Cruise of the Constitution -- Action with the Cyane and
Levant -- Chased by a British fleet -- England's views of
neutral rights and the law of nations -- Her honor and
integrity at a discount -- Singular escape of the
Constitution -- Recapture of the Levant under the guns of a
neutral port -- Lampoons on the English squadron for its
contemptible conduct -- Decatur -- Capture of the President
-- The Hornet captures the Penguin -- Chased by a ship of
the line -- Narrow escape -- Cruise of the Peacock -- Review
of the American Navy -- Its future destiny.
Naval warfare did not cease with the peace, for it was a long time
before all our cruisers received notice of it.
The old Constitution, when Bainbridge gave up the command of her in
1813, was put on the stocks to undergo repairs, and did not get to sea
again till 1814, when, under the command of Captain Stewart, she
cruised southward, without meeting any vessel of her own size.
[Sidenote: 1814.] She took the Nector, a war schooner of fourteen
guns, and a few merchantmen, and returned to Boston. On the 17th of
December she again put to sea, and cruised off the coast of Portugal.
[Sidenote: Feb. 20, 1815.]
Not meeting with the enemy, Captain Stewart, on the 20th of February,
1815, stood off south-west towards Madeira, and in the afternoon made
two strange sail. He immediately started in pursuit of the nearest,
hoping to overtake her before she could join her consort. The moment,
however, the stranger discovered the Constitution, he stood away under
every stitch of canvass he could spread. The Constitution also "set
studding sails alow and aloft," and under a perfect cloud of canvass,
bowled along at a tremendous rate. At length the main royal mast of
the latter gave way in the strain, which gave the stranger so much the
advantage that he effected a junction with his consort. The two then
hailed each other, "came by the wind, hauled up their courses," and
cleared for action. They were the Cyane, carrying thirty-four guns,
and the Levant, twenty-one--the crew of the former numbering one
hundred and eighty men, the latter one hundred and fifty-six.
They manoeuvered for some time to get to the windward, but finding
this impossible they awaited the approach of the American, who had now
set his colors. It was a bright moonlight night, and the two English
vessels presented a beautiful spectacle, as they lay rising and
falling on the long swell, gallantly turned at bay. As the
Constitution approached, they cheered, and fired their broadsides. No
answer was given. In stern and ominous silence the invincible frigate
moved on, and ranging up about three hundred yards distant from the
Cyane, delivered her broadside. So ready and eager were the men to
fire, that when the order was given, the whole broadside was like the
report of a single gun. She had taken her position to windward, and so
as to form with the two vessels nearly an equilateral triangle, and in
this masterly position flung her heavy metal against both alike. From
the first gun the action became fierce and the cannonading incessant.
After the lapse of fifteen minutes the fire of the enemy slackened,
and Captain Stewart, unable to see their whereabouts, from the cloud
of smoke that enveloped his ship, ordered the cannonading to cease
till it passed off. In three minutes it lifted and rolled away before
the wind, and he saw that the vessels had changed their position, the
Levant being abeam, while the Cyane was evidently endeavoring to cross
his wake and give him a raking fire. Instantly delivering a broadside
to the vessel abeam, he by one of those sudden and prompt movements on
which the fate of a vessel or an army often turns, threw his mizen and
main sails flat aback, "shook all forward," let fly his jib sheet, and
backed so swiftly astern[9] that the vessel was compelled to tack or
be raked herself. While doing this the other ship attempted to cross
his bows for the same purpose. The Constitution was again too quick
for her, for as if by magic the yards swung round to the hearty "Yo,
heave oh!" of the sailors--the sails filled, and bowing to the breeze,
she shot ahead, compelling the vessel to ware under a tremendous and
raking broadside, which cut her up so terribly that she had to run out
of the action to repair damages. He had scarcely delivered this
crushing blow when he was told the largest ship was waring. He
instantly gave orders to ware also, and crossing the enemy's stern,
raked her as he passed. He then ranged up alongside, when she struck,
and Lieutenant Hoffman was put in command of her.
[Footnote 9: Vide Cooper.]
The Levant, in the mean time, having repaired her rigging, hauled up
again to seek her consort, when she met the Constitution coming down.
She immediately bore away, receiving as she did so, a raking
broadside. The Constitution followed in her wake, firing, and
following so close that the ripping of the enemy's planks, as the shot
tore through them, could be distinctly heard on her decks. This, of
course, could not be endured long, and a gun was soon fired to
leeward, in token of submission.
The loss of the enemy, in this action, was between sixty and seventy,
while that of the Constitution was only fifteen. The latter, however,
was hulled thirteen times, showing very accurate firing by moonlight.
The masterly manner in which Captain Stewart handled his vessel, so
that, large and unwieldy as she was, he thwarted every manoeuvre to
rake him, and raked both his enemies successively, proved him to be a
thorough seaman and an able commander.
[Sidenote: 1815.]
The Constitution proceeded with her two prizes to Port Praya, in St.
Jago, where she arrived the 10th of March. The next day while
Lieutenant Shubrick was walking the quarter-deck, he heard one of the
prisoners, a midshipman, exclaim: "There is a frigate in the offing!"
This was followed by a low subdued reprimand from an English captain.
Shubrick's suspicions were awakened, and he looked earnestly seaward.
A heavy fog lay close on the water, diminishing into a haze as it left
the surface, so that the spars of a ship could be seen, while her hull
was obscured. Through this he saw the dim outlines of the sails of a
large vessel, evidently standing in, and immediately went below and
reported the circumstance to Captain Stewart. The latter ordered him
to call all hands and make ready to go in chase of her. Shubrick had
scarcely given the orders when he saw the sails of two other vessels
above the fog. Stewart gave them one glance and saw immediately they
were heavy men-of-war. Though in a neutral port, and by the law of
nations safe from attack, he was well aware that it would not avail
him. So low had the honor of the English nation sunk in the estimation
of independent States, that weak neutral powers knew they would not
be allowed to afford the protection which it was their right and duty
to extend, while our naval commanders had ceased to expect the
recognition of those rights, guarantied by the usage of civilized
governments. Captain Stewart immediately signalled the Cyane and
Levant to put to sea, and cutting his own cables, not waiting even to
take in his boats, he ordered the sails sheeted home. In ten minutes
the gallant frigate was standing out of the roads, followed by her
prizes.
This silent declaration that men could no longer rely on the honor and
good faith of his majesty's officers, in respecting the law of nations
or the rights of neutral powers, was one of the most cutting rebukes
that could have been uttered. It was well that Captain Stewart rated
these qualities so low, or he doubtless would have been attacked and
overcome, though, under the guns of the battery of the port. No doubt
the Constitution would have fought worthy of her old renown, and like
the Essex, in the Bay of Valparaiso, gained more honor in her death
than in her life.
As Stewart stood out to windward, the three vessels, which he
afterwards learned to be the Leander and Newcastle of 50, and the
Acasta of 40 guns, crowded all sail in chase. Stewart then cut adrift
his cutter and gig, towing astern, and set every sail that would draw.
Under the north-east trades that were then blowing, the Constitution
was soon rushing along at a tremendous rate, outsailing all her
pursuers but the Acasta. But Stewart, perceiving that the Cyane was
steadily losing ground, and if she kept her course must evidently be
captured, made signal for her to tack, which was instantly obeyed. Not
a vessel, however, was detached in pursuit, as he had expected, but
the whole three kept on after the Constitution and Levant. In an hour
and a half the Newcastle got within gun-shot, and began to fire by
divisions, rending the fog with flame, but leaving the Constitution
unharmed. A half an hour after, Stewart, who with his glass in his
hand had incessantly walked the quarter-deck, watching the movements
of the enemy and their progress, saw that the Levant, if she held her
course, would soon be captured, made signal for her to tack also.
The foam rolled with a seething sound from the bows of the
Constitution as she rushed rapidly through the water, but it was
evident that the Acasta, which had fallen in her wake, could outsail
her. An engagement with this vessel was apparently inevitable, and
unless Stewart could prolong the chase till she was drawn so far from
the others as to enable him to close with and carry her before they
came up, he must be taken. But to his astonishment the whole three
turned in pursuit of the Levant, leaving him to sail away unmolested.
[Sidenote: April 10.]
The Cyane, in the mean time, had disappeared in the fog, and finding
that she was shut out of view, changed her course, and escaping the
enemy, finally arrived safely in New York. The Levant, however, was
not so fortunate. Seeing herself closely pressed, she put back to
port, and though receiving the enemy's fire, stood on till she
anchored within 150 yards of the shore, and under the very guns of a
powerful battery. Disregarding her position which rendered her
inviolable, the three vessels continued to approach, firing as they
did so, throwing their shot even into the town, doing considerable
damage. Lieutenant Shubrick, finding that the battery would not
protect him, and that the enemy had no intention of respecting the
neutrality of the port, struck his flag. The firing, however,
continued for some time after.
The English officer, when he came on board to take possession of her,
supposed she was an American vessel, but to his great chagrin found
that the whole squadron had succeeded, after a chase of several hours,
in recapturing a prize in a neutral port.
"Old Ironsides" swept proudly onward over the ocean, remaining
unconquered to the last, the glory of the navy and the boast of the
land.
The news of the victory over the Cyane and Levant, and the after
chase, reached New York from St. Bartholomews, without giving the
results, and it was feared for a time that she had fallen into the
hands of the enemy. When her safety was ascertained the exultation was
great, for she was a great favorite, and had become deeply fixed in
the affections of the people. As she came sweeping up Boston harbor,
crowds gathered to the shore, answering with deafening cheers the
thunder of her guns, as they broke over the bay.
The abandonment of this frigate by the whole English squadron, to
chase a single ship, furnished the occasion of many witticisms,
levelled against the English officers. They reported that they lost
her in a fog, but if either vessel had kept on alone, Captain Stewart
would have been careful not to have been lost, and when a safe
distance from the others had been obtained, allowed himself to be
easily overtaken.[10]
[Footnote 10: One "SQUIB" represented King George as walking his lawn
one morning, anxiously waiting to hear the success of this squadron,
which he had sent out expressly to capture the Ironsides, when the
three captains of the vessels that chased her presented themselves.
King George, in his peculiar manner, asks:--
"with sparkling eyes,
'Hey! hey! what news? what news? hey! hey! he cries--
His Majesty to hear, was all agog;
When Stuart--Collins--Kerr--with crimsoned face
Thus spake--'We gave the Constitution chase,
And, oh! great sire, we lost her in _a fog_!'
"'Fog! fog! _what fog? hey! Stuart, what fog? say!_
_So then the foe escaped you, Stuart? hey!_'
'Yes, please your Majesty, and hard our fate'--
'But why not, Stuart, _different courses steer_?'
Stuart replied, (impute it not to fear,)
'WE THOUGHT IT PRUDENT NOT TO SEPARATE.'"]
[Sidenote: 1815.]
The President, that did not get to sea till the middle of January, or
just before the news of peace was received, was more unfortunate.
Commodore Rodgers, during the summer, had been transferred from that
vessel to the Guerriere, and Decatur took the command. The latter,
with the United States and Macedonian, had been blockaded, as before
stated, all summer at New London, where he had challenged Captain
Hardy to meet him ship with ship, or to make a match between the
United States and Macedonian, and the Endymion and Statira.
Although he took command in the summer, he did not go to sea till
mid-winter, when with the Hornet, which had run the blockade at New
London in November, the Peacock, and store ship Tom Bowline, he
prepared for a long cruise to the East Indies. [Sidenote: Jan. 14.]
The President dropped down to Sandy Hook on the night of the 14th, but
in attempting to cross the bar struck, and lay thumping for an hour
and a half before she swung clear. She was evidently damaged by the
shock, but Decatur thought it best to keep on, as a heavy storm the
day before had driven the blockading squadron southward.
Before daylight, next morning, he discovered a sail ahead, and two
hours later two more, and when daylight made more distant objects
visible, four vessels were seen, crowding all sail in chase. The
President was heavily laden for a long voyage, which with the damage
she had received on the bar, impeded very much her sailing. Still,
with a stiff breeze, she might have distanced her pursuers, for with
the wind light and baffling, the nearest vessel, the Majestic, a
razee, was thrown astern. But the Endymion, forty, the next nearest
vessel, evidently outsailed her, and was fast closing. Decatur then
called all hands to lighten the ship. The anchors were cut away,
provisions, cables, spars, boats, and every thing on which hands could
be laid were thrown overboard, and the sails kept wet from the royals
down, to hold the tantalizing wind. It was impossible in such hasty
unloading to keep the vessel trim, and while it was being done she
very probably sailed slower than before. The wind, however, was so
light, that both frigates made slow headway, and it was not till the
middle of the afternoon that the Endymion closed sufficiently to open
her fire. The President answered with stern guns, and a running fight
was kept up till five o'clock, when the former was within half
gun-shot and on the quarter of the latter, which, of course, could not
bring a gun to bear. Decatur, in this position, bore the fire of the
frigate for half an hour, when he resolved to carry her by boarding,
and escape. But the Endymion kept her advantageous position, so that
he could not carry his bold and gallant resolution into effect, and
as a last resort he determined at dusk to close, and so cripple her
before the rest of the vessels arrived, that she must abandon the
pursuit. Coming up abeam he poured in his broadsides, and for two
hours and a half, running free all the time, the two vessels kept up a
close and heavy cannonade. At half-past eight the Endymion was
completely dismantled, while the President was under royal studding
sails, and able to choose her own position. Twenty minutes more would
have finished the English frigate, for she was too much cut up to be
manageable; but the other vessels were now close at hand, and the
President hauled up to resume her course. In doing this the vessel was
exposed to a raking broadside, but not a gun was fired. She then
crowded all sail, but at eleven o'clock was overhauled by the Pomone
and Tenedos and Majestic, the former of which poured in a broadside
within musket shot. Resistance, in the President's crippled state was
hopeless, and the flag was struck. Decatur surrendered his sword to
the commander of the Majestic, nearly four hours before the Endymion
came up, and yet the captain of the latter claimed the victory, and to
this day the arrogant assertion finds endorsers in England. One vessel
goes out of an action with royal studding sails set and surrenders to
a superior force, so far from the spot where it took place that it
requires nearly four hours steady sailing for the other to get up,
and yet the latter is declared the victor![11]
[Footnote 11: Mr. Alison asserts that the President was completely
beaten before the arrival of the other vessels.]
This absurd pretence, however, was completely set at rest by a
document signed by the officers of the Pomona, and published at
Bermuda, whither the fleet sailed. After giving the details of the
chase, they say the running fight between the President and Endymion
ceased "at half-past eight, the Endymion falling astern--Pomona
passing her at half-past eight. At eleven, being within gun-shot of
the President," &c. "At _three-quarters_ past twelve the Endymion came
up," &c.
Both these vessels were dismasted in a hurricane before reaching
Bermuda, six days after. The Peacock, Hornet, and Tom Bowline, put to
sea and sailed for the island of Triston d'Acunha, the place of
rendezvous appointed by Decatur. The Peacock and Tom Bowline arrived
first. The Hornet having parted company in chase of a vessel, did not
come in till the 23d of March. [Sidenote: 1815.] Just as she was about
to anchor, the watch aft sung out "Sail ho!" The sails were
immediately sheeted home again, and the Hornet bore swiftly down
towards the stranger. The latter did not shun the combat, but coming
to, set her colors and fired a challenge gun. The vessel was the
Penguin, of the size and metal of the Hornet, with some additional
equipments, which made her of superior force. There was not the
difference of a dozen men in the crews. A more decisive single combat
could not have been arranged, if the sole purpose of it had been to
test the seamanship and real practical superiority of the American
navy, for the Penguin had been fitted up and sent out for the sole
purpose of encountering and capturing the Wasp, a heavier and newer
vessel than the Hornet.
There was no manoeuvring--from the first gun to the last, it was a
steady broadside to broadside engagement, the vessels gradually
drifting nearer as they fired. The Hornet was wrapped in flame from
stem to stern, so incessant were her discharges, and in fifteen
minutes the commander of the Penguin, finding that he would soon be a
total wreck, put up his helm to board, and surged with a heavy crash
full on the Hornet's quarter. The first lieutenant immediately called
on his men to board, but they would not follow him. The American crew
then wished to board, in turn, but Captain Biddle, seeing that his
guns were rending the enemy in pieces, restrained their ardor, and
recommenced firing. The sea was heavy, and as the two vessels rose and
fell together on the huge swell, the strain was so great that the
Penguin carried away the Hornet's mizen rigging and spanker boom, and
swung round against her quarter. While in this position, an English
officer cried out that he surrendered. Captain Biddle then ordered the
firing to cease, and leaping on the taffrail, inquired if the vessel
had struck. Two marines on the enemy's forecastle levelled their
pieces at him and fired--the ball of one entering his neck, inflicting
a painful wound. Enraged at this treacherous act, the crew of the
Hornet poured in a sudden volley of musketry, which stretched the two
marines dead on the deck. In the same moment the vessels parted, the
Hornet forging ahead, carrying the enemy's bowsprit and foremast with
her. The latter then wore, and was about to pour in a raking
broadside, when twenty men rushed to the side of the ship, lifting up
their hands and calling for quarter. It was with the greatest
difficulty Captain Biddle could restrain his men, so excited were they
at the attempt on their commander's life.
The loss of the Penguin in this short action was forty-two killed and
wounded, while the Hornet had but a single man killed and only ten
wounded. Among the latter was Lieutenant (since Commodore) Conner,
who, though helpless and bleeding, refused to leave the deck till the
enemy struck. This disparity shows in a striking manner the superior
gunnery of the American navy.
The Penguin was dreadfully cut up, and Captain Biddle, unable to man
her, scuttled and sunk her. Converting the Tom Bowline into a cartel
to take the prisoners to St. Salvador, he, with Captain Harrington of
the Peacock, waited the arrival of the President. But these two
commanders soon received information which convinced them that Decatur
had, in all probability, fallen into the hands of the enemy.
[Sidenote: April 13.] They, therefore, soon as the time fixed by him
had expired, proceeded on the original cruise, steering for the Indian
Seas. On the 27th, the Peacock, which was ahead, made signal that a
strange vessel was in sight, when all sail was set in chase. At night
it fell calm, but a stiff breeze arising with the sun, the chase
recommenced and continued till near three o'clock, when the Peacock,
about six miles ahead, appeared to be moving cautiously, as if
suspicious that all was not right. From the first, the chase was
supposed to be a homeward bound East Indiaman, as they were now in the
track of those vessels. The sailors of the Hornet were consequently
very much elated with the prospect of so rich a prize, declaring that
they would carpet the berth deck with India silk, and murmuring that
the Peacock sailed so much faster, as she would have the first chance
at the plunder.
These pleasant anticipations suffered a sudden collapse when the
Peacock, at half-past three, signalled that the stranger was an enemy
and a line-of-battle ship. Notwithstanding the danger, there was
something inconceivably ludicrous in the blank consternation that fell
on the ship, exhibited in rueful countenances, the long-drawn whistle
or laconic emphatic expression. The next moment, however, all was
bustle and confusion--quick and sharp orders rung over the vessel, she
was hauled upon the wind, and made off as fast as wind and sail could
bear her. The Peacock, being a very fast sailer, soon left the enemy
behind. Not so with the Hornet; although she spread every yard of
canvass that would draw, it was evident by eight at night the
man-of-war was gaining on her. An hour after all hands were turned to
to lighten the ship. An anchor and cable first went over with some
heavy spare spars and rigging. The ward-room was then scuttled to get
at the kentledge, twelve tons of which were thrown overboard. Still
the enemy gained, and his huge proportions loomed threateningly
through the gloom, filling the crew of the gallant little Hornet with
the keenest anxiety. It was a state of painful suspense to Captain
Biddle and his officers, and they watched with sinking hearts the
steady approach of their formidable foe. At day dawn he was within
gun-shot, and soon after, hoisting to the mizen-top-gallant-mast
English colors and a rear-admiral's flag, he opened with his bow
guns. Captain Biddle then ordered the remaining anchors cut away, the
cables heaved overboard, together with more kentledge, shot,
provision, the launch and six guns. The firing was kept up for four
hours, most of the shot overreaching the Hornet. Perceiving at length,
that his firing deadened the wind, and hence his headway, the enemy
ceased it at 11 o'clock, and soon again began to overhaul the chase.
Captain Biddle then gave the reluctant order to throw over all the
remaining guns but one, with the muskets, cutlasses, etc., in short,
every thing above and below that could lighten the ship. Still his
formidable antagonist steadily gained upon him, and at noon was within
three quarters of a mile, when he opened with round and grape shot and
shells, which dashed the spray about the little Hornet, yet most
marvellously missed her. The water was smooth and it seemed that every
shot would strike, yet only three hit the vessel. At this critical
period of the chase the excitement of the crew was intense--the sails
were watched with the keenest solicitude, while the sailors were
ordered to lie down on the quarter deck to trim the vessel. It was
impossible that the Hornet's spars and sails could long escape this
close and incessant cannonade; and Captain Biddle, knowing that the
first mishap to either must be the signal to strike his flag, called
his fatigued crew about him, and after commending their good conduct
in the long chase, expressed the hope they would still behave with the
propriety which had always marked their character, now that their
capture was almost certain. Those gallant tars saw the quivering lip
of their noble commander when he spoke of capture, and scarcely a dry
eye was seen on deck. He resolved, however, not to cease his efforts
so long as a ray of hope remained, and held on his sluggish course
amid the raining shot, his eye now turned aloft to see if the rigging
and spars were still safe, and now towards the horizon that, to his
delight, was getting black and squally.
At length, after enduring this firing for two hours, expecting every
moment to be crippled, he saw with irrepressible joy the wind change
to a favorable quarter and freshen. His vessel then began to creep
away from his pursuer. As the distance increased between them, joy and
hope lighted up the countenances of all on board the Hornet, and the
gathering squalls and rising sea were hailed as deliverers. At sunset
the man-of-war was three miles astern. In the intervals of the squalls
his huge proportions could be seen all night long against the sky,
still crowding sail in pursuit. But the Hornet was now running nine
knots an hour, and by daylight had gained so much that the stranger,
a few hours after, abandoned the chase.
Her escape seemed miraculous; for when the man-of-war opened his fire
the second time upon her he was as near as the United States ever got
to the Macedonian before the latter was a total wreck.
Without guns or shot, stripped of every thing, Captain Biddle retraced
his steps and reached New York the last day of July.
The Peacock continued her course and cruised for some time in the
straits of Sunda, where she made three captures. On the last of June
she encountered the Nautilus, of 14 guns, which after a single
broadside surrendered. Learning from the commander of the latter that
peace had been declared, Captain Warrington immediately restored the
vessel.
This was the last vessel captured during the war, and the combat
between the Hornet and the Penguin was the last regular action. Thus
our little navy commenced and closed its career with a victory. In
fact its history had been reports of victories. So constant and
astounding had they become, that for a long time before the war closed
England ceased to publish official accounts of her naval defeats. In
the first flush of indignation at these reverses on the sea, the
English repelled with scorn the implication that they had at last
found a successful rival. Excuses and reasons for them were ample,
and fairer experiments were demanded before so humiliating a thought
should be entertained. Our ships, they said, were falsely rated, and
in those first single contests the equality was merely nominal, not
real. The ignorant and conceited maintained their arrogant, boastful
tone to the end; but as the war advanced the more reflecting felt that
the repeated victories gained by us could not be swept away by
assertions that the world would not reason as they wished it to, and
were compelled to admit that their "moral effect was astounding." Well
it might be. We know of nothing in the annals of civilized warfare
compared to the boldness and success of our little navy during the
war. The battles of the Nile and Trafalgar, which had covered the
English fleets with glory, had been for years ringing over our land.
Flushed with victory and confident of success, they bore down on our
coast. With only a handful of ships to offer against this overwhelming
force, our commanders nevertheless stood boldly out to sea, and flung
their flags of defiance to the breeze. The world looked with amazement
on the rashness that could provoke so unequal a strife; but while it
waited to hear that our little navy was blown out of the water, the
news came of the loss of the Guerriere. Report after report of
victories gained by us, followed with stunning rapidity. "The English
were defeated on their own element," was the universal exclamation,
and her indisputed claim to the seas was broken forever. The courage
that could bear up against such fearful odds and pluck the wreath of
victory from the English navy, has covered the commanders of that time
with abiding honors. Our rights were restored--our commerce
protected--and the haughty bearing of England towards us chastized
from her forever. The British flag had been lowered so often to the
"stars and stripes," that respect and fear usurped the place of
contempt and pride.
The true reasons of our success are to be found in our superior
gunnery and the greater aptitude of the Americans for the sea. We are
a maritime people, and have since outstripped England in the peaceful
paths of commerce as much as we outmanoeuvred, outsailed, and beat her
in the war. Whether the ships of the two countries dash side by side
in fraternal feeling through the heavy floes of the northern seas, or
in a spirit of rivalry press together across the Atlantic, or sweep
where the monsoons blow, ours still lead those of England. The
elements of such a maritime nation as ours is destined to be, have
never existed since the creation. Let the rate of progress which her
commerce has maintained for the last thirty-five years be as a rule to
gauge where she will be thirty-five years hence, and the mind is
amazed at the result.