“Unwelcome as the truth may be, it is nevertheless a truth, that we have ourselves established a system of International Law which now tells against us. In high-handed and almost despotic manner, we have, in former days, claimed privileges over neutrals which have at different times banded all the maritime powers of the world against us. We have insisted even upon stopping the ships of war of neutral nations and taking British subjects out of them.”[39]
The practice began early and was continued constantly; nor did it discriminate among its victims. It is mentioned by Mr. Jefferson, and repeated by an excellent British writer on International Law, that two nephews of Washington, on their way home from Europe, were ravished from the protection of the American flag, without any judicial proceedings, and placed, as common seamen, under the ordinary discipline of British ships of war.[40] 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,—claiming only. But while unwilling to accept this large number as all Americans, his Lordship could not deny, “that, in the great extent of the British navy, there were sixteen or seventeen hundred individuals who were there contrary to the wishes of His Majesty’s Government, and who had some rational ground for demanding their liberation, on the ground of their being subjects of the United States,”—which, I take it, is a pleonastic circumlocution to denote that at least sixteen hundred American citizens were originally kidnapped and stolen from American ships on the high seas, to undergo the servitude of the British navy: all of which can be read in the Parliamentary Debates.[41] At our Department of State upwards of 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.[42] Thus, according to 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 some citizen or other person was taken from the protection of the national flag without any form of trial whatever. If a pretension so intrinsically lawless could be sanctioned by precedent, Great Britain would have succeeded in interpolating it into the Law of Nations.
The numbers sacrificed have been often denied on the other side; but candid Englishmen have made admissions which are on record. The “Edinburgh Review,” at a moment when its authority was at its height, and truth prevailed above controversy, said:—
“The two lists made out in 1801 and 1812 of impressed Americans can be but a small part of the American case against us. From that fraction of their case we may, however, form some opinion on the extent to which freemen, who would be a scandal to their English ancestry, unless liberty was as dear as life, must have writhed under our practice of impressment. Prior to September, 1801, 1,132 native American sailors were set at liberty by the English Government, as having been wrongfully impressed. On the war with America in 1812, another division of 1,422 native Americans, every one of them having been so taken, were transferred out of our men-of-war into our prisons. This is proved from English documents. Here are nearly two thousand six hundred sufferers, victims of a greater outrage than one free nation ever assumed the privilege of inflicting on another,—an outrage which no nation deserving the name of a nation, and solemnly bound to protect its meanest members, can be expected patiently to endure.”[43]
Such words by one of us might be treated as the exaltation of patriotic indignation. Here, it is history written by the other side.
Even assuming, that, according to frequent British allegation, the persons taken were British subjects and not American citizens, which would make the act identical with that of Captain Wilkes, this only presents in stronger relief the precise point now in issue. Whether the victims were American citizens or British subjects, there was in each case the same forcible entry of our ships and taking from our decks.
Protest, argument, negotiation, correspondence, and war itself—unhappily the last reason of republics, as of kings—were all employed by the United States in vain to procure renunciation of the intolerable pretension. The ablest papers in our diplomatic history are devoted to this purpose; and the only serious war in which we have been engaged, until summoned to subdue the Rebellion, was to overcome by arms this very tyranny, which would not yield to reason. Beginning in the last century, the correspondence is at length closed by the recent reply of Mr. Seward to Lord Lyons. The long continued occasion of conflict is now happily removed, and the pretension disappears forever,—to take its place among the barbaric curiosities of the past.
But I do not content myself with asserting the persistent opposition of the American Government. It belongs to the argument that I should exhibit this opposition, and the precise ground on which it was placed,—being identical with that now adopted by Great Britain. Here the testimony is complete. If you will kindly follow me, you shall see it from the beginning in the public life of our country, and in the authentic records of the National Government.
This British pretension aroused and startled the administration of Washington, and the pen of Mr. Jefferson, his Secretary of State, was enlisted against it. In a letter to Thomas Pinckney, Minister at London, dated June 11, 1792, he announced the American doctrine.
“The simplest rule will be, that the vessel being American shall be evidence that the seamen on board her are such.”[44]