liberty!"
How could England do this, how with the same breath blow cold and hot,

how be against the North that was fighting the extension of slavery and
yet be against slavery too? Confusing at the time, it is clear to-day.

Imbedded in Lincoln's first inaugural address lies the clew: he said, "I
have no purpose, directly or indirectly, to interfere with the

institution of slavery where it exists. I believe I have no lawful right
to do so, and I have no inclination to do so. Those who elected me did so

with full knowledge that I had made this and many similar declarations,
and had never recanted them." Thus Lincoln, March 4, 1861. Six weeks

later, when we went-to war, we went, not "to interfere with the
institution of slavery," but (again in Lincoln's words) "to preserve,

protect, and defend" the Union. This was our slogan, this our fight,
this was repeated again and again by our soldiers and civilians, by our

public men and our private citizens. Can you see the position of those
Englishmen who condemned slavery and praised liberty? We ourselves said

we were not out to abolishslavery, we disclaimed any such object, by our
own words we cut the ground away from them.

Not until September 22d of 1862, to take effect upon January 1, 1863, did
Lincoln proclaimemancipation--thus doing what he had said twenty-two

months before "I believe I have no lawful right to do."
That interim of anguish and meditation had cleared his sight. Slowly he

had felt his way, slowly he had come to perceive that the preservation of
the Union and the abolition of slavery were so tightly wrapped together

as to merge and be one and the same thing. But even had he known this
from the start, known that the North's bottom cause, the ending of

slavery, rested on moral ground, and that moral ground outweighs and must
forever outweigh whatever of legal argument may be on the other side, he

could have done nothing. "I believe I have no lawful right." There were
thousands in the North who also thus believed. It was only an extremist

minority who disregarded the Constitution's acquiescence in slavery and
wanted emancipationproclaimed at once. Had Lincoln proclaimed it, the

North would have split in pieces, the South would have won, the Union
would have perished, and slavery would have remained. Lincoln had to wait

until the season of anguish and meditation had unblinded thousands
besides himself, and thus had placed behind him enough of the North to

struggle on to that saving of the Union and that freeing of the slave
which was consummated more than two years later by Lee's surrender to

Grant at Appomattox.
But it was during that interim of anguish and meditation that England did

us most of the harm which our memories vaguely but violently treasure.
Until the Emancipation, we gave our English friends no public, official

grounds for their sympathy, and consequently their influence over our
English enemies was hampered. Instantly after January 1, 1863, that

sympathy became the deciding voice. Our enemies could no longer say to
it, "but Lincoln says himself that he doesn't intend to abolishslavery."

Here are examples of what occurred: To William Lloyd Garrison, the
Abolitionist, an English sympathizer wrote that three thousand men of

Manchester had met there and adopted by acclamation an enthusiastic
message to Lincoln. These men said that they would rather remain unem-

ployed for twenty years than get cotton from the South at the expense of
the slave. A month later Cobden writes to Charles Sumner: "I know nothing

in my political experience so striking, an a display of spontaneous
public action, as that of the vast gathering at Exeter Hall (in London),

when, without one attraction in the form of a popular orator, the vast
building, its minor rooms and passages, and the streets adjoining, were

crowded with an enthusiasticaudience. That meeting has had a powerful
effect on our newspapers and politicians. It has closed the mouths of

those who have been advocating the side of the South. And I now write to
assure you that any unfriendly act on the part of our Government--no

matter which of our aristocratic parties is in power--towards your cause
is not to be apprehended. If an attempt were made by the Government in

any way to commit us to the South, a spirit would be instantly aroused
which would drive that Government from power."

I lay emphasis at this point upon these instances (many more could be
given) because it has been the habit of most Americans to say that

England stopped being hostile to the North as soon as the North began to
win. In January, 1863, the North had not visibly begun to win. It had

suffered almost unvaried defeat so far; and the battles of Gettysburg and
Vicksburg, where the tide turned at last our way, were still six months

ahead. It was from January 1, 1863, when Lincoln planted our cause firmly
and openly on abolition ground, that the undercurrent of British sympathy

surged to the top. The true wonder is, that this undercurrent should have
been so strong all along, that those English sympathizers somehow in

their hearts should have known what we were fighting for more clearly
than we had been able to see it; ourselves. The key to this is given in

Beecher's letter--it is nowhere better given--and to it I must now
return.

"I soon perceived that my first error was in supposing that Great Britain
was an impartialspectator. In fact, she was morally an actor in the

conflict. Such were the antagonistic influences at work in her own midst,
and the division of parties, that, in judging American affairs she could

not help lendingsanction to one or the other side of her own internal
conflicts. England was not, then, a judge, sitting calmly on the bench to

decide without bias; the case brought before her was her own, in
principle, and in interest. In taking sides with the North, the common

people of Great Britain and the laboring class took sides with themselves
in their struggle for reformation; while the wealthy and the privileged

classes found a reason in their own political parties and philosophies
why they should not be too eager for the legitimate government and nation

of the United States.
"All classes who, at home, were seeking the elevation and political

enfranchisement of the common people, were with us. All who studied the
preservation of the state in its present unequaldistribution of

political privileges, sided with that section in America that were doing
the same thing.

"We ought not to be surprised nor angry that men should maintain
aristocratic doctrines which they believe in fully as sincerely, and more

consistently, than we, or many amongst us do, in democratic doctrines.
"We of all people ought to understand how a government can be cold or

semi-hostile, while the people are friendly with us. For thirty years the
American Government, in the hands, or under the influence of Southern

statesmen, has been in a threatening attitude to Europe, and actually in
disgraceful conflict with all the weak neighboring Powers. Texas, Mexico,

Central Generics, and Cuba are witnesses. Yet the great body of our people
in the Middle and Northern States are strongly opposed to all such

tendencies."
It was in a very brief visit that Beecher managed to see England as she

was: a remarkable letter for its insight, and more remarkable still for
its moderation, when you consider that it was written in the midst of our

Civil War, while loyal Americans were not only enraged with England, but
wounded to the quick as well. When a man can do this--can have passionate

convictions in passionate times, and yet keep his judgment unclouded,
wise, and calm, he serves his country well.

I can remember the rage and the wound. In that atmosphere I began my
existence. My childhood was steeped in it. In our house the London Punch

was stopped, because of its hostileridicule. I grew to boyhood hearing
from my elders how England had for years taunted us with our tolerance of

slavery while we boasted of being the Land of the Free--and then, when we
arose to abolishslavery, how she "jack-knived" and gave aid and comfort

to the slave power when it had its fingers upon our throat. Many of that
generation of my elders never wholly got over the rage and the wound.

They hated all England for the sake of less than half England. They
counted their enemies but never their friends. There's nothing unnatural

about this, nothing rare. On the contrary, it's the usual, natural,
unjust thing that human nature does in times of agony. It's the Henry

Ward Beechers that are rare. In times of agony the average man and woman
see nothing but their agony. When I look over some of the letters that I

received from England in 1915--letters from strangers evoked by a book
called The Pentecost of Calamity, wherein I had published my conviction

that the cause of England was righteous, the cause of Germany hideous,
and our own persistent neutrality unworthy--I'm glad I lost my temper

only once, and replied caustically only once. How dreadful (wrote one of
my correspondents) must it be to belong to a nation that was behaving

like mine! I retorted (I'm sorry for it now) that I could all the more
readily comprehend English feeling about our neutrality, because I had