A WORD OF PEACE.
Between the meetings of Liverpool and the ovations of New York, is there not room for a word of peace? A word of peace, I know well, must be a word of impartiality. The speaker must resign himself to be treated as an American in England, and as an Englishman in America; but what does this matter if truth make its way, and if an obstacle the more be raised in the way of this horrible war, this war contrary to nature, which would begin by ensuring the triumph of the champions of negro slavery, and would end by exposing the cause of free institutions to more than one perilous hazard?
There is one fundamental rule to follow in questions arising out of the right of search: to distrust first impressions. These, are always very vivid. An insult to the honor of the flag is always in question. Patriotic sensibilities, which I comprehend and which I respect, are always brought into play. It is impossible that these officers, these stranger sailors, who have given commands and exacted obedience, who have stopped the ship on its way, who have set foot on the sacred deck where floats the banner of the country, who have interrogated, who have searched, who have had recourse, perhaps, to graver measures—it is impossible that they should not have called forth many sentiments of anger and indignation. Even when practised with the most rigid formalities, even when confined within the limits of the strictest legality, the right of search cannot fail to produce a feeling of annoyance. The recent search of the Jules et Marie, the yards of which were carried away and the barricadings driven in, seems to me the faithful type of all visits of search on the high seas—every one of them brings damages in its train.
Notwithstanding, the right of search is disputed by no one, and will be exercised in time of war, until the moment when the American proposition, reproduced again the other day by General Scott, shall be welcomed by our Old World.
I have just written the name of General Scott, and I did so with a feeling of pleasure. Whoever has read his letter, must have said to himself with me, that there exists in the United States a class of intelligent and moderate men—patriots, who have given proof of their capacity and are capable of examining dispassionately the demands of the English Government. These men know how much the maintenance of friendly relations with England is worth in the present position of America. Whatever opinion they may form on the question of right growing out of the action of Captain Wilkes, they comprehend that no consideration can weigh in the balance against the danger of bringing about the recognition of the Southern Confederacy, the breaking of the blockade, war, in short, with a powerful and friendly nation, a sister nation, sprung from the same blood, speaking the same language, devoted to the same mission of civilization and liberty. No honorable sacrifice would cost them too dear in order to avert this fearful catastrophe.
Would that they could see with their own eyes, were it but for a moment, what is passing to-day in Europe! Their enemies triumph, and their friends are struck with consternation. We, who have always loved America, and who love her better now that she is suffering for a noble cause; we who have defended her, we who have never ceased to believe in her final success, despite mistakes and repulses, feel all our hopes threatened at once; the ground seems sinking beneath our feet. No, we cannot suppose that America, in recklessness of heart, will destroy with her own hands the fruit of so many efforts and sacrifices. This would not be patriotism, it would not be dignity, it would be an act of madness and suicide.
If the Trent has violated the rules of neutrality, it remains none the less certain that other rules have been violated by the San Jacinto. The duty of naval officers is limited to visiting ships and stopping them, if need be, to carry them before a prize court. They cannot exercise the office of judge. In substituting the arrest of individuals for the seizure of ships, and a military act for a judicial decree, Captain Wilkes has given ground for the well-founded protests of England, at the same time that he has left the way open, thank God! for measures of reparation to be adopted by the United States.
I know very well that there would have been no less indignation at Liverpool and London in case that the Trent had been stopped on her way and carried before American courts. Perhaps, indeed, the regular and correct procedure would have been more deeply wounding than that of which England complains. We may be permitted to doubt with General Scott that "the injury would have been less, had it been greater." But this is not the practical question, the only one that now concerns us. The point is to get out of embarrassment; and the error committed by the commander of the San Jacinto furnishes a reasonable ground for consenting to the liberation of the prisoners.