We gazed and wept and wondered, lifting up our heads to see if the end had come, but no! Looking from one end of that long avenue to the other, we saw them yet in solid column, battery front, host beyond host, wheel to wheel, charger to charger, nostril to nostril, coming as it were from under the capitol. Forward! Forward! Their bayonets, caught in the sun, glimmered and flashed and blazed, till they seemed like one long river of silver, ever and anon changed into a river of fire. No end to the procession, no rest for the eyes. We turned our heads from the scene, unable longer to look. We felt disposed to stop our ears, but still we heard it, marching, marching; tramp, tramp, tramp. But hush—uncover every head! Here they pass, the remnant of ten men of a full regiment. Silence! Widowhood and orphanage look on and wring their hands. But wheel into line, all ye people! North, South, East, West—all decades, all centuries, all millenniums! Forward, the whole line! Huzza! Huzza!



THE HOLLANDER AS AN AMERICAN

Speech of Theodore Roosevelt at the eleventh annual dinner of the Holland Society of New York, January 15, 1896.

MR. PRESIDENT, GENTLEMEN, AND BRETHREN OF THE HOLLAND SOCIETY:—I am more than touched, if you will permit me to begin rather seriously, by the way you have greeted me to-night. When I was in Washington, there was a story in reference to a certain president, who was not popular with some of his own people in a particular western state. One of its senators went to the White House and said he wanted a friend of his appointed postmaster of Topeka. The president's private secretary said, "I am very sorry, indeed, sir, but the president wants to appoint a personal friend." Thereupon the senator said: "Well, for God's sake, if he has one friend in Kansas, let him appoint him!"

There have been periods during which the dissembled eulogies of the able press and my relations with about every politician of every party and every faction have made me feel I would like to know whether I had one friend in New York, and here I feel I have many. And more than that, gentlemen, I should think ill of myself and think that I was a discredit to the stock from which I sprang if I feared to go on along the path that I deemed right, whether I had few friends or many.

I am glad to answer to the toast, "The Hollander as an American." The Hollander was a good American, because the Hollander was fitted to be a good citizen. There are two branches of government which must be kept on a high plane, if any nation is to be great. A nation must have laws that are honestly and fearlessly administered, and it must be ready, in time of need, to fight; and we men of Dutch descent have here to-night these gentlemen of the same blood as ourselves who represent New York so worthily on the bench, and a major-general of the army of the United States.

It seems to me, at times, that the Dutch in America have one or two lessons to teach. We want to teach the very refined and very cultivated men who believe it impossible that the United States can ever be right in a quarrel with another nation—a little of the elementary virtue of patriotism. And we also wish to teach our fellow citizens that laws are put on the statute books to be enforced and that if it is not intended they shall be enforced it is a mistake to put a Dutchman in office to enforce them.

The lines put on the program underneath my toast begin: "America! half brother of the world!" America, half brother of the world—and all Americans full brothers one to the other. That is the way that line should be concluded. The prime virtue of the Hollander here in America and the way in which he has most done credit to his stock as a Hollander, is that he has ceased to be a Hollander and has become an American, absolutely. We are not Dutch-Americans. We are not "Americans" with a hyphen before it. We are Americans pure and simple, and we have a right to demand that the other people whose stocks go to compose our great nation, like ourselves, shall cease to be aught else and shall become Americans.

And further than that, we have another thing to demand, and that is that if they do honestly and in good faith become Americans, those shall be regarded as infamous who dare to discriminate against them because of creed or because of birthplace. When New Amsterdam had but a few hundred souls, among those few hundred souls no less than eighteen different race stocks were represented, and almost as many creeds as there were race stocks, and the great contribution that the Hollander gave to the American people was the inestimable lesson of complete civil and religious liberty. It would be honor enough for this stock to have been the first to put on American soil the public school, the great engine for grinding out American citizens, the one institution for which Americans should stand more stiffly than for aught other.

Whenever America has demanded of her sons that they should come to her aid, whether in time of peace or in time of war, the Americans of Dutch stock have been among the first to spring to the aid of the country. We earnestly hope that there will not in the future be any war with any power, but assuredly if there should be such a war one thing may be taken for certain, and that is that every American of Dutch descent will be found on the side of the United States. We give the amplest credit, that some people now, to their shame, grudge to the profession of arms, which we have here to-night represented by a man, who, when he has the title of a major general of the army of the United States, has a title as honorable as any that there is on the wide earth. We also need to teach the lesson, that the Hollander taught, of not refusing to do the small things because the day of large things had not yet come or was in the past; of not waiting until the chance may come to distinguish ourselves in arms, and meanwhile neglecting the plain, prosaic duties of citizenship which call upon us every hour, every day of our lives.

The Dutch kept their freedom in the great contest with Spain, not merely because they warred valiantly, but because they did their duty as burghers in their cities, because they strove according to the light that was in them to be good citizens and to act as such. And we all here to-night should strive so to live that we Americans of Dutch descent shall not seem to have shrunk in this respect, compared to our fathers who spoke another tongue and lived under other laws beyond the ocean; so that it shall be acknowledged in the end to be what it is, a discredit to a man if he does not in times of peace do all that in him lies to make the government of the city, the government of the country, better and cleaner by his efforts.

I spoke of the militant spirit as if it may only be shown in time of war. I think that if any of you gentlemen, no matter how peaceful you may naturally be, and I am very peaceful naturally, if you would undertake the administration of the Police Department you would have plenty of fighting on hand before you would get through; and if you are true to your blood you will try to do the best you can, fighting or not fighting. You will make up your mind that you will make mistakes, because you won't make anything if you don't make some mistakes, and you will go forward according to your lights, utterly heedless of what either politicians or newspapers may say, knowing that if you act as you feel bound according to your conscience to act, you will then at least have the right when you go out of office, however soon, to feel that you go out without any regret, and to feel that you have according to your capacity, warred valiantly for what you deemed to be the right.

These, then, are the qualities that I should claim for the Hollander as an American: In the first place, that he has cast himself without reservation into the current of American life; that he is an American, pure and simple, and nothing else. In the next place, that he works hand in hand and shoulder to shoulder with his fellow Americans, without any regard to differences of creed or to differences of race and religion, if only they are good Americans. In the third place, that he is willing, when the need shall arise, to fight for his country; and in the fourth place, and finally, that he recognizes that this is a country of laws and not men, that it is his duty as an honest citizen to uphold the laws, to strive for honesty, to strive for a decent administration, and to do all that in him lies, by incessant, patient work in our government, municipal or national, to bring about the day when it shall be taken as a matter of course that every public official is to execute a law honestly, and that no capacity in a public officer shall atone if he is personally dishonest.



THE ADOPTED CITIZEN

Speech of Gen. Ulysses S. Grant at the 115th annual banquet of the Chamber of Commerce of the State of New York, May 8, 1883.

MR. PRESIDENT AND GENTLEMEN OF THE CHAMBER OF COMMERCE AND GUESTS:—I am very much obliged to your president for calling upon me first, because the agony will soon be over and I shall enjoy the misery of the rest of you.

The first part of this toast—The United States—would be a voluminous one to respond to on a single occasion. Bancroft commenced to publish his notes on the History of the United States, starting even before President Lane established this Chamber, which I think was something over one hundred years ago. Bancroft, I say, commenced earlier, and I am not prepared to dispute his word if he should say that he had kept an accurate journal from the time he commenced to write about the country to the present, because there has been no period of time when I have been alive that I have not heard of Bancroft, and I should be equally credulous if President Lane should tell me that he was here at the founding of this Institution. But instead of bringing those volumes of Bancroft's here, and reading them to you on this occasion, I will let the reporters publish them as the prelude to what I am going to say.

I think Bancroft has finished up to a little after the time that President Lane established this Chamber of Commerce, and I will let you take the records of what he (Lane) has written and what he has said in their monthly meetings and publish them as the second chapter of my speech. And, gentlemen, those two chapters you will find the longest; they will not amount to much more than what I have to say taking up the subject at the present time.

But in speaking of the United States, we who are native-born have a country of which we may well be proud. Those of us who have been abroad are better able, perhaps, to make the comparison of our enjoyments and our comforts than those who have always stayed at home. It has been the fortune, I presume, of the majority here to compare the life and the circumstances of the average people abroad with ours here. We have here a country that affords room for all and room for every enterprise. We have institutions which encourage every man who has industry and ability to rise from the position in which he may find himself to any position in the land. It is hardly worth my while to dwell upon the subject, but there is one point which I notice in the toast, that I would like to say a word about—"May those who seek the blessings of its free institutions and the protection of its flag remember the obligations they impose." I think there is a text that my friend Mr. Beecher,[7] on the left, or my friend Dr. Newman,[8] on the right, might well preach a long sermon upon. I shall say only a few words.

We offer an asylum to every man of foreign birth who chooses to come here and settle upon our soil; we make of him, after a few years' residence only, a citizen endowed with all the rights that any of us have, except perhaps the single one of being elected to the presidency of the United States. There is no other privilege that a native, no matter what he has done for the country, has that the adopted citizen of five years' standing has not got. I contend that that places upon him an obligation which, I am sorry to say, many of them do not seem to feel.

We have witnessed on many occasions here the foreign, the adopted, citizen claiming many rights and privileges because he was an adopted citizen. That is all wrong. Let him come here and enjoy all the privileges that we enjoy, but let him fulfill all the obligations that we are expected to fulfill. After he has adopted it, let this be his country—a country that he will fight for, and die for, if necessary. I am glad to say that the great majority of them do it, but some of them who mingle in politics seem to bank largely on the fact that they are adopted citizens; and that class I am opposed to as much as I am opposed to many other things that I see are popular now.

I know that other speakers will come forward, and when Mr. Beecher and Dr. Newman speak, I hope they will say a few words on the text which I read.



OUR NAVY

Speech of Hampton L. Carson, delivered at the dinner of the Union League, Philadelphia, April 5, 1899, in honor of Captain Charles E. Clark, U. S. N., late Commander of the battleship "Oregon."

MR. PRESIDENT AND GENTLEMEN OF THE UNION LEAGUE:—It was my good fortune, some eighteen months ago, to be in the city of Seattle, when the "Monterey" was lying in the harbor under the command of Captain Clark. At the time of my visit clear skies, placid waters and silent guns gave little indication of the awful responsibility that was soon to be imposed upon the gallant commander. My boys, having met him, were, like myself, intensely interested in the outcome of his voyage; and I can say to him that the pulsations of the engines which drove the Oregon through fourteen thousand miles of tropic seas were accompanied by the sympathetic beatings of hearts which had learned to love and respect this great captain as he richly deserved.

The American Navy! The most concise tribute that I ever heard paid to the sailors of the United States was contained in the answer of a man from Indiana, who was an applicant for office under General Grant, just after the Civil Service rules had gone into operation. The applicant was apprehensive as to his ability to respond to the questions, but one of his answers captured the board of examiners as well as the president, and he secured the place. The question was, "How many sailors did Great Britain send here, during the war of the Revolution, for the purpose of subduing us?" and the answer was, "More by a——sight than ever got back."

When Louis XIV, in order to check what he perceived to be the growing supremacy of England upon the seas, determined to establish a navy, he sent for his minister Colbert, and said to him, "I wish a navy—how can I create it!" Colbert replied, "Make as many galley slaves as you can." Thereupon every Huguenot who refused to doff his bonnet on the street as the king passed by, every boy of seventeen who could give no account of himself, every vagrant without an occupation, was seized, convicted, and sent to the galleys. Could a navy of heroes be made of galley slaves! The history of the Anglo-Saxon race says "No."

On the twenty-second day of December, 1775, the navy of the United States was born on the waters of our Delaware. On that day Esek Hopkins, of Rhode Island, was placed in command of a little fleet of eight vessels—two of them ships, two of them brigs, the others very much smaller. The English officers sneered in derision at "the fleet of whaleboats." The rattlesnake flag—a yellow flag with a pine tree in the centre and a rattlesnake coiled beneath its branches, with the words "Don't tread on me"—was run to the masthead of the Providence, being hauled there by the hands of the first lieutenant, John Paul Jones. That little fleet of eight vessels, mounting only 114 guns, was sent forth to confront a naval power of 112 battleships with 3,714 guns—not a single gun of ours throwing a ball heavier than nine pounds, while five hundred of the English guns threw a weight of metal of double that amount. Wasn't it an audacious thing? Why, it seems to me one of the marvels of human history when I reflect upon what was attempted by the Americans of 1776.

Look at the situation. Thirteen different colonies strung along a narrow strip of coast; three thousand miles of rolling ocean on the one side and three thousand miles of impenetrable wilderness on the other; colonies with infinite diversity of interests—diverse in blood, diverse in conditions of society, diverse in ambition, diverse in pursuits—the English Puritan on the rock of Plymouth, the Knickerbocker Dutch on the shores of the Hudson, the Jersey Quaker on the other side of the Delaware, the Swede extending from here to Wilmington, Maryland bisected by our great bay of the Chesapeake, Virginia cut in half by the same water way, North Carolina and South Carolina lying south of impenetrable swamps as inaccessible to communication as a range of mountains, and farther south the sparsely-settled colony of Georgia. Huguenot, Cavalier, Catholic, Quaker, Dutchman, Puritan, Mennonite, Moravian, and Church of England men; and yet, under the hammer stroke of British oppression, thirteen colonies were welded into one thunderbolt, which was launched at the throne of George III.

That little navy under Hopkins—where were those sailors bred? Read Burke's speech on the conciliation of America. They sprang from the loins of hardy fishermen amidst tumbling fields of ice on the banks of Newfoundland, from those who had speared whales in the tepid waters of Brazil, or who had pursued their gigantic game into the Arctic zone or beneath the light of the Southern Cross. That fleet of eight ships sailed from the Delaware on the twenty-second of December, 1775, and proceeded to the island of New Providence, among the Bahamas. Our colonies and our armies were without arms, without powder, without munitions of war. The very first exploit of the fleet was the capture, on the nineteenth of March, 1776, of 150 cannon, 130 barrels of powder and eight warships, which were carried in triumph into Long Island Sound. But what of American heroism when the soldiers of Howe, of Clinton, of Carleton, and of Gage came here to fight the farmers of Pennsylvania, of Connecticut and Virginia, and the gay cavaliers who loved adventure? The British soldiers had conquered India under Sir Robert Clive and Sir Eyre Coote; they had been the heroes of Plassey and Pondicherry; men who had subjected to British dominion a country almost as extensive as our own fair republic and containing one hundred and ninety millions of souls. Here they found themselves faced by men of their own blood, men in whose breasts burned the spirit and the love of that liberty which was to encircle the heavens. On the glory-crowned heights of Bunker Hill the patriots gazed at the rafters of their own burning dwellings in the town of Charlestown, and heard the cannon shots hurled from British ships against the base of the hill. Three times did scarlet regiments ascend that hill only to be driven back; the voice of that idiot boy, Job Pray, ringing out above the din of battle, "Let them come on to Breed's—the people will teach them the law."

When the evacuation by the British of the metropolis of New England was effected by the troops under the command of a Virginia soldier, General Washington, then for the first time did sectionalism and partisanship and divisions on narrow lines vanish; the patriots who had fought at Bunker Hill were now no longer to be known as the troops of Massachusetts, of Connecticut, or of Rhode Island, but henceforth it was the Continental Army. On the very day when the British were driven out of Boston, John Paul Jones, with that historic rattlesnake flag, and, floating above it, not the Stars and Stripes, but the Stripes with the Union Jack, entered the waters of Great Britain; and then it was seen that an American captain with an American ship and American sailors had the pluck to push out into foreign seas and to beard the British lion in his den. The same channel which had witnessed the victories of De Ruyter and Von Tromp, which was the scene of Blake's victory over the Dutch, and where the father of our great William Penn won his laurels as an admiral, was now the scene of the exploits of an American captain fighting beneath an American flag for American rights inherited from old mother England, who, in a moment of forgetfulness, had sought to deprive her offspring of liberty. I know of no more thrilling incident in revolutionary naval annals than the fight between the Serapis and the Bon Homme Richard, when Paul Jones, on the burning deck of a sinking ship, lashed his yard arms to those of the enemy and fought hand to hand, man to man, until the British colors struck, and then, under the very cliffs of Old England, were run up for the first time the Stars and Stripes—with a field of blue into which the skillful fingers of Betsy Ross, of Philadelphia, had woven inextinguishable stars; the red stripes typifying the glory, the valor, and the self-sacrifice of the men who died that liberty might live; and the white, emblematic of purity, fitly representing those principles to preserve which these men had sanctified themselves by an immortal self-dedication. And there, too, in the Continental Navy was Richard Dale, the young "Middy," who fought beside Paul Jones; and Joshua Barney; and John Barry; and Nicholas Biddle of Philadelphia, who later, in the gallant little Randolph, in order to help a convoyed fleet of American merchantmen to escape, boldly attacked the battleship Yarmouth; and when it was found that he was doomed to defeat, blew up his vessel, perishing with all his crew, rather than strike the colors of the newly-born republic.

All honor to the navy of the United States! I never can read of its exploits—peaceful citizen as I am—without my blood bubbling with a joyous sense of exultation at the thought that the flag which has swept the seas, carrying liberty behind it, is the flag which is destined to sweep the seas again and carry liberty, civilization, and all the blessings of free government into benighted islands far, far from hence.

Why, gentlemen, the story of the exploits of our little fleets reads like a romance. At the end of the Revolutionary War eight hundred British ships, fifteen of them battleships, had surrendered to the prowess of the American navy, together with twelve thousand five hundred prisoners captured by less than three thousand men; and in that war our country had produced the boldest admirals that, up to that time, civilization had known, and the greatest fighting naval heroes that the world had seen.

Then came the War of 1812, to establish sailors' rights upon the high seas, when the American navy again proved victor despite overwhelming odds. I have in my possession a list of the British and American vessels at the outbreak of that war; and if I were to represent them by something tangible in order to indicate the proportions of each, I would say, taking this box lid for example (illustrating with the stem of a rose upon the cover of a discarded flower box), that if you were to draw a line across here, near the top, you would have sufficient space in the narrow strip above the dividing line to write the names of all the American ships, while the entire remaining space would not be more than sufficient for the English fleet, which was more than thirty times the size of its antagonist. The ships which under Nelson had fought at the Nile and had won imperishable glory at Trafalgar, coming into our waters, struck their flags time and again. The glorious old "Ironsides" (the Constitution) captured the Guerriere, the Java, the Cyane, and Levant. The United States took the Macedonian; the Wasp destroyed the Frolic, while on the lakes we point with pride to the victories of Perry and MacDonough. When battle after battle had been fought it was found that, of eighteen fixed engagements, seventeen were victories for the Stars and Stripes. And this over the greatest maritime war power of the world!

Philadelphia is honorably associated with the glories of our navy. Our early battleships, though not all built here, were planned and constructed by Joshua Humphreys, a Philadelphian, the predecessor of our great shipbuilder of to-day, Charles H. Cramp.

Need I speak of the navy from 1861 to 1865, or tell of the exploits of those gallant fleets which clove a pathway down the valley of the Ohio, of the Tennessee, and of the Mississippi, in order that liberty might ride unvexed from the lakes to the gulf? Need I dwell upon the part taken by the guest of this evening, who was an officer who fought under Farragut?

In our recent war with Spain there were some who, in doubting moments, yielded to that atrabilious disposition which has been so well described by Mr. Tomkins; who thought that our ships were not strong enough to hazard an encounter with the fleets of Spain. But meanwhile there was doubling "around the Horn" a battleship, with a captain and a crew whose marvelous voyage was attracting the eyes of the world. Night after night we took up the map, traced his course from port to port, and our hearts beat high, our lips were firmly compressed, the color faded from our cheeks with excitement, but our eyes blazed with exultant anticipation as nearer and nearer to Pernambuco did he come. We all now feel, judging of the possibilities by actual achievement, that had Captain Clark encountered the enemy's ships, he could and would have successfully fought and defeated the entire Spanish fleet. He carried his ship ready for instant actions, every man at his post. God bless that crew! God bless those stokers, far down below those decks, confident that the captain who commanded them was on the bridge, and that he would never flinch nor fail in the hour of trial! I have often tried to draw a mental picture of what the scene must have been when the Oregon steamed in to join the fleet before Santiago; when the white jackets on the yard-arms tossed their caps in the air, and southern tars gave back to Yankee cheers a lusty welcome to the man who for so long, against all odds, with no encouraging advices, with unknown terrors all about him, had never flinched from duty, and who, when the last summons came, responded in the words of Colonel Newcomb, Adsum—"I am here."

On the morning of the third of July, 1898, there stood the frowning Morro Castle, the prison of the glorious Hobson; on the other side the fortress of Estrella; the narrow channel blocked by the wreck of the Merrimac; the Brooklyn, the Oregon, the Texas, the Indiana, the Iowa and the Massachusetts all watching that orifice. Then black smoke rolled from the tunnels of the enemy's ships, indicating that the tiger had roused him from his lair and was making a rush for the open sea. Up went the signal on the flagstaff of the Brooklyn, "Forward—the enemy is approaching." Then engines moved; then guns thundered their volleys; then sky and sea became black with the smoke of battle; and swiftly steamed the Oregon in pursuit of the Cristobal Colon. Beneath well-directed shots the monster reeled, like a wounded athlete, to the beach; and then from the flagstaff of the New York were displayed those signals now on these walls before your eyes—"1-7-3; cornet; 2m-9m-7m"—which, translated, meant—and we of the League to-night repeat the words—"Well done, Oregon."

Captain Clark, the city of Philadelphia has always contributed her share to the building of the navy and to a fitting recognition of the heroes who have commanded our battleships. In the old churchyard of St. Mary's, on Fourth Street, sleep the bones of John Barry; and in the older churchyard of St. Peter's stands the monument to Decatur. We have with us also the ashes of Stewart, who commanded "Old Ironsides" when she captured the Cyane and the Levant; and we have those of Bainbridge, who captured the Java.

In reading of the exploits of the master spirits of the past, I have sometimes wondered whether we had men of to-day who were their equals. My answer is this: I say to soldiers and sailors, whether of our Civil War or of the late war with Spain, you are worthy of your sires, you have caught the inspiration of their glowing deeds, you have taken up the burden which they threw upon your shoulders, and though in time to come you may sleep in unmarked graves, the memory of your deeds will live; and, like your sires, you have become immortal.

To fight for liberty is indeed a privilege. "Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still, Slavery, thou art a bitter draught; and, though thousands in all ages have been made to drink thee, thou art no less bitter on that account. 'Tis thou, O Liberty! thrice sweet and gracious goddess, whose taste is grateful, and ever will be so till nature herself shall change. No tint of words can spot thy snowy mantle, nor chemic power turn thy scepter into iron. With thee to smile upon him, as he eats his crust, the swain is happier than the monarch from whose courts thou art exiled." So wrote Laurence Sterne.

And then Rufus Choate: "To form and uphold a state, it is not enough that our judgments should believe it to be useful; the better part of our affections should feel it to be lovely. It is not enough that our arithmetic should compute its value and find it high; our hearts should hold it priceless—above all things rich and rare—dearer than health and beauty, brighter than all the order of the stars." In contemplating those mysterious dispensations of Providence by which the light which broke upon this continent two hundred years ago is now penetrating and illuminating the darkest corners of the earth, it will be a supreme satisfaction for us to know that our children and our children's children will have set for their imitation and encouragement the example of the heroism, the manliness, the courage, the patriotism and the modesty of the captains of to-day.



THE PATRIOTISM OF PEACE

Address by William Jennings Bryan delivered in London, in the Royal Gallery of the House of Lords, on July 26, 1906, at the session of the Interparliamentary Union or Peace Congress. It is given here by special permission of Mr. Bryan and his publishers—Funk and Wagnalls Company, New York and London.

I regret that I cannot speak to you in the language which is usually employed in this body, but I know only one language, the language of my own country, and you will pardon me if I use that. I desire in the first place to express my appreciation of the courtesy shown me by Lord Weardale, our president, and by Baron von Plener, the chairman of the committee which framed the model treaty. The latter has framed this substitute embodying both of the ideas (investigation and meditation) which were presented yesterday. I recognize the superior wisdom and the greater experience of this learned committee which has united the two propositions, and I thank this body also for the opportunity to say just a word in defense of my part of the resolution. I cannot say that it is a new idea, for since it was presented yesterday I have learned that the same idea in substance was presented last year at Brussels by Mr. Bartholdt, of my own country, who has been so conspicuous in his efforts to promote peace, and I am very glad that I can follow in his footsteps in the urging of this amendment. I may add also that it is in line with the suggestion made by the honorable prime minister of Great Britain, Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, in that memorable and epoch-making speech of yesterday, in that speech which contained several sentences any one of which would have justified the assembling of this Interparliamentary Union—any one of which would have compensated us all for coming here. In that splendid speech he expressed the hope that the scope of arbitration treaties might be enlarged. He said:

"GENTLEMEN, I fervently trust that before long the principles of arbitration may win such confidence as to justify its extension to a wider field of international differences. We have already seen how questions arousing passion and excitement have attained a solution, not necessarily by means of arbitration in the strict sense of the word, by referring them to such a tribunal as that which reported on the North Sea incident; and I would ask you whether, it may not be worth while carefully to consider, before the next Congress meets at The Hague, the various forms in which differences might be submitted, with a view to opening the door as wide as possible to every means which might in any degree contribute to moderate or compose such differences."

This amendment is in harmony with this suggestion. The resolution is in the form of a postscript to the treaty, but like the postscripts to some letters it contains a very vital subject—in fact, I am not sure but the postscript in this case is as important as the letter itself, for it deals with those questions which have defied arbitration. Certain questions affecting the honor or integrity of a nation are generally thought to be outside of the jurisdiction of a court of arbitration, and these are the questions which have given trouble. Passion is not often aroused by questions that do not affect a nation's integrity or honor, but for fear these questions may arise arbitration is not always employed where it might be. The first advantage, then, of this resolution is that it secures an investigation of the facts, and if you can but separate these facts from the question of honor, the chances are 100-to-1 that you can settle both the fact and the question of honor without war. There is, therefore, a great advantage in an investigation that brings out the facts, for disputed facts between nations, as between friends, are the cause of most disagreements.

The second advantage of this investigation is that it gives time for calm consideration. That has already been well presented by the gentlemen who has preceded me, Baron von Plener. I need not say to you that man excited is a very different animal from man calm, and that questions ought to be settled, not by passion, but by deliberation. If this resolution would do nothing else but give time for reflection and deliberation, there would be sufficient reason for its adoption. If we can but stay the hand of war until conscience can assert itself, war will be made more remote. When men are mad they swagger around and tell what they can do; when they are calm they consider what they ought to do.

The third advantage of this investigation is that it gives opportunity to mobilize public opinion of the compelling of a peaceful settlement and that is an advantage not to be overlooked. Public opinion is coming to be more and more a power in the world. One of the greatest statesmen of my country—Thomas Jefferson, and if it would not offend I would say I believe him to be the greatest statesman the world has produced—said that if he had to choose between a government without newspapers and newspapers without a government, he would rather risk the newspapers without a government. You may call it an extravagant statement, and yet it presents an idea, and that idea is that public opinion is a controlling force. I am glad that the time is coming when public opinion is to be more and more powerful; glad that the time is coming when the moral sentiment of one nation will influence the action of other nations; glad that the time is coming when the world will realize that a war between the two nations affects others than the nations involved; glad that the time is coming when the world will insist that nations settle their differences by some peaceful means. If time is given for the marshaling of the force of public opinion peace will be promoted. This resolution is presented, therefore, for the reasons that it gives an opportunity to investigate the facts, and to separate them from the question of honor, that it gives time for the calming of passion, and that it gives time for the formation of a controlling public sentiment.

I will not disguise the fact that I consider this resolution a long step in the direction of peace, nor will I disguise the fact that I am here because I want this Interparliamentary Union to take just as long a step as possible in the direction of universal peace. We meet in a famous hall, and looking down upon us from these walls are pictures that illustrate not only the glory that is to be won in war, but the horrors that follow war. There is a picture of one of the great figures in English history (pointing to the fresco by Maclise of the death of Nelson). Lord Nelson is represented as dying, and around him are the mangled forms of others. I understand that war brings out certain virtues. I am aware that it gives opportunity for the display of great patriotism; I am aware that the example of men who give their lives for their country is inspiring; but I venture to say there is as much inspiration in a noble life as there is in a heroic death, and I trust that one of the results of this Interparliamentary Union will be to emphasize the doctrine that a life devoted to the public, and ever flowing, like a spring, with good, exerts an influence upon the human race and upon the destiny of the world as great as any death in war. And if you will permit me to mention one whose career I watched with interest and whose name I revere, I will say that, in my humble judgment, the sixty-four years of spotless public service of William Ewart Gladstone will, in years to come, be regarded as rich an ornament to the history of this nation as the life of any man who poured out his blood upon a battlefield.

All movements in the interest of peace have back of them the idea of brotherhood. If peace is to come in this world, it will come because people more and more clearly recognize the indissoluble tie that binds each human being to every other. If we are to build permanent peace it must be on the foundation of the brotherhood of men. A poet has described how in the Civil War that divided our country into two hostile camps a generation ago—in one battle a soldier in one line thrust his bayonet through a soldier in the opposing line, and how, when he stooped to draw it out, he recognized in the face of the fallen one the face of his own brother. And then the poet describes the feeling of horror that overwhelmed the survivor when he realized that he had taken the life of one who was the child of the same parents and the companion of his boyhood. It was a pathetic story, but is it too much to hope that as years go by we will begin to understand that the whole human race is but a larger family?

It is not too much to hope that as years go by human sympathy will expand until this feeling of unity will not be confined to the members of a family or to the members of a clan or of a community or state, but shall be world-wide. It is not too much to hope that we, in this assembly, possibly by this resolution, may hasten the day when we shall feel so appalled at the thought of the taking of any human life that we shall strive to raise all questions to a level where the settlement will be by reason and not by force.



A PLEA FOR UNIVERSAL PEACE

The following extracts are from an address delivered by George W. Norris, United States senator from Nebraska, at Chautauquas and on lecture courses throughout the country for several years. It is one of the most logical and practical plans for universal peace ever proposed. It was prepared when the civilized world was at peace immediately following the peace treaty between Russia and Japan. David Starr Jordan declares that "military efficiency" is the principal cause of the present European war. A serious and honest study of how to preserve peace and how to avoid war cannot help but bring good results. This is the purpose of Senator Norris's lecture. For a further study of this most important subject, the reader is referred to Sumner's great oration on "The True Grandeur of Nations," to various speeches and monographs by Andrew Carnegie, and to numerous other publications, recently issued, regarding the patriotism of peace.

The greatest disgrace of the present century is that war between civilized nations is still a possibility. That such a barbarous condition should exist in the civilized world is painful to every lover of humanity and to every believer in the great brotherhood of man.

Every civilized country of the world requires its subjects to submit their differences and disputes to tribunals and courts that have been organized under the forms of law for their settlement and yet these same nations violate the principle of law which they compel their subjects to obey. The citizen must maintain his rights and settle his grievances before tribunals organized according to law, upon principles of justice and of right. Kings and rulers settle their disputes upon the field of battle without regard to right, without regard to justice, and upon the erroneous and barbarous theory that might makes right. It is to be regretted that the great advance that has been made from barbarism by the different nations of the world by which the disputes and controversies arising within each nation are settled according to forms of law upon the principles of justice and equality, has not extended to the settlement of disputes between the nations themselves. Why is it that rulers, who are able to settle all controversies within the countries they control are not able to settle controversies between those countries?

Humanity is broader than nationality and embraces within its scope the entire world. The measure of human happiness will not be full, the heights of national glory will not be reached until we can look over the world and in the words of the scripture, truthfully say of every citizen of every civilized nation—"Is he not after all, my brother?"

Why then should there be war? I know that it can truthfully be claimed that this cruel and heartless demon has settled many questions of world-wide importance, but it never settled one on any principle of equity, morality, or justice. In modern times its decree has been more often right than wrong, because the great spirit of public sentiment when once aroused has not only furnished money and men for the right, but it has thoroughly imbued the hearts of its soldiers with a determination and a bravery that have done much to place the victory where it properly belonged. But what a sacrifice of human life and treasure. I do not want to be understood as claiming that all the wars of history were wrong or could have been avoided. Some of them were carried on for liberty, some were waged for mercy and some were fought for humanity. The soldier, not only of our own land, but of other countries as well, is entitled to all the consideration and all the honor and glory that humanity can give or bestow. I am however proclaiming against the conditions existing in modern civilized times that make war not only sometimes necessary, but at any time possible.

But the question recurs again—what is a practical way to solve the difficulty? Who shall take the first step? Who can take the first step with the assurance that beneficial results will follow? What nation to-day occupies such a unique position in civilization that it can step out into the open and say to all the civilized world—"We are willing to submit to peaceful arbitration every international dispute, every international controversy not only of the present but of the future as well." What nation in assuming this position can command not only the respect and belief of other nations in the integrity and the honesty of its purpose, but can also receive the respect and approval of humanity's peace loving sentiment, that will go far towards impelling the balance of the civilized world to accept the proffered hand of universal brotherhood!

If we study the history of European nations, we will find a trace at least of jealousy between them that has come down from the days of barbarism. In ancient times the king, who was then supposed to possess, and is still suspicioned to have, some attributes of Divinity, ruled only over such territory as he was able to hold in subjection. He broke no law of nations if, without notice, cause or provocation, he made war upon his neighbor in an attempt to conquer and subdue additional territory. He violated no principle of government if in carrying out his purpose he resorted to trickery, chicanery, and dishonesty. The result was that every ruler was suspicious of every other ruler.

This suspiciousness and lack of confidence anciently existing between kings, and permeating the framework of every European nation, has, in a lessening and decreasing degree, come down to the present day. It exists now—unconsciously perhaps—but exists nevertheless, and must be taken into consideration whenever any European nation makes a proposition to other European nations for the settlement of any great international question. This condition was well paraphrased by a great European statesman in comparing European conditions with those of America, when he referred to it as American boldness and European suspiciousness.

In the new world where our government's leadership and controlling influence are recognized and acknowledged by all the world, these conditions do not obtain. Here the divine right of kings has never been recognized. We have not only disclaimed the right of conquest ourselves, but we have refused to recognize it in others. We have not only refused to recognize this right in the strong nation, but we have protected the weak nation against it. Moreover we have shown to the world our unselfish devotion to that principle to the extent of sacrificing life and treasure in the defense of the weak against the strong—the protection of the down-trodden and oppressed against oppression. Our entire national life has been emblematic of an unselfish respect for the rights of other nations, and is not tainted with that suspiciousness which has come down to others from ancient times. Our position among the nations of the world was well illustrated by what happened in the war between Russia and Japan.

When these two great nations had gotten each other by the throat and were struggling in mortal combat, the entire world was aroused to admiration by the action of America's great president. Neither one of the warring nations had expressed any desire for peace. Neither one had shown any disposition to cease the conflict. Neither one had asked for any intercession, and yet in the midst of the bloody conflict, when America's voice was heard, they both halted, they both ceased, and they both obeyed.

It was because they knew—all the world knew—that in the voice which called them from the battlefield to reason's court there was no taint of selfishness; that in that call there was no suspicion of an ulterior or dishonorable motive, but that in the heart of the great statesman, whose voice they heeded, there was only the purity of a humane effort to bring about the welfare of all. From the very nature of the development of other nations from the barbarism of ancient times it is quite apparent that no other ruler of the civilized world could have made that proposition with the same successful results. In response to the friendly intervention of the American Government, Russia and Japan appointed commissioners to agree upon terms of peace.

While these commissioners were in session on American soil, a notable assemblage for the advancement of international arbitration was in session at Brussels, the capital of Belgium. At this meeting of the Interparliamentary Union there were representatives from practically every civilized country in the world except Russia and Japan. We watched with hopeful anxiety the reports which the cable brought us of the progress that was being made by these peace commissioners at Portsmouth. In that assemblage, composed of representatives from two continents, there was a unanimous wish, a united hope, a fervent prayer that America's intervention would prove successful.

As a fitting close of that great international conference the representatives of Belgium invited all the delegates to a reception held in that historic building where the cohorts of Napoleon were assembled in revelry on the eve of Waterloo. The rooms were decorated with the colors of all nations. The finest band of Belgium was playing her national air. In the midst of it the music suddenly ceased. All eyes were turned to the rostrum. We saw the leader of the band seize from the decorations of the hall the American flag, and using it as a baton, he waved it over the heads of the musicians, and in answer to his action there burst forth the rapturous strains of "The Star Spangled Banner."

For a moment, and a moment only, there was silence, and then there burst forth a roar of applause which clearly indicated that everyone there understood, that beneath the fathomless deep the electric spark had brought the welcome news that on the shores of America an agreement for peace had been signed. On the occasion of nearly one hundred years before the revelry was interrupted by the booming of cannon, but on this occasion it was the joyous message that under the leadership of America the peace of the world had been established. That was an occasion, my countrymen, when it was greater to be an American citizen than to wear a crown.

Heretofore one of the greatest obstacles to the peaceful settlement of international difficulties, and to the submission of such controversies to arbitration, has been that the offense has been committed, or the controversy has arisen before any rule for its settlement has been provided, or any tribunal for its determination has been selected. This ex post facto machinery for the settlement of differences is not only unreasonable and illogical, but it has been guarded against by all the civilized nations of the earth in the regulation and management of their own internal affairs. When disagreeing nations are aroused to anger by the excitement and the prejudice of the people on account of real or imaginary wrong, it is a poor time indeed to attempt to agree upon a fair method of settlement, or to exercise that calm deliberation which should be invoked in the selection of the arbitrators.

The treaty of arbitration should be general and apply to all disputes. It should be negotiated in time of profound peace, and not with reference to any particular controversy. Its judges should be selected in time of peace and their terms of office should be permanent. In order that they might be removed from, and uninfluenced by, any bias or prejudice they should be appointed for life, and while holding this great international commission they should be prohibited from accepting or holding any other office or emolument from any government.

The treaty, however, should specifically provide that these international judges could be appointed and selected as members of any other international arbitration tribunal, and in accordance with this provision each government would undoubtedly select the same men as judges for each arbitration treaty into which it entered.

To illustrate—if our government entered into such a treaty with the German Empire, and afterwards into a similar treaty with France, we would select the same arbitrators under the treaty with France that we had named in carrying out the provisions of the treaty with Germany, and in any subsequent arbitration treaty with any other nation, the same men would again be named as our arbitrators. There is little doubt but what all other nations would pursue a similar course.

This would give us an international court that would command the absolute respect of all mankind and the confidence of all civilization. Its judges would be free from any bias, prejudice or excitement that might exist in either one or both of the contending nations. Instead of representing one government as against the other they would in fact, without partiality and with equal justice, represent both of the contending parties. Their life work would be the study of international questions. They would become learned—yea, experts—in international law and the administration of international justice. If each nation selected the same judges in each of its arbitration treaties, the world would have a list—a school—of international jurists devoting their time, their energies and their lives to the study of international questions and the settlement of international disputes. In the hands of these men the peace of the civilized world would be safe and secure.

The treaty of arbitration would undoubtedly provide for an equal number of arbitrators from each of the contracting parties. It likewise would, and undoubtedly should, provide for the selection of additional members of the court in cases where the judges were equally divided on any question submitted to them. A wise provision would be to let the permanent judges themselves select the additional arbitrators, and with this list of great international jurists from which to make a choice, how small the possibility of error, and how great would be the probability of a wise selection. As a matter of fact it would seldom be necessary for this provision of the treaty to be acted on. Not once in a lifetime would the members of such a court be divided along the lines of nationality. The judges of this court, occupying this dignified, exalted and unparalleled position before the world, would be farther removed from bias and prejudice than any court that has ever been instituted in the history of mankind. Its decisions would become precedents for future action. It would not be long until we would have a line of decisions, that would eliminate the uncertainty of international law which has existed in the past. A question once determined by this great court would be accepted by the world as the law for the future, and the result would be that we would not only have an international tribunal for the peaceful settlement and determination of all international questions, but their decisions would become the beacon lights of peace for future generations, whose rays of wisdom and of reason would light up the dark waters of international jurisprudence, mark out the course of safety for every ship of state, and warn her mariners of the shoals of disaster.

There is no ground whatever for the belief which prevails somewhat that the members of such a court would always follow the contention of their own country. Even under the present cumbersome and illogical method of selecting arbitrators we have a recent illustration that men great enough to fill positions of this kind, realizing the dignity and responsibility of the position, will rise above the clamor of their own countrymen and decide the question at issue upon its merits. I refer to the Alaskan boundary dispute between the United States and Great Britain. We have also an illustration of this point in our own country.

Our national government is composed of sovereign states. State pride is an attribute of practically all our citizens. Its influence has compelled men to honestly do all kinds of unreasonable things. For it men have given up their property and sacrificed their lives. Yet this prejudice has never reached our judiciary. Every United States judge is a citizen of some state. They try cases between different states, pass on disputes existing between a sovereign state and the citizens of another state, and settle controversies arising between the citizens of one state and the citizens of another state. Our judges have been criticized on nearly all possible grounds, often no doubt without reason, sometimes perhaps with good cause, but in the entire history of our country, there has never yet been made the charge that any one of these judges has been influenced in his official conduct by pride of his native or adopted state. Man is often unconsciously influenced and controlled by his associations, his habits and the environments of earlier life. Their influence has become a part of the man. But the history of jurisprudence will show that judges have seldom, if ever, been moved or influenced in official action by the excitement, the clamor or the prejudice of the citizenship if it was beyond the power of that citizenship to reward or punish.

It is unnecessary to provide any method for the enforcement of the decrees of an international court. It is safe to trust to the honor of the governments interested, and to the enlightened public sentiment of the civilized world for the honest enforcement in good faith of every such judgment and decree. This has been frequently demonstrated in the past. In all the history of the world there has never been an instance where an offending nation has failed to carry out in good faith the judgment of an international court.

In America the friends of international arbitration are not united as they should be. The division comes about principally on account of a disagreement as to what should be the size of our navy. There are some who believe that we should make but a small annual increase in our navy, and some of these are inclined to criticize those who advocate a large navy and to claim that such conduct is inconsistent with international arbitration. While I have been one of those who usually have favored a small yearly increase in our naval vessels, yet I am frank to admit that under present conditions, there is much sound logic in the argument that the greatest and best assurance of international peace, is to be always prepared for war. It is well too, to remember that an unbiased and unprejudiced tribunal in a foreign land has recently given an international trophy—the world's prize—to the greatest American exponent of a large navy, for having during the year for which the prize was given, accomplished more for international peace, than any other living man. It is not my intention to discuss this subject. It is not necessary to decide it for the purposes of the present discussion. It is of importance when considering the subject of national defense and national finances, but it has no decisive influence upon the question of international arbitration. The man who favors a small navy, and the man who favors a large one can consistently work side by side for the advancement of international peace. The size of the navy that we should maintain is a question upon which the minds of wise and patriotic men may honestly differ. Everybody admits that we should keep and maintain an ample and sufficient navy, and that annual additions thereto are necessary to maintain its efficiency. But, the terms "adequate navy," "sufficient navy" and "large navy" are very indefinite, and convey entirely different ideas to different people. What one man might regard as a small navy, another one equally as wise would regard as entirely too large. What one person would consider a small and inadequate annual addition to our navy, others, equally as patriotic, would regard as unreasonable and extravagant. A man's ideas on this disputed and unsettled question can not consistently be urged against the sincerity of his purpose when he advocates international arbitration.

But while the friends of international arbitration may honestly disagree as to the strength of the army and the size of the navy that should be maintained in times of peace, there is no disagreement in the condemnation of the conditions which make it necessary to maintain a large army and navy. These conditions are relics of barbarism. They are not founded upon any wisdom, reason, or justice. They exist only because the great men of to-day, who hold the destinies of nations in their hands have not met upon the broad plane of equality and agreed upon their abolishment.

Heretofore the cry of international arbitration has come mainly from those who were moved by the idea of philanthropy, of mercy and of humanity. It will not be long until these influences will be joined by all the commercial interests of civilization and all the tax-payers of the world. For the fiscal year (1907) in our own country there was appropriated from the national treasury nearly four hundred millions of dollars on account of war. Over sixty-five per cent. of the revenues of our national government are spent on account of our wars of the past, or in preparation for war in the future. Every time our government raises a dollar by taxation more than sixty-five cents of it is demanded as a tribute by this blood thirsty demon.

Our situation is only a fair illustration of what exists everywhere in the world. In round numbers about one-half of the money raised by taxation in the leading civilized nations of the world is spent, either in the payment of obligations of past wars, or in the preparation for war in the future. The expense of this preparation is increasing at a wonderful rate. Our government expends about the same amount of money as the other leading nations of the world in the preparation for war in the future, but for the expenses of wars that are past it expends more than all the other nations combined. The expenses of our past wars, consisting chiefly and mainly of pensions, are just, and no one would cut them down, excepting as they will be curtailed by the hand of Time as he gathers into his fold our heroes of the past. We will therefore eliminate the past from the financial consideration of the question. During a single year of peace, Great Britain, Germany, France, and the United States spent nearly one billion of dollars in making preparation for war. All the money in the United States would only pay this enormous expense for a little more than two years. The people of these highly civilized countries, while in profound peace, were taxing themselves to death, in order that the survivors might kill each other according to the most modern methods of modern warfare with the most modern weapons of human destruction.

As startling and astounding as these figures are, they do not tell one half of the story. Human life cannot be measured in dollars and cents; broken hearts cannot be healed by the appropriation of money; human suffering and misery cannot be alleviated by financial consideration, and humanity stands helpless in the face of death and destruction. At the fireside of practically every home in Christendom, there is a vacant chair, made so by war. For every vacant chair there was a ruined hearthstone; for every hearthstone there was a sorrowing widow; and for every widow there is a fatherless child. For every penny spent for war there is a sigh of grief; for every shilling there is a tear of sorrow; and for every dollar there is a broken heart. The amount expended on this account in the civilized world, in one year would give shelter to every pauper, a home to every unfortunate, and an education to every child. At the present rate of increasing expense it will not be long until this great chain will break of its own weight; until every nation will become bankrupt and every tax-payer will become a pauper. As this time approaches, the forces of international peace will become more numerous and more powerful. Humanity will shake off the shackles of barbarism and defy the God of War upon his throne. In this battle of reason, that tyrant of oppression, that ruler of ignorance, that demon of superstition, in whose decree there is no mercy, in whose judgment there is no justice, will be driven from his throne, and relegated beyond the portals of a universal peace, to be remembered only as a horrible nightmare of an unholy and an unrighteous past.



LINCOLN'S GETTYSBURG ADDRESS

Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure.

We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as the final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it far above our power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here; but it can never forget what they did here.

It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us, that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they here gave the last full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not perish from the earth.



PRESIDENT WILSON'S NEUTRALITY PROCLAMATION

This proclamation is in strict keeping with Washington's counsel. It is one of the greatest of President Wilson's state papers and probably did more than any one act of his administration in keeping the United States from becoming involved in the European war.

MY FELLOW COUNTRYMEN:—I suppose that every thoughtful man in America has asked himself, during these last troubled weeks, what influence the European war may exert upon the United States, and I take the liberty of addressing a few words to you in order to point out that it is entirely within our own choice what its effects upon us will be and to urge very earnestly upon you the sort of speech and conduct which will best safeguard the Nation against distress and disaster.

The effect of the war upon the United States will depend upon what American citizens say and do. Every man who really loves America will act and speak in the true spirit of neutrality, which is the spirit of impartiality and fairness and friendliness to all concerned. The spirit of the Nation in this critical matter will be determined largely by what individuals and society and those gathered in public meetings do and say, upon what newspapers and magazines contain, upon what ministers utter in their pulpits, and men proclaim as their opinions on the street.

The people of the United States are drawn from many nations, and chiefly from the nations now at war. It is natural and inevitable that there should be the utmost variety of sympathy and desire among them with regard to the issues and circumstances of the conflict. Some will wish one nation, others another, to succeed in the momentous struggle. It will be easy to excite passion and difficult to allay it. Those responsible for exciting it will assume a heavy responsibility, responsibility for no less a thing than that the people of the United States, whose love of their country and whose loyalty to its government should unite them as Americans all, bound in honor and affection to think first of her and her interests, may be divided in camps of hostile opinion, hot against each other, involved in the war itself in impulse and opinion if not in action.

Such divisions among us would be fatal to our peace of mind and might seriously stand in the way of the proper performance of our duty as the one great nation at peace, the one people holding itself ready to play a part of impartial mediation and speak the counsels of peace and accommodation, not as a partisan, but as a friend.

I venture, therefore, my fellow countrymen, to speak a solemn word of warning to you against that deepest, most subtle, most essential breach of neutrality which may spring out of partisanship, out of passionately taking sides. The United States must be neutral in fact as well as in name during these days that are to try men's souls. We must be impartial in thought as well as in action, must put a curb upon our sentiments as well as upon every transaction that might be construed as a preference of one party to the struggle before another.

My thought is of America. I am speaking, I feel sure, the earnest wish and purpose of every thoughtful American that this great country of ours, which is, of course, the first in our thoughts and in our hearts, should show herself in this time of peculiar trial a Nation fit beyond others to exhibit the fine poise of undisturbed judgment, the dignity of self-control, the efficiency of dispassionate action; a Nation that neither sits in judgment upon others nor is disturbed in her own counsels and which keeps herself fit and free to do what is honest and disinterested and truly serviceable for the peace of the world.

Shall we not resolve to put upon ourselves the restraints which will bring to our people the happiness and the great and lasting influence for peace we covet for them?

August 18, 1914.

Footnotes:

[1] From the poem entitled "Wanted," by J. G. Holland.

[2] Edward Brooks.

[3] From "White Bees and Other Poems," by Henry van Dyke, copyright, 1909, by Charles Scribner's Sons. By permission of Charles Scribner's Sons, publishers.

[4] This lecture is found in full in Vol. XII (1915 Edition) of "Beacon Lights of History," copyright 1902 by the publishers, Fords, Howard & Hulbert, and is here used by special permission of Dr. Andrews and his publishers.

[5] William McKinley.

[6] But one of these incidents is given in this extract.

[7] Henry Ward Beecher.

[8] John P. Newman.



POETRY OF PATRIOTISM



CONCORD HYMN[1]

By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world.

The foe long since in silence slept; Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; And Time the ruined bridge has swept Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream, We set to-day a votive stone; That memory may their dead redeem, When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

Spirit, that made those heroes dare To die, and leave their children free, Bid Time and Nature gently spare The shaft we raise to them and thee.



WARREN'S ADDRESS

Stand! the ground's your own, my braves! Will ye give it up to slaves? Will ye look for greener graves? Hope ye mercy still? What's the mercy despots feel? Hear it in that battle peal! Read it on yon bristling steel! Ask it—ye who will.

Fear ye foes who kill for hire? Will ye to your homes retire? Look behind you!—they're afire! And, before you, see Who have done it! From the vale On they come!—and will ye quail? Leaden rain and iron hail Let their welcome be!

In the God of battles trust! Die we may—and die we must; But, oh, where can dust to dust Be consigned so well, As where heaven its dews shall shed On the martyred patriot's bed, And the rocks shall raise their head, Of his deeds to tell?

John Pierpont



PATRIOTISM

Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand! If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentered all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.

Sir Walter Scott



THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER

Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming, Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming? And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there: Oh, say, does that Star-Spangled Banner yet wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On that shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses! Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, In full glory reflected now shines on the stream: 'Tis the Star-Spangled Banner, Oh, long may it wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion A home and a country should leave us no more! Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution; No refuge should save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave: And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

Oh, thus be it ever when freemen shall stand Between their loved homes and war's desolation. Blest with victory and peace, may the Heaven-rescued land Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation. Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, And this be our motto, "In God is our trust": And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

Francis Scott Key



MY COUNTRY

My country, 'tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty, Of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, Land of the pilgrims' pride, From every mountain side Let freedom ring!

My native country! Thee— Land of the noble free,— Thy name I love; I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills; My heart with rapture thrills Like that above.

Let music swell the breeze, And ring from all the trees Sweet freedom's song. Let mortal tongues awake; Let all that breathe partake; Let rocks their silence break,— The sound prolong.

Our fathers' God, to Thee, Author of liberty, To Thee we sing; Long may our land be bright With freedom's holy light; Protect us by Thy might, Great God, our King!

Samuel F. Smith



THE AMERICAN FLAG

When Freedom, from her mountain height, Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there. She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies, And striped its pure celestial white With streakings of the morning light.

Then, from his mansion in the sun, She called her eagle bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand The symbol of her chosen land. Flag of the free heart's hope and home, By angel hands to valor given! Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven.

Forever float that standard sheet! Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us!

Joseph Rodman Drake



SONG OF MARION'S MEN

Our band is few but true and tried, Our leader frank and bold; The British soldier trembles When Marion's name is told. Our fortress is the good greenwood, Our tent the cypress tree; We know the forest round us, As seamen know the sea. We know its walls of thorny vines, Its glades of reedy grass, Its safe and silent islands Within the dark morass.

Woe to the English soldiery That little dread us near! On them shall light at midnight A strange and sudden fear When, waking to their tents on fire, They grasp their arms in vain, And they who stand to face us Are beat to earth again; And they who fly in terror deem A mighty host behind, And hear the tramp of thousands Upon the hollow wind.

Then sweet the hour that brings release From danger and from toil: We talk the battle over, And share the battle's spoil. The woodland rings with laugh and shout, As if a hunt were up, And woodland flowers are gathered To crown the soldier's cup. With merry songs we mock the wind That in the pine-top grieves, And slumber long and sweetly On beds of oaken leaves.

Well knows the fair and friendly moon The band that Marion leads— The glitter of their rifles, The scampering of their steeds. 'Tis life to guide the fiery barb Across the moonlight plain; 'Tis life to feel the night wind That lifts his tossing mane. A moment in the British camp— A moment—and away, Back to the pathless forest, Before the peep of day.

Grave men there are by broad Santee, Grave men with hoary hairs; Their hearts are all with Marion, For Marion are their prayers. And lovely ladies greet our band, With kindliest welcoming, With smiles like those of summer, And tears like those of spring. For them we wear these trusty arms, And lay them down no more Till we have driven the Briton, Forever from our shore.

William Cullen Bryant



THE OLD CONTINENTALS

In their ragged regimentals Stood the old Continentals, Yielding not, When the grenadiers were lunging, And like hail fell the plunging Cannon shot; When the files Of the isles, From the smoky night encampment, bore the banner of the rampant Unicorn; And grummer, grummer, grummer, rolled the roll of the drummer Through the morn!

Then with eyes to the front all, And with guns horizontal, Stood our sires; And the balls whistled deadly, And in streams flashing redly, Blazed the fires: As the roar On the shore Swept the strong battle breakers o'er the green-sodded acres Of the plain; And louder, louder, louder, cracked the black gunpowder, Cracking amain!

Now like smiths at their forges Worked the red St. George's Cannoneers, And the villainous saltpetre Rung a fierce, discordant meter Round their ears; As the swift Storm drift, With hot sweeping anger, came the horseguards' clangor On our flanks; Then higher, higher, higher, burned the old-fashioned fire Through the ranks!

Then the bareheaded colonel Galloped through the white infernal Powder cloud; And his broadsword was swinging, And his brazen throat was ringing Trumpet-loud; Then the blue Bullets flew, And the trooper jackets redden at the touch of the leaden Rifle breath; And rounder, rounder, rounder, roared the iron six-pounder, Hurling death!

Guy Humphreys McMaster



THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL

He lay upon his dying bed; His eye was growing dim, When with a feeble voice he called His weeping son to him: "Weep not, my boy!" the vet'ran said, "I bow to Heaven's high will— But quickly from yon antlers bring The sword of Bunker Hill."

The sword was brought, the soldier's eye Lit with a sudden flame; And as he grasped the ancient blade, He murmured Warren's name; Then said, "My boy, I leave you gold— But what is richer still, I leave you, mark me, mark me now— The sword of Bunker Hill.

"'Twas on that dread, immortal day, I dared the Briton's band, A captain raised this blade on me— I tore it from his hand: And while the glorious battle raged, It lightened freedom's will— For, boy, the God of freedom blessed The sword of Bunker Hill.

"Oh, keep the sword!"—his accents broke— A smile—and he was dead— But his wrinkled hand still grasped the blade Upon that dying bed. The son remains; the sword remains— Its glory growing still— And twenty millions bless the sire, And sword of Bunker Hill.

William Ross Wallace



LIBERTY TREE[2]

In a chariot of light from the regions of day, The Goddess of Liberty came; Ten thousand celestials directed the way, And hither conducted the dame. A fair budding branch from the gardens above, Where millions with millions agree, She brought in her hand as a pledge of her love, And the plant she named Liberty Tree.

The celestial exotic struck deep in the ground, Like a native it flourished and bore; The fame of its fruit drew the nation's around, To seek out this peaceable shore. Unmindful of names or distinctions they came, For freemen like brothers agree; With one spirit endued, they one friendship pursued, And their temple was Liberty Tree.

Beneath this fair tree, like the patriarchs of old, Their bread in contentment they ate Unvexed with the troubles of silver and gold, The cares of the grand and the great. With timber and tar they Old England supplied, And supported her power on the sea; Her battles they fought, without getting a groat, For the honor of Liberty Tree.

But hear, O ye swains, 'tis a tale most profane, How all the tyrannical powers, Kings, Commons and Lords, are uniting amain, To cut down this guardian of ours; From the east to the west blow the trumpet to arms, Through the land let the sound of it flee, Let the far and the near, all unite with a cheer, In defense of our Liberty Tree.

Thomas Paine



THE RISING IN 1776.[3]

Out of the North the wild news came, Far flashing on its wings of flame, Swift as the boreal light which flies At midnight through the startled skies. And there was tumult in the air, The fife's shrill note, the drum's loud beat, And through the wide land everywhere The answering tread of hurrying feet; While the first oath of Freedom's gun, Came on the blast from Lexington; And Concord, roused, no longer tame, Forgot her old baptismal name, Made bare her patriot arm of power, And swelled the discord of the hour.

Within its shade of elm and oak The church of Berkeley Manor stood; There Sunday found the rural folk, And some esteemed of gentle blood. In vain their feet with loitering tread Passed 'mid the graves where rank is naught; All could not read the lesson taught In that republic of the dead.

How sweet the hour of Sabbath talk, The vale with peace and sunshine full Where all the happy people walk, Decked in their homespun flax and wool! Where youth's gay hats with blossoms bloom; And every maid with simple art, Wears on her breast, like her own heart, A bud whose depths are all perfume; While every garment's gentle stir Is breathing rose and lavender.

The pastor came; his snowy locks Hallowed his brow of thought and care; And calmly, as shepherds lead their flocks, He led into the house of prayer. The pastor rose; the prayer was strong; The psalm was warrior David's song; The text, a few short words of might— "The Lord of hosts shall arm the right!"

He spoke of wrongs too long endured, Of sacred rights to be secured; Then from his patriot tongue of flame The startling words for Freedom came. The stirring sentences he spake Compelled the heart to glow or quake, And, rising on his theme's broad wing, And grasping in his nervous hand The imaginary battle brand, In face of death he dared to fling Defiance to a tyrant king.