Government declines to amend it, and, so doing, openly declines
to stop the pirate ships, saying, “If the Parliamentary statute is
inadequate, then let them sail.” It is not needful to consider the
apology. The act of declension is positive, and its consequences are
no less positive, _fixing beyond question the responsibility of the
British Government for these criminal expeditions_. Thus fixing the
responsibility, we but follow the suggestions of reason and the text of
an approved authority, whose words have been adopted in England.
“_It must be laid down as a maxim_, that a sovereign, who,
knowing the crimes of his subjects, as, for example, that
they _practice piracy_ on strangers, and, being also able and
obliged to hinder it, does not hinder it, _renders himself
criminal, because he has consented to the bad action, the
commission of which he has permitted_.… It is presumed that a
sovereign knows what his subjects openly and frequently commit;
and _as to his power of hindering the evil, this likewise is
always presumed_, unless the want of it be clearly proved.”[43]
Such are the words of Burlamaqui, in his work on Political Law, quoted
with approbation by Phillimore, in his work on the Law of Nations.[44]
Unless these words are discarded as “a maxim,” while the early
precedent of British demand upon us is also rudely rejected, it is
difficult to see how the British Government can avoid the consequences
of complicity with the pirate ships in all their lawless devastation.
I forbear to dwell on this accumulating liability, amounting already
to many millions of dollars, with accumulating exasperations also. My
present object is accomplished, if I make you see which way danger lies.
(13.) Beyond acts and words, this same British _rabbia_ shows itself
in the official tone towards the national cause in its unparalleled
struggle, especially throughout the correspondence of the British
Foreign Office. There is little friendship in any of these letters.
Nor is there any sympathy with the national championship against
Rebel Slavery, nor even one word of mildest dissent from the
miscreant apocalypse preached in its behalf. Naturally the tone is
in harmony with the sentiment. Hard, curt, captious, cynical, it
evinces indifference to that kindly intercourse which nations ought
to cultivate with each other, and which should be the study of a
wise statesmanship. The Malay _runs amuck_, and such is the British
diplomatic style in dealing with us. This is painfully conspicuous in
all that concerns the pirate ships. But I can well understand that a
Secretary conceding belligerent rights to Rebel Slavery so easily, and
then so easily permitting its ships to sally forth for piracy, would be
very indifferent to the tone of what he wrote. And yet, even outrage
may be soothed or softened by gentle words; but none such come out of
British diplomacy to us. Most deeply do I regret this too suggestive
failure. And believe me, fellow-citizens, I say these things with
sorrow unspeakable, and only in discharge of my duty, when, face to
face, I meet you to consider the aspects of our affairs abroad.
(14.) There is still another head of danger, in which all others
culminate. I refer to intrusive mediation, or, it may be, recognition
of the Slavemonger attempt as an independent nation,--for such
movements have been made openly in Parliament and urged constantly
by the British press, and, though not yet adopted by her Majesty’s
Government, have never been repelled on principle, so that they
constitute a perpetual cloud threatening to break. It is plain to all
who have not forgotten history, that England never can be guilty of
such recognition without unpardonable apostasy; nor can she intervene
by way of mediation, except in the interests of Freedom. And yet such
are the “elective affinities” newly born between England and Slavery,
such is the wilful blindness with regard to our country, kindred to
that which prevailed in the time of George Grenville and Lord North,
that her Majesty’s Government, instead of repelling the proposition,
simply adjourn it, adopting meanwhile the attitude of one watching to
strike. The British Minister at Washington, of model prudence, whose
individual desire for peace I cannot doubt, tells his Government, in a
despatch found in the last Blue Book, that as yet he sees no sign of “a
conjuncture at which foreign powers _may step in with propriety_ and
effect to put a stop to the effusion of blood.”[45] Here is the plain
assumption that such conjuncture may occur. For the present we are left
free to wage the battle against Slavery without any such intervention
in arrest of the national efforts.
Such are some of the warnings which lower from the English sky arching
the graves of Wilberforce and Clarkson, while sounding above these
sacred resting-places are heard strange, un-English voices, crying
out: “Come unto us, Rebel Slavemongers, whippers of women and sellers
of children!--for you are the people of our choice, whom we welcome
promptly to _ocean rights_, with Armstrong guns and _naval expeditions_
equipped in our ports, and on whom we lavish sympathy always and the
prophecy of success; while for you who uphold the Republic and oppose
Slavery we have hard words, criticism, rebuke, and the menace of war!”
* * * * *
Crossing the Channel into France, we are not encouraged much. And yet
the Emperor, though acting habitually in concert with the British
Cabinet, has not intermeddled so illogically or displayed a temper
of so little international amiability. The correspondence under his
direction, even at the most critical moments, leaves little to be
desired in respect of form. Nor has there been a single blockade-runner
under the French flag, nor a single pirate ship from a French port.
But, in spite of these things, it is too apparent that the Emperor
has taken sides against us in at least four important public acts,
positively, plainly, offensively. The Duc de Choiseul, Prime-Minister
of France, was addressed by Frederick of Prussia as “Coachman of
Europe,”--a title which belongs now to Louis Napoleon. But he must not
try to be “coachman of America.”
(1.) Following the example of England, Louis Napoleon acknowledges the
Rebel Slavemongers as _ocean_ belligerents, so that, with the sanction
of France, our ancient ally, their pirate ships, although without
a single open port which they can call their own, enjoy complete
immunity as lawful cruisers, while all who sympathize with them furnish
supplies and munitions of war. This fatal concession was aggravated by
the concurrence of the two great powers. But, God be praised, their
joint act, though capable of giving brief vitality to Slavery on pirate
decks, is impotent to confirm the intolerable pretension.
(2.) Sinister events are not alone, and this recognition of Slavery was
followed by an expedition of France, in concurrence with England and
Spain, against our neighbor Republic, Mexico. The two latter powers
very soon withdrew, but the Emperor, less wise, did not hesitate at
invasion. A French fleet, with an unmatched iron-clad,--the consummate
product of French naval art,--is now at Vera Cruz, and the French
army, after a protracted siege, has stormed Puebla and entered the
famous capital. This far-reaching enterprise was originally declared
to be nothing more than process, served by a general, for the recovery
of outstanding debts due to French citizens. But the Emperor, in a
mystic letter to General Forey, gives it another character. He proposes
nothing less than the restoration of the Latin race on this side of
the Atlantic, and more than intimates that the United States must be
restrained in power and influence over the Gulf of Mexico and the
Antilles. And now the Archduke Maximilian of Austria is proclaimed
Emperor of Mexico under the protection of France. It is obvious that
this imperial invasion, though only indirectly against us, would
not have been made, if our convulsions had not left the door of the
Continent ajar, so that foreign powers may bravely enter in. And it is
more obvious that this attempt to plant a throne by our side would
“have died before it saw the light,” had it not been supposed that
Rebel Slavery was about to triumph.[46] Plainly the whole transaction
is connected with our affairs. But it can be little more than a
transient experiment; for who can doubt that this imperial exotic,
planted by foreign care and propped by foreign bayonets, must disappear
before the ascending glory of the Republic?
(3.) This enterprise of war was followed by an enterprise of diplomacy
not less hardy. The Emperor, not content with stirring against us
the Gulf of Mexico, the Antilles, and the Latin race, entered upon
work of a different character. He invited England and Russia to unite
with France in tendering to the two “belligerents” (such is the equal
designation of our Republic and the embryo Slavemonger mockery!) a
joint mediation to procure “an armistice for six months, during which
every act of war, direct or indirect, should provisionally cease on
sea as well as on land, to be renewed, if necessary, for a further
period.” The Cabinets of England and Russia, better inspired, declined
the invitation, which looked to little short of recognition itself.
Under the proposed armistice, all our vast operations must have been
suspended, the blockade itself must have ceased, while the Rebel ports
were opened on the one side to unlimited supplies and military stores,
and on the other to unlimited exports of cotton. Trade, for the time,
would have been legalized in these ports, and Slavery would have lifted
its grinning front before the civilized world. Not disheartened by this
failure, the Emperor alone pushed forward his diplomatic enterprise
against us, as alone he had pushed forward his military enterprise
against Mexico, and presented to our Government the unsupported
mediation of France. His offer was promptly rejected by the President.
By solemn resolutions of both Houses, adopted with singular unanimity,
and communicated since to all foreign governments, Congress announced
that such a proposition could be attributed only to “a misunderstanding
of the true state of the question, and of the real character of the
war in which the Republic is engaged”; and that it was in its nature
so far injurious to the national interests that Congress would be
obliged to consider its repetition an unfriendly act.[47] This strong
language frankly states the true position of our country. Any such
offer, whatever its motive, must be an encouragement to the Rebellion.
In an age when ideas prevail and even words become things, the simple
declarations of statesmen are of incalculable importance. But the
head of a great nation is more than statesman in such influence. The
imperial proposition tended directly to the dismemberment of the
Republic and the substitution of a ghastly Slavemonger nation.
Baffled in this effort twice attempted, the Emperor does not yet
abandon his policy. We are told that it is “postponed to a more
suitable opportunity”; so that he, too, waits to strike, if the Gallic
cock does not sound alarm in an opposite quarter. Meanwhile the
development of the Mexican expedition shows too clearly the motive of
mediation. It was all one transaction. Mexico was invaded for empire,
and mediation was proposed to help the plot. But the invasion must fail
with the diplomacy to which it is allied.
(4.) The policy of the French Emperor towards our Republic is not left
to uncertain inference. For a long time public report has pronounced
him unfriendly, and now public report is confirmed by what he does
and says. The ambassadorial attorney of Rebel Slavery is received at
the Tuileries, members of Parliament on an errand of hostility to
our cause are received at Fontainebleau, and the open declaration
is made that the Emperor desires to recognize Rebel Slavery as an
independent power. This is hard to believe, but it is too true. The
French Emperor is against us. In an evil hour, under temptations which
should be scouted, he forgets the precious traditions of France,
whose blood commingled with ours in a common cause; he forgets the
swords of Lafayette and Rochambeau, flashing side by side with the
swords of Washington and the earlier Lincoln, while the lilies of
the ancient monarchy floated together with the stars of our infant
flag; he forgets that early alliance, sealed by Franklin, which gave
to the Republic the assurance of national life, and made France the
partner of her rising glory;--“_Heu pietas! heu prisca fides! Manibus
date lilia plenis!_”--and he forgets still more the obligations of
his own name,--how the first Napoleon surrendered to us Louisiana and
the whole region west of the Mississippi, saying: “This accession of
territory establishes forever the power of the United States, and gives
to England a maritime rival destined to humble her pride”;[48] and he
forgets, also, how he himself, when beginning intervention for Italian
liberty, boasted proudly that France always stood for an “idea”;
and forgetting these things, which mankind cannot forget, he seeks
the disjunction of this Republic, with the spoliation of that very
territory which came to us with such auspices, while France, always
standing for an “idea,” stands, under the second Napoleon, for the
“idea” of welcome to a new evangel of Slavery, with Mason and Slidell
as the evangelists. Thus is imperial influence exerted for Rebel
Slavemongers. The Emperor, for the present, forbears to fling his sword
into the scale; but he flings his heavy hand, if not his sword.
Only recently we have the menace of the sword. The throne of Mexico
is offered to an Austrian archduke. The desire to recognize the
independence of Rebel Slavery is openly declared. These two incidents
together are complements of each other. And now we are assured by
concurring report, that Mexico is to be maintained as an empire. The
policy of the Holy Alliance, originally organized against the great
Napoleon, is adopted by his representative on the throne of France.
What its despot authors left undone the present Emperor, nephew of the
first, proposes to accomplish. Report informs us that Texas also is
doomed to the imperial protectorate, thus ravishing a possession which
belongs to this Republic as much as Normandy belongs to France.[49]
The partition of Poland is acknowledged to be the great crime of the
last century. It was accomplished by three powers, with the silent
connivance of the rest, but not without pangs of remorse in one of
the spoilers. “I know,” said Maria Theresa to the ambassador of Louis
the Sixteenth, “that I have brought a deep stain on my reign by what
has been done in Poland; but I am sure that I should be forgiven,
if it could be known what repugnance I had to it.”[50] Here on this
Continent the French Emperor seeks to play the very part which of old
caused the contrition of Maria Theresa; nor could the partition of our
broad country--if, in an evil hour, it were accomplished--fail to be
the great crime of the present century. Trampler upon the Republic in
France, trampler upon the Republic in Mexico, it remains to be seen if
the French Emperor can prevail as trampler upon this Republic. I do not
think he can; nor am I anxious on account of this new-found Emperor,
who will be another King Canute against the rising tide of the American
people. His chair must be withdrawn, or he will be overwhelmed.[51]
* * * * *
Here I bring to an end this unpleasant review. It is with little
satisfaction, and only in explanation of our relations with foreign
powers, that I accumulate these instances, not one of which, small or
great, is without its painful lesson, while they all testify with a
single voice to the perils of our country.