This is to tell the story of what is known, in the history of the Civil War, as the Trent affair. And it is worth saying in advance that few, if any, events that have occurred on the high seas are of more interest to the American patriot than this. For not only did it involve the capture and subsequent release of two very important enemies of the American government in time of war; it settled forever in our favor the troublesome question that drove the American people into the War of 1812. There was, indeed, what may rightly be called an official declaration, on the part of the Prime Minister of Great Britain, that the United States was entirely justified in that war.

On the 12th of October, 1861, Mr. James Mason, of Virginia, and Mr. John Slidell, of Louisiana, with two other gentlemen, acting as their secretaries, sailed from Charleston in the blockade-runner Theodora, and, “unimpeded by the blockading ships,” arrived at Cardenas, Cuba, whence they proceeded to Havana. Mr. Mason had, in former years, been chairman of the Senate Committee on Foreign Affairs and American Minister in Paris. Mr. Slidell had represented the United States at the capital of Mexico. These two gentlemen had been chosen by the Confederates to go to Europe as special representatives—Mr. Mason to England and Mr. Slidell to Paris—to secure, if possible, the recognition of the Confederate States as a nation. It is important to note that these special envoys were sent because three others previously sent had failed. “Lord Russell had received them (the three) on the footing of private gentlemen and listened to what they had to say, but had avoided correspondence, and remained immovable in his refusal to enter into any official communication. At the French court they had been equally unsuccessful,” and the Confederates hoped that Messrs. Mason and Slidell would do better.

On the day that these Confederate envoys arrived in Havana the United States cruiser San Jacinto, Capt. Charles Wilkes, was at Cienfuegos, on the south side of Cuba, looking for the Confederate cruiser Sumter—Wilkes, by the way, being the officer who conducted the celebrated Wilkes expedition to the southern seas, of which mention is made elsewhere.

While at Cienfuegos, Wilkes heard of the arrival of the Theodora on the north coast, and made haste ineffectually to reach Havana to intercept her. But while he failed to catch the Theodora he learned at Havana that the Confederate envoys were to sail in the Royal mail line steamer Trent for the island of St. Thomas, where, in the regular course of the line’s business, they would be transferred to a steamer bound to England. Having failed to learn when the Trent would sail—failed because of “the notorious action of her British Majesty’s subjects in doing everything to aid and abet the escape of these four persons”—Wilkes went to “where the old Bahama Channel contracts to the width of fifteen miles, some 240 miles from Havana, and in sight of the Paredon del Grande lighthouse.” The Trent must pass through that neck of water, and “at 11.40 on the 8th her smoke was seen.” “We were all prepared for her, beat to quarters, and orders were given to Lieut. D. M. Fairfax to have two boats manned and armed to board her and make Messrs. Slidell, Mason, Eustis, and McFarland prisoners, and send them on board.” Eustis and McFarland were the secretaries. “The steamer approached and hoisted English colors, our ensign was hoisted, and a shot was fired across her bow; she maintained her speed and showed no disposition to heave to; then a shell was fired across her bow, which brought her to. I hailed that I intended to send a boat on board, and Lieutenant Fairfax, with the second cutter of this ship, was despatched.” The quotations are from official reports.

On arriving beside the Trent, Fairfax went on board alone, “leaving two officers in the boat with orders to wait until it became necessary to show some force.” He met the captain on the quarter-deck and asked “to see the passenger list,” but “he declined letting me see it.” Fairfax then said he had learned that the Confederate envoys were on board, and should satisfy himself “whether they were on board before allowing the steamer to proceed.”

“Mr. Slidell, evidently hearing his name mentioned, came up to me and asked if I wanted to see him. Mr. Mason soon joined us, and then Mr. Eustis and Mr. McFarland, when I made known the object of my visit. The captain of the Trent opposed anything like the search of his vessel, nor would he consent to show papers or passenger list.” This is from the report of Lieutenant Fairfax, and it adds that “there was considerable noise among the passengers just about this time.” The fact is the passengers were, to a man, in ardent sympathy with the Confederates. “The passengers and ship’s officers were making all kinds of disagreeable and contemptuous noises and remarks.” “Did you ever hear of such an outrage?” and “Did you ever hear of such a piratical act?” were two of the expressions that were heard by the officers waiting in the boat. “Mr. Fairfax appeared to be having an altercation with some one,” and at last one waiting officer “heard some one call out, ‘Shoot him!’”

At this some armed marines were sent on board, and when they “advanced the passengers fell back.” The most insolent of all on board was a retired commander of the British navy, who was in charge of the mails. According to Lieut. James A. Greer, “the mail agent, (a man in the uniform of a commander in the royal navy, I think,) was very indignant and talkative, and tried several times to get me into discussion of the matter. I told him I was not there for that purpose. He was very bitter; he told me that the English squadron would raise the blockade in twenty days after his report of this outrage (I think he said outrage) got home; that the northerners might as well give up now,” etc., etc. The Confederate envoys, in their letter to Captain Wilkes, say that “it must be added here, omitted in the course of the narration, that before the party left the upper deck an officer of the Trent, named Williams, in the naval uniform of Great Britain, and known to the passengers as having charge of the mails and accompanying them to England, said to the lieutenant that, as the only person present directly representing his government, he felt called upon, in language as strong and as emphatic as he could express, to denounce the whole proceeding as a piratical act.”

Further than that, “nearly all the officers of the vessel showed an undisguised hatred for the northern people, and a sympathy for the Confederates. I will do the captain of the vessel the justice to say that he acted differently from the rest, being, when I saw him, very reserved and dignified. The officers and men of our party took no apparent notice of the remarks that were made, and acted with the greatest forbearance.”

However, in spite of the bluster and the determination of the envoys to go only when compelled to do so by force, the four were taken on board the American warship. The force used was not violence, of course. “Three officers laid their hands on an envoy, after which the envoy walked down a ladder to the boat.” It is conceded on all hands that Lieutenant Fairfax and his men acted in a manner entirely becoming to gentlemen of the navy.

Having taken the Confederate envoys, Captain Wilkes permitted the Trent to proceed on her voyage. He says:

“It was my determination to have taken possession of the Trent, and sent her to Key West as a prize, for resisting the search and carrying these passengers, whose character and objects were well known to the captain; but the reduced number of my officers and crew, and the large number of passengers on board, bound to Europe, who would be put to great inconvenience, decided me to allow them to proceed.”

It is worth noting, as illustrating the character of Wilkes and his officers, that they were absolutely certain that if they took the ship to Key West she would be sold as a good prize for a sum that would have given many thousand dollars to the San Jacinto’s crew. But for the sake of the convenience of the passengers, they allowed her to go on.

After the Trent started on her way to St. Thomas, the San Jacinto headed for Boston. “Why he did not go into New York or Hampton Roads, where he could have communicated with the Government, is unexplained, but the information of the capture was kept from the Department four days longer than it should have been.”

But when at last he did reach port, and the news of the capture was given to the reporters, the whole North went wild with joy, and the rest of the civilized world, and especially Great Britain, was stirred as rarely, if ever before, by the capture of an envoy. Even Secretary of the Navy Welles lost his head and officially wrote to Wilkes: “Your conduct in seizing these public enemies was marked by intelligence, ability, decision, and firmness, and has the emphatic approval of this department.” As for the people of Boston, it may be said that not in all the years since the War of 1812 had they made such demonstrations over a naval officer. Even Hull, with the Guerrière crew on board the Constitution, did not receive so much banqueting; and Congress passed enthusiastically a resolution requesting the President to give Wilkes a gold medal.

To the writer hereof it seems that the story of all this excitement is worth careful consideration, not so much because it was incited by the capture of two enemies of the flag, but because it was an expression of feeling against the British. For the capture of Mason and Slidell could not harm the Confederates greatly. There were other statesmen in the South to take their place. But they had been taken from a British ship, and the people at the North then believed that the British government, while publicly professing friendship for their cause, was secretly doing everything possible to aid the South. The enthusiasm over Wilkes appears to have been in good part a protest against what was then called British hypocrisy and enmity for the North. So great was this enthusiasm, that for a man to openly express the opinion that a grave mistake had been made was to incur the most rabid denunciations—to be called a “copperhead” and a “traitor” and a “toady.”

Meantime the British were, as said, but little less excited than the Americans, though for quite a different reason. A British packet ship had been assaulted on the high seas while making her usual voyage between neutral ports, and the people—especially the seafaring people—wanted to know what their government was going to do about it. As a matter of fact, they did not have to wait long to learn.

“Richard Williams, Commander R.N., and Admiralty agent in charge of mails” on the Trent, made his report under date of November 9th, and this in due time reached Lord Russell, the British Prime Minister. A Cabinet meeting was called to consider the matter, and on November 30, 1861, Russell sent a despatch to Lord Lyons, the British Minister at Washington, of which the following are the important paragraphs:

“It thus appears that certain individuals have been forcibly taken from on board a British vessel, the ship of a neutral Power, while such vessel was pursuing a lawful and innocent voyage, an act of violence which was an affront to the British flag, and a violation of international law.

“Her Majesty’s Government, bearing in mind the friendly relations which have long subsisted between Great Britain and the United States, are willing to believe that the United States’ naval officer who committed this aggression was not acting in compliance with any authority from his Government, or that, if he conceived himself to be so authorized, he greatly misunderstood the instructions which he had received.

“For the Government of the United States must be fully aware that the British Government could not allow such an affront to the national honour to pass without full reparation, and Her Majesty’s Government are unwilling to believe that it could be the deliberate intention of the Government of the United States unnecessarily to force into discussion between the two Governments a question of so grave a character, and with regard to which the whole British nation would be sure to entertain such unanimity of feeling.”

In another letter of the same date Lord Russell added the following, setting a time limit with instructions in case the British demand was not allowed:

“In my previous despatch of this date I have instructed you, by command of Her Majesty, to make certain demands of the Government of the United States.

“Should Mr. Seward ask for delay in order that this grave and painful matter should be deliberately considered, you will consent to a delay not exceeding seven days. If, at the end of that time, no answer is given, or if any other answer is given except that of a compliance with the demands of Her Majesty’s Government, your Lordship is instructed to leave Washington with all the members of your Legation, bringing with you the archives of the Legation, and to repair immediately to London.”

These were the public official orders to Lord Lyons; but in order to set forth accurately the condition of affairs, it is necessary to quote from a letter of private instructions in which, as it now appears, Lord Russell, while determined to enforce the British demand for reparation, was anxious “to mitigate the effect of their peremptory demand.” He said:

“The despatches which were agreed to at the Cabinet yesterday, and which I have signed this morning, impose upon you a disagreeable task. My wish would be that at your first interview with Mr. Seward you should not take my despatch with you, but should prepare him for it, and ask him to settle with the President and the Cabinet what course they would propose.

“The next time you should bring my despatch and read it to him fully.

“If he asks what will be the consequence of his refusing compliance, I think you should say that you wish to leave him and the President quite free to take their own course, and that you desire to abstain from anything like menace.”

Although, as said, the patriotic Americans, as a whole, were greatly excited and incensed, there were many of them who did not share in these feelings, and among these were Secretary of State Seward. To set forth the reasons for this opposition to the opinions of their countrymen more forcibly, the following incident of the history of the Revolutionary War shall be told:

It appears that when that war was at its height “the colonial government despatched as ambassador to Holland, then a neutral power, Henry Laurens, a former President in the Congress of the country, vested with power to secure from that Government a recognition of the United Colonies as an independent nation—to conclude a treaty, and to negotiate a loan. In 1780 he left Charleston, on board the brigantine Adriana, bound to Martinique. From thence he took passage in a Dutch packet, the Mercury, for Holland, and thus was on board a neutral vessel, sailing between neutral ports.

“When three days out from Martinique, the Mercury was overhauled by the British frigate Vestal, Mr. Laurens, with his secretary, was forcibly removed from on board the Mercury; his papers were seized; they were taken in the Vestal to St. Johns, Newfoundland, and thence, by an order of the British admiralty, he, with his secretary, was taken to England, and he was committed, as a prisoner, to the Tower of London, on a charge of high treason. The British reverse at Yorktown soon changed the character of his confinement to that of a prisoner of war, and he was, not long thereafter, released, in exchange for Lieutenant-general Lord Cornwallis.”

The quotation is from Upton’s “Maritime Warfare and Prize.” No one familiar with this work will accuse Mr. Upton of lack of patriotism. The fact is that the case of Laurens, from a legal point of view, was precisely the case of Mason and Slidell. If the British were wrong in taking the American from a Dutch ship and treating him as a criminal in 1780, the Americans were wrong in taking the Confederate envoys from the British ship in 1861 and treating them as criminals.

But that is by no means the end of the story of the Trent affair. The demand of Great Britain was officially communicated to Secretary of State Seward on December 19th. On December 26th Mr. Seward delivered to Lord Lyons a reply reviewing the entire case. The important points of this reply are as follows:

The American government did not authorize the act of Captain Wilkes and knew nothing about it until Captain Wilkes arrived and reported it. Captain Wilkes believed that what he had done was “a simple legal and customary belligerent proceeding to arrest and capture a neutral vessel engaged in carrying contraband of war for the use and benefit of the insurgents.” The “four persons taken from the Trent by Captain Wilkes, and their despatches, were contraband of war.” If the envoys were contraband, Captain Wilkes had a right, under the law of nations, to capture the Trent, but the contraband “has a right to a fair trial of the accusation against him.” “The neutral state that has taken him under its flag is bound to protect him, if he is not contraband, and is therefore entitled to be satisfied upon that important question.” Both the accused and the neutral state have a right to demand “a tribunal and a trial.” In the Trent case there was neither tribunal nor trial. Captain Wilkes constituted himself captor, judge, and executioner. A very great wrong had been done. For this wrong “the British Government has a right to expect the same reparation that we, as an independent State, should expect from Great Britain or any other friendly nation in a similar case.” “The four persons in question are now held in military custody at Fort Warren in the State of Massachusetts. They will be cheerfully liberated.”

The comment of Commodore Joseph Smith on Seward’s letter sums it up admirably. In a letter to Flag Officer Foote he says, “It is ingenious, gassy, too long, but able.”

It is to be observed that the letter of Mr. Seward did not contain the word regret nor any form of apology. It stated the case and argued it, and admitted that an error—“simply an inadvertency,” on the part of a naval officer—had been made, and agreed to deliver up the prisoners. Whether the Secretary should have expressed regret when he admitted the wrong, the reader can judge for himself. What Lord Russell thought about this point is not told in the documents, but what he said was that “Her Majesty’s Government have arrived at the conclusion that they (the matters in Mr. Seward’s letter) constitute the reparation which Her Majesty and the British nation had a right to expect.”

Then, in another letter, he controverted Mr. Seward’s statements that the Confederate envoys made the Trent a good prize that might have been lawfully condemned. Of course no settlement of this question was reached, but whether Lord Russell or Mr. Seward was right, may be, perhaps, decided by the reader. At this writing there is trouble between Spain and the people of Cuba. If a Cuban agent escaped from Cuba to the United States and sailed from New York in an American liner for England, would the government of the United States permit a Spanish warship to carry the Yankee liner to Spain and there have her condemned as a prize? As this question must be answered in the negative, it is impossible to resist saying that in the Trent case the British government, instead of showing a spirit hostile toward the American government, was, in spite of the time limit, forbearing.

No direct reference to the British threat of war has been made so far, nor has the policy of adding to one’s enemies, when one is already full of trouble, been mentioned. It was a question of right and wrong. If, on sober second thought, the whole American people had concluded that they were right, or if it had been manifest that it was necessary for the life of the nation to keep those Confederates, no threat of war and no attack from any nation would have taken them from Fort Warren. It is an idle speculation; but most writers on this subject are sure that if Mason and Slidell had not been liberated the British would have declared war against us and so have set up the Confederate States as an independent government. But if the writer hereof may be allowed to express an opinion, he must say that, in spite of the seven days’ limit, England was not quite ready to declare war. And it is by no means certain that if she had done so, the combination would have resulted as predicted. For the people of the United States were not in their last ditch, nor were they friendless in the world.

If one other point in this controversy be considered, the patriotic American can look upon the Trent case with unmixed pleasure. From 1783 until 1861—for seventy-eight weary years the American government had vainly striven with all the arts of diplomacy, and even with the argument of open war, to get from Great Britain a disavowal of her assumed right to search a neutral ship in time of war and take from it any persons whom one of her naval officers might decide to be British subjects—a renunciation of what the Prince Regent (afterward George IV) proclaimed at the palace of Westminster, in 1813, as the “undoubted and hitherto undisputed right of searching merchant vessels in time of war, and the impressment of British seamen when found therein.”

It was, indeed, not a very lively strife in the later years of this period, for Great Britain had abstained from exercising her “undoubted and hitherto undisputed right” as against American ships. But on November 8, 1861, an American captain, being not well informed in the causes of America’s fights for life and liberty, undertook the very act that, when done by Great Britain, led to the War of 1812. He stopped a neutral ship on the high seas and took from her men whom he declared to be American citizens, and without any form of trial haled them away to a condition that was in law, if not in fact, exactly the condition of the impressed American seamen before the War of 1812. Great Britain had often taken advantage of such an act; she had in more than 6,000 cases, of which we have official knowledge, benefited by such doings on the part of her naval officers. But she had never suffered from such an aggression as that until November 8, 1861. There is no recorded act nor official utterance of the government of Great Britain during the first seventy-eight years of the existence of the United States that can be construed as a renunciation of the right of taking British subjects from neutral ships in time of war; but when an American naval captain took an American subject from a British ship the British Prime Minister, with swift indignation, declared it “an act of violence which was an affront to the British flag and a violation of international law.” And that was not all. “The British Government could not allow such an affront to the national honour to pass without full reparation.” Indeed, the affront was so great that the British Minister was to consent, for the purpose of consideration and negotiation, “to a delay not exceeding seven days.”

The outrages perpetrated on American seamen in the old days have never been avenged; but because the British were at last willing to acknowledge in the most emphatic of official documents that the United States waged a just war in 1812, they may be forgiven.