will use this very Amendment as the pudding-stick with which to stir the bubbling mass. Such a controversy should be avoided, if possible; nor should an agitation so unwelcome and so sterile be needlessly invited. “Let us have peace.”

Of course, if there were no other way of accomplishing the great result, the Amendment should be presented, even with all its delays, uncertainties, and provocations to local strife. But happily all these are unnecessary. The same thing may be accomplished by Act of Congress, without any delay, without any uncertainty, and without any provocation to local strife. The same vote of two thirds required for the presentation of the Amendment will pass the Act over the veto of the President. Once adopted, it will go into instant operation, without waiting for the uncertain concurrence of State Legislatures, and without provoking local strife so wearisome to the country. The States will not be turned into political caldrons, and the Democratic party will have no pudding-stick with which to stir the bubbling mass.

I do not depart from the proprieties of this occasion, when I show how completely the course I now propose harmonizes with the requirements of the political party to which I belong. Believing most sincerely that the Republican party, in its objects, is identical with country and with mankind, so that in sustaining it I sustain these comprehensive charities, I cannot willingly see this agency lose the opportunity of confirming its supremacy. You need votes in Connecticut, do you not? There are three thousand fellow-citizens in that State ready at the call of Congress to take their place at the ballot-box. You need them also in Pennsylvania, do you not? There are at least fifteen thousand in that great State waiting for your summons. Wherever you most need them, there they are; and be assured they will all vote for those who stand by them in the assertion of Equal Rights. In standing by them you stand by all that is most dear in the Republic.

Pardon me,—but, if you are not moved by considerations of justice under the Constitution, then I appeal to that humbler motive which is found in the desire for success. Do this and you will assure the triumph of all that you can most desire. Party, country, mankind, will be elevated, while the Equal Rights of All will be fixed on a foundation not less enduring than the Rock of Ages.

CLAIMS ON ENGLAND,—INDIVIDUAL AND NATIONAL.

I do not disguise the importance of this act; but I believe that in the interest of peace, which every one should have at heart, the treaty must be rejected. A treaty, which, instead of removing an existing grievance, leaves it for heart-burning and rancor, cannot be considered a settlement of pending questions between two nations. It may seem to settle them, but does not. It is nothing but a snare. And such is the character of the treaty now before us. The massive grievance under which our country suffered for years is left untouched; the painful sense of wrong planted in the national heart is allowed to remain. For all this there is not one word of regret, or even of recognition; nor is there any semblance of compensation. It cannot be for the interest of either party that such a treaty should be ratified. It cannot promote the interest of the United States, for we naturally seek justice as the foundation of a good understanding with Great Britain; nor can it promote the interest of Great Britain, which must also seek a real settlement of all pending questions. Surely I do not err, when I say that a wise statesmanship, whether on our side or on the other side, must apply itself to find the real root of evil, and then, with courage tempered by candor and moderation, see that it is extirpated. This is for the interest of both parties, and anything short of it is a failure. It is sufficient to say that the present treaty does no such thing, and that, whatever may have been the disposition of the negotiators, the real root of evil remains untouched in all its original strength.

I make these remarks merely to characterize the treaty and prepare the way for its consideration.

THE PENDING TREATY.

If we look at the negotiation which immediately preceded the treaty, we find little to commend. You have it on your table. I think I am not mistaken, when I say that it shows a haste which finds few precedents in diplomacy, but which is explained by the anxiety to reach a conclusion before the advent of a new Administration. Mr. Seward and Mr. Reverdy Johnson unite in this unprecedented activity, using the Atlantic cable freely. I should not object to haste, or to the freest use of the cable, if the result were such as could be approved; but, considering the character of the transaction, and how completely the treaty conceals the main cause of offence, it seems as if the honorable negotiators were engaged in huddling something out of sight.

The treaty has for its model the Claims Convention of 1853. To take such a convention as a model was a strange mistake. This convention was for the settlement of outstanding claims of American citizens on Great Britain, and of British subjects on the United States, which had arisen since the Treaty of Ghent in 1814. It concerned individuals only, and not the nation. It was not in any respect political; nor was it to remove any sense of national wrong. To take such a convention as the model for a treaty which was to determine a national grievance of transcendent importance in the relations of two countries marked on the threshold an insensibility to the true nature of the difference to be settled. At once it belittled the work to be done.

An inspection of the treaty shows how from beginning to end it is merely for the settlement of individual claims on both sides, putting the two batches on an equality, so that the sufferers by the misconduct of England may be counterbalanced by British blockade-runners. It opens with a preamble, which, instead of announcing the unprecedented question between the two countries, simply refers to individual claims that have arisen since 1853,—the last time of settlement,—some of which are still pending and remain unsettled. Who would believe that under these words of commonplace was concealed the unsettled difference which has already so deeply stirred the American people, and is destined, until finally adjusted, to occupy the attention of the civilized world? Nothing here gives notice of the real question. I quote the preamble, as it is the key-note to the treaty:—

The provisions of the treaty are for the trial of these cases. A commission is constituted, which is empowered to choose an arbitrator; but, in the event of a failure to agree, the arbitrator shall be determined “by lot” from two persons, one named by each side. Even if this aleatory proceeding were a proper device in the umpirage of private claims, it is strangely inconsistent with the solemnity which belongs to the present question. The moral sense is disturbed by such a process at any stage of the trial; nor is it satisfied by the subsequent provision for the selection of a sovereign or head of a friendly state as arbitrator.

The treaty not merely makes no provision for the determination of the great question, but it seems to provide expressly that it shall never hereafter be presented. A petty provision for individual claims, subject to a set-off by the individual claims of England, so that in the end our country may possibly receive nothing, is the consideration for this strange surrender. I borrow a term from an English statesman on another occasion, if I call it a “capitulation.”[52] For the settlement of a few individual claims, we condone the original far-reaching and destructive wrong. Here are the plain words by which this is done:—

All this I quote directly from the treaty. It is Article V. The national cause is handled as nothing more than a bundle of individual claims, and the result of the proceedings under the proposed treaty is to be “a full and final settlement,” so that hereafter all claims “shall be considered and treated as finally settled and barred, and thenceforth inadmissible.” Here is no provision for the real question, which, though thrust out of sight, or declared to be “finally settled and barred,” according to the terms of the treaty, must return to plague the two countries. Whatever the treaty may say in terms, there is no settlement in fact; and until this is made, there will be constant menace of discord. Nor can it be forgotten that there is no recognition of the rule of international duty applicable to such cases. This, too, is left unsettled.

While doing so little for us, the treaty makes ample provision for all known claims on the British side. As these are exclusively “individual,” they are completely covered by the text, which has no limitations or exceptions. Already it is announced in England that even those of “Confederate bondholders” are included. I have before me an English journal which describes the latter claims as founded on “immense quantities of cotton, worth at the time of their seizure nearly two shillings a pound, which were then in the legal possession of those bondholders”; and the same authority adds, “These claims will be brought, indifferently with others, before the designed joint commission, whenever it shall sit.” From another quarter I learn that these bondholders are “very sanguine of success under the treaty as it is worded, and certain it is that the loan went up from 0 to 10 as soon as it was ascertained that the treaty was signed.” I doubt if the American people are ready just now to provide for any such claims. That they have risen in the market is an argument against the treaty.

THE CASE AGAINST ENGLAND.

Passing from the treaty, I come now to consider briefly, but with proper precision, the true ground of complaint; and here again we shall see the constant inadequacy of the remedy now applied. It is with reluctance that I enter upon this statement, and I do it only in the discharge of a duty which cannot be postponed.

Close upon the outbreak of our troubles, little more than one month after the bombardment of Fort Sumter, when the Rebellion was still undeveloped, when the National Government was beginning those gigantic efforts which ended so triumphantly, the country was startled by the news that the British Government had intervened by a Proclamation which accorded belligerent rights to the Rebels. At the early date when this was done, the Rebels were, as they remained to the close, without ships on the ocean, without prize courts or other tribunal for the administration of justice on the ocean, without any of those conditions which are the essential prerequisites to such a concession; and yet the concession was general, being applicable to the ocean and the land, so that by British fiat they became ocean belligerents as well as land belligerents. In the swiftness of this bestowal there was very little consideration for a friendly power; nor does it appear that there was any inquiry into those conditions-precedent on which it must depend. Ocean belligerency, being a “fact,” and not a “principle,” can be recognized only on evidence showing its actual existence, according to the rule first stated by Mr. Canning and afterward recognized by Lord John Russell.[53] But no such evidence was adduced; for it did not exist, and never has existed.

Too much stress cannot be laid upon the rule, that belligerency is a “fact,” and not a “principle.” It is perhaps the most important contribution to this discussion; and its original statement, on the occasion of the Greek Revolution, does honor to its author, unquestionably the brightest genius ever directed to this subject. According to this rule, belligerency must be proved to exist; it must be shown. It cannot be imagined, or divined, or invented; it must exist as a “fact” within the knowledge of the world, or at least as a “fact” susceptible of proof. Nor can it be inferred on the ocean merely from its existence on the land. From the beginning, when “God called the dry land Earth, and the gathering together of the waters called He Seas,” the two have been separate, and power over one has not necessarily implied power over the other. There is a dominion of the land, and a dominion of the ocean. But, whatever power the Rebels possessed on the land, they were always without power on the ocean. Admitting that they were belligerents on the land, they were never belligerents on the ocean.

these they never possessed. Such was the “fact” that must govern the present question. The rule, so simple, plain, and intelligible, as stated by Mr. Canning, is a decisive touchstone of the British concession, which, when brought to it, is found to be without support.

Unfriendly in the precipitancy with which it was launched, this concession was more unfriendly in substance. It was the first stage in the depredations on our commerce. Had it not been made, no Rebel ship could have been built in England: every step in her building would have been piracy. Nor could any munitions of war have been furnished: not a blockade-runner, laden with supplies, could have left the English shores, except under a kindred penalty. The direct consequence of this concession was to place the Rebels on an equality with ourselves in all British markets, whether of ships or munitions of war. As these were open to the National Government, so they were open to the Rebels. The asserted neutrality between the two began by this tremendous concession, when the Rebels, at one stroke, were transformed not only into belligerents, but into customers.

In attributing to that bad Proclamation this peculiar influence I follow the authority of the Law Lords of England, who, according to authentic report, announced that without it the fitting out of a ship in England to cruise against the United States would have been an act of piracy. This conclusion was clearly stated by Lord Chelmsford, ex-Chancellor, speaking for himself and others, when he said: “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.”[54] This conclusion is only according to analogies of law. It is criminal for British subjects to forge bombs or hand-grenades to be employed in the assassination of a foreign sovereign at peace with England, as when Bernard supplied from England the missiles used by Orsini against the life of the French Emperor,—all of which is illustrated by Lord Chief-Justice Campbell, in his charge to the jury on the trial of Bernard, and also by contemporaneous opinions of Lord Lyndhurst, Lord Brougham, Lord Truro, and at an earlier day by Lord Ellenborough in a case of libel on the First Consul. That excellent authority, Sir George Cornewall Lewis, gives a summary drawn from all these opinions, when he says: “The obligation incumbent upon a state of preventing her soil from being used as an arsenal, in which the means of attack against a foreign government may be collected and prepared for use, is wholly independent of the form and character of that government.”[55] As every government is constrained by this rule, so every government is entitled to its safeguards. There can be no reason why the life of our Republic should be less sacred than the life of an Emperor, or should enjoy less protection from British law. That England became an “arsenal” for the Rebels we know; but this could not have been, unless the Proclamation had prepared the way.

The only justification that I have heard for this extraordinary concession, which unleashed upon our country the Furies of War to commingle with the Furies of Rebellion at home, is, that President Lincoln undertook to proclaim a blockade of the Rebel ports. By the use of this word “blockade” the concession is vindicated. Had President Lincoln proclaimed a closing of the Rebel ports, there could have been no such concession. This is a mere technicality; lawyers might call it an apex juris; and yet on this sharp point England hangs her defence. It is sufficient that in a great case like the present, where the correlative duties of a friendly power are in question, an act fraught with such portentous evil cannot be vindicated on a technicality. In this debate there is no room for technicality on either side. We must look at the substance, and find a reason in nothing short of overruling necessity. War cannot be justified merely on a technicality; nor can the concession of ocean belligerency to rebels without a port or prize court. Such a concession, like war itself, must be at the peril of the nation making it.

The British assumption, besides being offensive from mere technicality, is inconsistent with the Proclamation of the President, taken as a whole, which, while appointing a blockade, is careful to reserve the rights of sovereignty, thus putting foreign powers on their guard against any premature concession. After declaring an existing insurrection in certain States, and the obstruction of the laws for the collection of the revenue, as the motive for action, the President invokes not only the Law of Nations, but “the laws of the United States,” and, in further assertion of the national sovereignty, declares Rebel cruisers to be pirates.[56] Clearly the Proclamation must be taken as a whole, and its different provisions so interpreted as to harmonize with each other. If they cannot stand together, then it is the “blockade” which must be modified by the national sovereignty, and not the national sovereignty by the blockade. Such should have been the interpretation of a friendly power, especially when it is considered that there are numerous precedents of what the great German authority, Heffter, calls “Pacific Blockade,” or blockade without concession of ocean belligerency,—as in the case of France, England, and Russia against Turkey, 1827; France against Mexico, 1837-39; France and Great Britain against the Argentine Republic, 1838-48; Russia against the Circassians, 1831-36, illustrated by the seizure of the Vixen, so famous in diplomatic history.[57] Cases like these led Heffter to lay down the rule, that “blockade” does not necessarily constitute a state of regular war,[58] as was assumed by the British Proclamation, even in the face of positive words by President Lincoln asserting the national sovereignty and appealing to “the laws of the United States.” The existence of such cases was like a notice to the British Government against the concession so rashly made. It was an all-sufficient warning, which this power disregarded.

So far as is now known, the whole case for England is made to stand on the use of the word “Blockade” by President Lincoln. Had he used any other word, the concession of belligerency would have been without justification, even such as is now imagined. It was this word which, with magical might, opened the gates to all those bountiful supplies by which hostile expeditions were equipped against the United States: it opened the gates of war. Most appalling is it to think that one little word, unconsciously used by a trusting President, could be caught up by a friendly power and made to play such a part.

I may add that there is one other word often invoked for apology. It is “Neutrality,” which, it is said, was proclaimed between two belligerents. Nothing could be fairer, always provided that the “neutrality” proclaimed did not begin with a concession to one party without which this party would be powerless. Between two established Nations, both independent, as between Russia and France, there may be neutrality; for the two are already equal in rights, and the proclamation would be precisely equal in its operation. But where one party is an established Nation, and the other is nothing but an odious combination of Rebels, the proclamation is most unequal in operation; for it begins by a solemn investiture of Rebels with all the rights of war, saying to them, as was once said to the youthful knight, “Rise; here is a sword; use it.” To call such an investiture a proclamation of neutrality is a misnomer. It was a proclamation of equality between the National Government on the one side and Rebels on the other, and no plausible word can obscure this distinctive character.

Then came the building of the pirate ships, one after another. While the Alabama was still in the ship-yard, it became apparent that she was intended for the Rebels. Our Minister at London and our Consul at Liverpool exerted themselves for her arrest and detention. They were put off from day to day. On the 24th July, 1862, Mr. Adams “completed his evidence,” accompanied by an opinion from the eminent barrister, Mr. Collier, afterward Solicitor-General, declaring the plain duty of the British Government to stop her.[59] Instead of acting promptly by the telegraph, five days were allowed to run out, when at last, too tardily, the necessary order was dispatched. Meanwhile the pirate ship escaped from the port of Liverpool by a stratagem, and her voyage began with music and frolic. Here, beyond all question, was negligence, or, according to the language of Lord Brougham on another occasion, “crass negligence,” making England justly responsible for all that ensued.

The pirate ship found refuge in an obscure harbor of Wales, known as Moelfra Bay, where she lay in British waters from half-past seven o’clock, P. M., July 29th, to about three o’clock, A. M., July 31st, being upward of thirty-one hours, and during this time she was supplied with men from the British steam-tug Hercules, which followed her from Liverpool. These thirty-one hours were allowed to elapse without any attempt to stop her. Here was another stage of “crass negligence.”

Thus was there negligence in allowing the building to proceed, negligence in allowing the escape from Liverpool, and negligence in allowing the final escape from the British coast.

Lord Russell, while trying to vindicate his Government, and repelling the complaints of the United States, more than once admitted that the escape of the Alabama was “a scandal and a reproach,”[60] which to my mind is very like a confession. Language could not be stronger. Surely such an act cannot be blameless. If damages are ever awarded to a friendly power for injuries received, it is difficult to see where they could be more strenuously claimed than in a case which the First Minister of the offending power did not hesitate to characterize so strongly.

The enlistment of the crew was not less obnoxious to censure than the building of the ship and her escape. It was a part of the transaction. The evidence is explicit. Not to occupy too much time, I refer only to the deposition of William Passmore, who swears that he was engaged with the express understanding that “the vessel was going out to the Government of the Confederate States of America,” “to fight for the Southern Government”; that he joined her at Laird’s yard at Birkenhead, near Liverpool, remaining there several weeks; that there were about thirty men on board, most of them old man-of-war’s men, among whom it was “well known that the vessel was going out as a privateer for the Confederate Government, to act against the United States, under a commission from Mr. Jefferson Davis.”[61] In a list of the crew, now before me, there is a large number said to be from the “Royal Naval Reserve.”[62] I might add to this testimony. The more the case is examined, the more clearly do we discern the character of the transaction.

The dedication of the ship to the Rebel service, from the very laying of the keel and the organization of her voyage, with England as her naval base, from which she drew munitions of war and men, made her departure as much a hostile expedition as if she had sailed forth from her Majesty’s dock-yard. At a moment of profound peace between the United States and England there was a hostile expedition against the United States. It was in no just sense a commercial transaction, but an act of war.

The case is not yet complete. The Alabama, whose building was in defiance of law, international and municipal, whose escape was “a scandal and a reproach,” and whose enlistment of her crew was a fit sequel to the rest, after being supplied with an armament and with a Rebel commander, entered upon her career of piracy. Mark now a new stage of complicity. Constantly the pirate ship was within reach of British cruisers, and from time to time within the shelter of British ports. For five days, unmolested, she enjoyed the pleasant hospitality of Kingston, in Jamaica, obtaining freely the coal and other supplies so necessary to her vocation. But no British cruiser, no British magistrate ever arrested the offending ship, whose voyage was a continuing “scandal and reproach” to the British Government.

The excuse for this strange license is a curious technicality,—as if a technicality could avail in this case at any stage. Borrowing a phrase from that master of admiralty jurisprudence, Sir William Scott, it is said that the ship “deposited” her original sin at the conclusion of her voyage, so that afterward she was blameless. But the Alabama never concluded her voyage until she sank under the guns of the Kearsarge, because she never had a port of her own. She was no better than the Flying Dutchman, and so long as she sailed was liable for that original sin, which had impregnated every plank with an indelible dye. No British cruiser could allow her to proceed, no British port could give her shelter, without renewing the complicity of England.

The Alabama case begins with a fatal concession, by which the Rebels were enabled to build ships in England, and then to sail them, without being liable as pirates; it next shows itself in the building of the ship, in the armament, and in the escape, with so much of negligence on the part of the British Government as to constitute sufferance, if not connivance; and then, again, the case reappears in the welcome and hospitality accorded by British cruisers and by the magistrates of British ports to the pirate ship, when her evasion from British jurisdiction was well known. Thus at three different stages the British Government is compromised: first, in the concession of ocean belligerency, on which all depended; secondly, in the negligence which allowed the evasion of the ship, in order to enter upon the hostile expedition for which she was built, manned, armed, and equipped; and, thirdly, in the open complicity which, after this evasion, gave her welcome, hospitality, and supplies in British ports. Thus her depredations and burnings, making the ocean blaze, all proceeded from England, which by three different acts lighted the torch. To England must be traced, also, all the wide-spread consequences which ensued.

I take the case of the Alabama because it is the best known, and because the building, equipment, and escape of this ship were under circumstances most obnoxious to judgment; but it will not be forgotten that there were consort ships, built under the shelter of that fatal Proclamation, issued in such an eclipse of just principles, and, like the ships it unloosed, “rigged with curses dark.” One after another, ships were built; one after another, they escaped on their errand; and, one after another, they enjoyed the immunities of British ports. Audacity reached its height when iron-clad rams were built, and the perversity of the British Government became still more conspicuous by its long refusal to arrest these destructive engines of war, destined to be employed against the United States. This protracted hesitation, where the consequences were so menacing, is a part of the case.

It is plain that the ships which were built under the safeguard of this ill-omened Proclamation, which stole forth from the British shores and afterward enjoyed the immunities of British ports, were not only British in origin, but British in equipment, British in armament, and British in crews. They were British in every respect, except in their commanders, who were Rebel; and one of these, as his ship was sinking, owed his safety to a British yacht, symbolizing the omnipresent support of England. British sympathies were active in their behalf. The cheers of a British passenger-ship crossing the path of the Alabama encouraged the work of piracy; and the cheers of the House of Commons encouraged the builder of the Alabama, while he defended what he had done, and exclaimed, in taunt to him who is now an illustrious member of the British Cabinet, John Bright, that he “would rather be handed down to posterity as the builder of a dozen Alabamas” than be the author of the speeches of that gentleman “crying up” the institutions of the United States, which the builder of the Alabama, rising with his theme, denounced as “of no value whatever,” and as “reducing the very name of Liberty to an utter absurdity,”[63] while the cheers of the House of Commons echoed back his words. Thus from beginning to end, from the fatal Proclamation to the rejoicing of the accidental ship and the rejoicing of the House of Commons, was this hostile expedition protected and encouraged by England. The same spirit which dictated the swift concession of belligerency, with all its deadly incidents, ruled the hour, entering into and possessing every pirate ship.

There are two circumstances by which the whole case is aggravated. One is found in the date of the Proclamation which lifted the Rebels to an equality with the National Government, opening to them everything that was open to us, whether ship-yards, foundries, or manufactories, and giving to them a flag on the ocean coëqual with the flag of the Union. This extraordinary manifesto was signed on the very day of the arrival of our Minister in England,—so that, when, after an ocean voyage, he reached the British Government, to which he was accredited, he found this great and terrible indignity to his country already perpetrated, and the floodgates opened to infinite woes. The Minister had been announced; he was daily expected; the British Government knew of his coming;—but in hottest haste they did this thing.

The other aggravation is found in its flagrant, unnatural departure from that Antislavery rule which, by manifold declarations, legislative, political, and diplomatic, was the avowed creed of England. Often was this rule proclaimed, but, if we except the great Act of Emancipation, never more pointedly than in the famous circular of Lord Palmerston, while Minister of Foreign Affairs, announcing to all nations that England was pledged to the Universal Abolition of Slavery.[64] And now, when Slaveholders, in the very madness of barbarism, broke away from the National Government and attempted to found a new empire with Slavery as its declared corner-stone, Antislavery England, without a day’s delay, without even waiting the arrival of our Minister at the seat of Government, although known to be on his way, made haste to decree that this shameful and impossible pretension should enjoy equal rights with the National Government in her ship-yards, foundries, and manufactories, and equal rights on the ocean. Such was the decree. Rebel Slaveholders, occupied in a hideous attempt, were taken by the hand, and thus, with the official protection and the God-speed of Antislavery England, commenced their accursed work.

I close this part of the argument with the testimony of Mr. Bright, who, in a speech at Rochdale, among his neighbors, February 3, 1863, thus exhibits the criminal complicity of England:—

In further illustration, and in support of Mr. Bright’s allegation, I refer again to the multitudinous blockade-runners from England. Without the manifesto of belligerency they could not have sailed. All this stealthy fleet, charged with hostility to the United States, was a part of the great offence. The blockade-runners were kindred to the pirate ships. They were of the same bad family, having their origin and home in England. From the beginning they went forth with their cargoes of death;—for the supplies which they furnished contributed to the work of death. When, after a long and painful siege, our conquering troops entered Vicksburg, they found Armstrong guns from England in position;[66] and so on every field where our patriot fellow-citizens breathed a last breath were English arms and munitions of war, all testifying against England. The dead spoke, also,—and the wounded still speak.

REPARATION FROM ENGLAND.

At last the Rebellion succumbed. British ships and British supplies had done their work, but they failed. And now the day of reckoning has come,—but with little apparent sense of what is due on the part of England. Without one soothing word for a friendly power deeply aggrieved, without a single regret for what Mr. Cobden, in the House of Commons, called “the cruel losses”[67] inflicted upon us, or for what Mr. Bright called “aid and comfort to the foulest of all crimes,”[68] or for what a generous voice from Oxford University denounced as a “flagrant and maddening wrong,”[69] England simply proposes to submit the question of liability for individual losses to an anomalous tribunal where chance plays its part. This is all. Nothing is admitted, even on this question; no rule for the future is established; while nothing is said of the indignity to the nation, nor of the damages to the nation. On an earlier occasion it was otherwise.

There is an unhappy incident in our relations with Great Britain, which attests how in other days individual losses were only a minor element in reparation for a wrong received by the nation. You all know from history how in time of profound peace, and only a few miles outside the Virginia Capes, the British frigate Leopard fired into the national frigate Chesapeake, pouring broadside upon broadside, killing three persons and wounding eighteen, some severely, and then, boarding her, carried off four others as British subjects. This was in the summer of 1807. The brilliant Mr. Canning, British Minister of Foreign Affairs, promptly volunteered overtures for an accommodation, by declaring his Majesty’s readiness to take the whole of the circumstances of the case into consideration, and “to make reparation for any alleged injury to the sovereignty of the United States, whenever it should be clearly shown that such injury has been actually sustained and that such reparation is really due.”[70] Here was a good beginning. There was to be reparation for an injury to the national sovereignty. After years of painful negotiation, the British Minister at Washington, under date of November 1, 1811, offered to the United States three propositions: first, the disavowal of the unauthorized act; secondly, the immediate restoration, so far as circumstances would permit, of the men forcibly taken from the Chesapeake; and, thirdly, a suitable pecuniary provision for the sufferers in consequence of the attack on the Chesapeake; concluding with these words:—

I adduce this historic instance to illustrate partly the different forms of reparation. Here, of course, was reparation to individuals; but there was also reparation to the nation, whose sovereignty had been outraged.

There is another instance, which is not without authority. In 1837 an armed force from Upper Canada crossed the river just above the Falls of Niagara, and burned an American vessel, the Caroline, while moored to the shores of the United States. Mr. Webster, in his negotiation with Lord Ashburton, characterized this act as “of itself a wrong, and an offence to the sovereignty and the dignity of the United States, … for which, to this day, no atonement, or even apology, has been made by her Majesty’s Government,”[72]—all these words being strictly applicable to the present case. Lord Ashburton, in reply, after recapitulating some mitigating circumstances, and expressing a regret “that some explanation and apology for this occurrence was not immediately made,” proceeds to say:—

Here again was reparation for a wrong done to the nation.

Looking at what is due to us on the present occasion, we are brought again to the conclusion that the satisfaction of individuals whose ships have been burnt or sunk is only a small part of what we may justly expect. As in the earlier cases where the national sovereignty was insulted, there should be an acknowledgment of wrong, or at least of liability, leaving to the commissioners the assessment of damages only. The blow inflicted by that fatal Proclamation which insulted our national sovereignty and struck at our unity as a nation, followed by broadside upon broadside, driving our commerce from the ocean, was kindred in character to those earlier blows; and when we consider that it was in aid of Slavery, it was a blow at Civilization itself. Besides degrading us and ruining our commerce, its direct and constant influence was to encourage the Rebellion, and to prolong the war waged by Slaveholders at such cost of treasure and blood. It was a terrible mistake, which I cannot doubt that good Englishmen must regret. And now, in the interest of peace, it is the duty of both sides to find a remedy, complete, just, and conciliatory, so that the deep sense of wrong and the detriment to the Republic may be forgotten in that proper satisfaction which a nation loving justice cannot hesitate to offer.

THE EXTENT OF OUR LOSSES.

Individual losses may be estimated with reasonable accuracy. Ships burnt or sunk with their cargoes may be counted, and their value determined; but this leaves without recognition the vaster damage to commerce driven from the ocean, and that other damage, immense and infinite, caused by the prolongation of the war, all of which may be called national in contradistinction to individual.

Our national losses have been frankly conceded by eminent Englishmen. I have already quoted Mr. Cobden, who did not hesitate to call them “cruel losses.” During the same debate in which he let drop this testimony, he used other words, which show how justly he comprehended the case. “You have been,” said he, “carrying on hostilities from these shores against the people of the United States, and have been inflicting an amount of damage on that country greater than would be produced by many ordinary wars. It is estimated that the loss sustained by the capture and burning of American vessels has been about $15,000,000, or nearly £3,000,000 sterling. But that is a small part of the injury which has been inflicted on the American marine. We have rendered the rest of her vast mercantile property for the present valueless.”[74] Thus, by the testimony of Mr. Cobden, were those individual losses which are alone recognized by the pending treaty only “a small part of the injury inflicted.” After confessing his fears with regard to “the heaping up of a gigantic material grievance” such as was then accumulating, he adds, in memorable words:—