War, Sir, is the saddest chapter of history. It is known as “the
last reason of kings.” Alas, that it should ever be the reason of a
Republic! “There can be no such thing, my Lords, as a little war for a
great nation,” was the exclamation of the Duke of Wellington,[24] which
I heard from his own lips, as he protested against what to some seemed
petty. Gathering all the vigor of his venerable form, the warrior
seasoned in a hundred fights cried out, and all within the sound of his
voice felt the testimony. The reason is obvious. War, whether great or
little, whether on the fields of France or the island of San Domingo,
is war, over which hovers not only Death, but every demon of wrath. Nor
is war merely conflict on a chosen field; it is force employed by one
nation against another, or in the affairs of another,--as in the direct
menace to Hayti, and the intermeddling between Baez and Cabral. There
may be war without battle. Hercules conquered by manifest strength the
moment he appeared on the ground, so that his club rested unused. And
so our Navy has thus far conquered without a shot; but its presence in
the waters of Hayti and Dominica was war.