change was so wonderful, so rapid, so contrary to universal history, that many fail to see that all has been done in the logical sequence of principles, which are the highest testimony to the wisdom of our fathers, and the best illustration of the correctness of those principles. This Government is a child of law instead of sedition, of right instead of violence, of deliberation instead of insurrection. Its early life was attended by no anarchy, no rebellion, no suspension of authority, no social disorders, no lawless disturbances. Sovereignty was not for one moment in abeyance. The utmost conservatism marked every proceeding and public act. The object was "to do what was necessary and no more; and to do that with the utmost temperance and prudence." St. Just, in his report to the Convention of France, in 1793, said: "A people has but one dangerous enemy, and that is Government." We adopted no such absurdity. In nearly every instance the first steps were taken legally, in accordance with the will and prescribed direction of the constituted authorities of the seceding States. We were not remitted to brute force or natural law, or the instincts of reason. The charters of freedom were scrupulously preserved. As in the English revolution of 1688, and ours of 1776, there was no material alteration in the laws, beyond what was necessary to redress the abuses that provoked the struggle. No attempt was made to build on speculative principles. The effort was confined within the narrowest limits of historical and constitutional right. The controversy turned on the records and muniments of the past. We merely resisted innovation and tyranny, and contended for our birthrights and the covenanted principles of our race. We have had our governors, general assemblies and courts; the same electors, the same corporations, "the same rules for property, the same subordinations, the same order in the law and in the magistracy." When the sovereign States met in council, they in truth and substance, and in a constitutional light, did not make but prevented a revolution.
Commencing our new national life under such circumstances, we had a right to expect that we would be permitted, without molestation, to cultivate the arts of peace, and vindicate, on our chosen arena and with the selected type of social characteristics, our claims to civilization. It was thought, too, by many, that war would not be resorted to by an enlightened country, except on the direst necessity. That a people, professing to be animated by Christian sentiment, and who had regarded our peculiar institution as a blot and blur upon the fair escutcheon of their common Christianity, should
