After the lapse of a third of a century the course of the British government in the affair of the Trent may be considered calmly and without passion or prejudice. In the absence of such influences, it should be easy to draw correct conclusions concerning the motives which controlled the action of the English ministry on that occasion. The facts which have been presented in former chapters speak for themselves. Extended comment upon them is unnecessary.

In view of all the circumstances of the case there can be but one conclusion possible, and that is one which is unfavorable to England. The action taken by her government in that instance was unwarranted by the nature of the case; it was not consistent with either the pretended position of England as a leader of civilization or with the past record of that country as regards her treatment of neutrals; and last but not least, her course was adopted and pursued with the intention of deliberately menacing the United States of America at a time when they were already engaged in a deadly struggle, and least able to resent foreign insults.

It is true that no government can hope to maintain the respect of the civilized world, if it tamely submits to wanton outrage perpetrated against its flag. When premeditated insult is offered, the national honor should be vindicated, although it be necessary to do so by an appeal to arms, and the fortunes of even a doubtful war. These things have been urged in justification of the conduct of the British government in the affair of the Trent.

It is not true that the act of Captain Wilkes was an “outrage on the British flag,” as has been so often affirmed by apologists for the course pursued by England on that occasion. The seizure of the southern commissioners was not an act which can be said to possess any of the essential qualities of outrage. It was done, as has already been stated in a preceding chapter, without any authority whatever from the Federal government. Although the proceeding was irregular, and not sanctioned by the principles of international law, there existed on the part of Captain Wilkes not the slightest intention to offer an affront to the British flag. Filled with patriotic zeal to serve his own country he was guilty of having stopped a British mail packet on the high seas and taken from her four American citizens, insurgents, proceeding to Europe in the hope of securing assistance there to accomplish the ruin of their country. No harm was done or offered to the person or property of any British subject. It did not lie within the power of Captain Wilkes to insult the British nation unless his act had been previously ordered by his government or afterward sanctioned by it.

It often happens in war, and not infrequently in peace, that an act not permitted by the law of nations will be done toward a neutral by some over-zealous commander of a single cruiser. In such a case, the government of the injured party, after having been officially informed of the matter, usually brings it to the notice of the offender’s government and seeks redress through diplomatic means upon the assumption that the act complained of was done without authority. This is the recognized and proper method of adjusting such cases among friendly civilized nations. Such cases are constantly being settled in this friendly and pacific manner without even a hint or a thought of a resort to arms by either party. Quite a different course was pursued in England on this occasion. “Within a week the demand for reparation was on its way to America; within a fortnight, several of the finest regiments in the Queen’s army were on their way to Canada; immense stores of war were embarked; the matériel of a considerable army was in readiness; a fleet of incomparable power was in commission which would have been tripled at the first moment of hostilities; the sea-faring population joined the naval reserve with alacrity; and throughout the nation one spirit prevails of absolute confidence in its rulers, and absolute determination to maintain its rights.”⁠[1]

This would have been justifiable in case of a deliberate and premeditated insult for which the offending government was undoubtedly responsible. In the case under consideration there was nothing in question except the isolated act of the commander of a single detached cruiser. Upon the mere hearing of this one such act, the British government made an instant and peremptory demand for reparation which was dictated by themselves and backed by more active preparations for war than had been made in that country since the Napoleonic era.⁠[2] No one knew whether the act had been committed in pursuance of instructions from the Federal government or not. There was to be no discussion of the case; no consideration of what the American government might have to say; no arbitration or diplomatic means of obtaining redress in accordance with the practice of friendly nations. The United States were given the alternative of acceding to the peremptory demand of Great Britain or of engaging in a war with that country.

The first communication to the Washington government was an ultimatum—a last and only condition, a beginning with the end. The natural beginning in such a case would have been to ask for an explanation of intentions, and to demand reparation of the wrong done, without at the same time preparing for war. In discussing the English ultimatum Count De Gasparin says: “Public opinion, moreover, was aroused in Europe with unforeseen rapidity; the precipitation of the measure adopted at London was judged severely; the clause concerning apology was also abandoned in fact. But it is no less incredible that it figured in the original programme. Little children are made to ask pardon, the humiliation of apology is inflicted on countries without regular government, on Turks and savages; between nations which respect each other mutually, it is always deemed sufficient satisfaction to repair the wrong and deny the hostile intention.”⁠[3]

The Morning Post and other London newspapers defended the ultimatum on the ground that the act of Captain Wilkes was the last of a series of hostile acts designed to bring about a war. It was said that the United States were seeking a pretext for declaring war against England, and that Mr. Seward desired to heal the domestic difficulty by proposing to reconcile all differences with the South and make a common assault on Canada. They said that if war must come it is best to choose one’s own time instead of awaiting the inevitable.

These statements are too silly to deserve serious consideration. In refuting these absurdities, Count De Gasparin says:⁠[4] “I have followed the progress of events in America as attentively as any one, I have read the American newspapers, I have studied documents, among others the famous circular of Mr. Seward; I have seen there more than one sign of discontent with the unsympathizing attitude of England; I have also seen there the symptoms of the somewhat natural fear which the intervention of Europe in Mexico excites in men attached to the Monroe doctrine; but as to these incredible plans (annexing Canada, etc.), I have never discovered the slightest trace of them.” It was only Englishmen who could discover such plans.

An ultimatum to the Federal government—one prepared and forwarded without seeking explanations—was the panacea for English wounded honor in this instance. Only five years before, in the Paris congress, an Englishman, Lord Clarendon, had proposed a rule of arbitration that he said would be a “barrier to those conflicts which not infrequently break out only because of the impossibility of offering explanations or of coming to an understanding.”

This was a question introduced by the English government. It was discussed with earnestness, and a final vote postponed until the Russian representative could obtain the views of his government by telegraph. The unanimous declaration assented to by all the powers, including the United States, was as follows: “The plenipotentiaries do not hesitate to express the wish, in the name of their governments, that states, between which serious dissensions may arise, shall have recourse to the good offices of a friendly power, as far as circumstances permit, before appealing to arms.”

If there has ever been a case where this rule, proposed and adopted at the suggestion of England, could be applied advantageously, it was certainly in the instance under consideration. A war was about to break out through “the impossibility of offering explanations, or of coming to an understanding.” This proposition, so earnestly made and so cheerfully assented to only five years before, was utterly disregarded at the first opportunity to put it into practice. This was an inconsistency, not creditable to English character.

There was absolutely nothing in the affair which justified a menace of war, and, if the British government ever believed that such was the case, it was soon undeceived. It has already been stated in a previous chapter that on November 30, Mr. Seward took the precaution to write to Mr. Adams at London, and inform him that the act of Captain Wilkes was entirely upon his own responsibility, and without instructions from the government; that the United States was uncommitted and ready to meet Great Britain half way in any sort of a friendly disposition of the matter.

On December 19 Mr. Adams called upon Lord Russell at the foreign office, and read the dispatch to him. This was an absolute assurance that any reasonable terms would be accepted, and that all warlike demonstrations were needless. This pacific dispatch from Mr. Seward, however, did not have the slightest effect upon the British government. All knowledge of the dispatch or even of the interview was carefully concealed from the British public lest this assurance—given in advance—of a willingness to settle the matter in a peaceable manner, would destroy the warlike enthusiasm which was then so nearly universal among the British people. The preparations for war continued with unabated vigor. The British government did not care to take into consideration anything just then that would interfere with the parade of its military power, which was being made in order to overawe the United States and secure the concession of the English demands.

Mr. Adams regarded the contents of the dispatch as confidential and so took care that no one outside the legation should know of its existence or of the interview with Lord Russell. Finally certain London newspapers published rumors of the whole matter. On December 21 the Morning Post, the organ of the ministry, hastened to publish, in large type, the official contradiction of the news, and stated that no dispatch had been received which had the slightest bearing on the Trent case. Only a few days later the Observer published a summary of all the events relating to the case, at the close of which was a fairly correct account of the substance of Mr. Seward’s dispatch of November 30. “After the appearance of that,” says Mr. Adams, “I had no hesitation in disclosing to persons with whom I conversed my knowledge of its correctness. It was then with no little surprise that they perceived last week, when intelligence was received from America of the existence of such a paper, a formal denial in the Post that any such paper had ever been communicated to the British government. No longer able to deny the existence of it, the next step was to affirm that I must have suppressed it. And not satisfied with that, the same press went on to supply a motive for doing so, in the fact that certain American parties had about the same time appeared in the market buying up stock, which was the cause of the rise in the funds already alluded to. Of course the assumption was that I was engaged in a heavy stock jobbing operation for my own benefit and that of my friends.”⁠[5]

The Post evidently wanted to have the British public believe a falsehood as long as possible. Finally Lord Russell’s account of the matter, as given in a note to Lord Lyons, was published and the case was clear to all. But the Post remained silent. It made no retraction of its statements; no justification for making them; neither did it disclaim the authority upon which they were made.

There seemed to be an eagerness on the part of the British government to seize on the occasion and to grasp the pretext for making war. It was loth to give up this chance which had been so hastily accepted. Peace was not wanted, but war. A kindred people were already engaged in a struggle for their very existence, yet, for a difference which it was easily possible to arrange by diplomatic means, this professed leader of civilization and boasted enemy of human slavery did all in her power to make a conflict inevitable and the triumph of an insurgent slave republic certain. A few almost unknown Englishmen presented an address to the prime minister at this time. It was an appeal from the Anti-Slavery Society. The case was well stated. They said: “Such an undertaking on the part of England would not only be most humiliating, but would lamentably contradict her past efforts and former sacrifices for the liberty of slaves; it would expose her protests to the reproach of hypocrisy from the rest of the world; it would destroy her claim and close her lips henceforth to every appeal addressed to the intelligence and conscience of other nations. The members of the society experience inexpressible horror and repugnance at the thought of seeing their country engaged in a war the virtual end of which would be the defense of slavery.”

The circumstances of this case permitted “recourse to the good offices of a friendly power” before rushing to arms. This would probably have been proposed by the United States, if any opportunity to do so had been permitted. It is known that this method would have been most satisfactory to President Lincoln. But the English view of the case was that a blow had been received and this was not a matter which admitted of arbitration. It must be settled by war unless the British demands were instantly granted. It was not an ordinary infraction of international law; it was an enormity, and therefore entirely proper that the first message sent to Lord Lyons should instruct him to demand his passports in seven days if the Federal government did not submit fully to the conditions dictated by England.

Captain Wilkes’s error was entirely excusable. It was in no respect like any of the genuine outrages which England has been guilty of in her dealings with America. In 1795 the British war ship Africa entered American waters with the avowed intention of seizing M. Fauchet, the French minister to the United States. He was traveling from New York to Newport in the packet Peggy, a neutral American vessel. Having received intimations of the intention of the commander of the Africa, M. Fauchet left the American vessel at Stonington, Conn. When the Peggy had arrived almost at the harbor of Newport, and while within the maritime jurisdiction of the United States, she was boarded from the Africa, the trunks of the passengers were searched and great disappointment shown on account of the absence of M. Fauchet. The British vice-consul at Newport aided in this matter. These facts show that the French minister to the United States escaped seizure, only because he had left the American packet a few hours before.⁠[6]

For three-quarters of a century England maintained and practiced the “right of search and seizure.” “The victims were counted by thousands. Lord Castlereagh himself admitted, on the floor of the House of Commons, that an inquiry instituted by the British government had discovered in the British fleet three thousand five hundred men claiming to be impressed Americans. At our department of state six thousand cases were recorded, and it was estimated that at least as many more might have occurred, of which no information had been received. Thus according to this official admission of the British minister there was reason to believe that the quarter-deck of a British man-of-war had been made a floating judgment-seat three thousand five hundred times, while according to the records of our own state department, it had been made a floating judgment-seat six thousand times and upwards, and each time an American citizen had been taken from the protection of his flag without any form of trial known to the law.”⁠[7] The practice was pursued with the utmost arrogance and without discrimination among those who were liable to seizure. On one occasion two nephews of Washington, returning from Europe, were seized on board an American vessel and placed under the ordinary discipline of a British man-of-war.

In 1837 a body of British troops entered the territory of the United States, seized the American steamer Caroline, which, it was claimed, had rendered some sort of service to the rebellious Canadians, set her on fire and allowed her to drift over the Falls of Niagara. But it is unnecessary to extend this list of outrages. There are enough of them to satisfy any one that the London Times was correct when it admitted that Great Britain was not “immaculate.”

In commenting upon this matter, Mr. Blaine says: “Whatever wrong was inflicted on the British flag by the action of Captain Wilkes had been, time and again, inflicted on the American flag by officers of the English navy, without cause, without redress, without apology. * * * But in view of the past, and of the long series of graver outrages with which Great Britain had so wantonly insulted the American flag, she might have refrained from invoking the judgment of the civilized world against us, and especially might she have refrained from making, in the hour of our sore trial and our deep distress, a demand which no British minister would address to this government in the day of its strength and its power.”⁠[8]

In conclusion it is worthy of remark that, with unimportant exceptions, the relations of the United States with the various countries of continental Europe have always been of the most friendly and agreeable character. In the revolution, France recognized the struggling Americans and furnished them timely and substantial aid. Russia has always been the steadfast friend of America and probably would have aided the United States in a third war against England in 1861.

War in the early history of the United States, and, in later times, a succession of diplomatic disputes which have often threatened war, constitute much the larger portion of the record of Anglo-American international relations. This should be a matter of sincere regret in both countries. President Buchanan stated the case well when he said, “No two nations have ever existed on the face of the earth which could do each other so much good or so much harm.”⁠[9] It is for this reason that every friend of either country should desire that the next century of their relations may be one of continuous peace and good-will.

AUTHORITIES AND REFERENCES.

1. Blaine, James G.: Twenty Years of Congress.

2. Dana’s Wheaton’s International Law, section 504, note.

3. De Gasparin: L’Amérique devant l’Europe.

4. De Gasparin: Un Grand Peuple qui se relève.

5. Edinburgh Review, Vol. CXV.

6. Ex. Document, 2d Session 35th Congress, Vol. II.

7. Senate Ex. Documents: Vol. I, 3d Session 37th Congress; No. 4, 37th Congress, 3d Session.

8. Sumner, Charles: Speech in U. S. Senate, Jan. 9, 1862.