there was any statesmanship, any good sense, in making the war of 1812 at all. It is true that it was resolved upon without preparation, and that it was wretchedly managed. But if war is ever justified, there was ample provocation for it. The legitimate interests of the United States had been trampled upon by the belligerent powers, as if entitled to no respect. The American flag had been treated with a contempt scarcely conceivable now. The question was whether the American people should permit themselves not only to be robbed, and maltreated, and insulted, but also to be despised, — all this for the privilege of picking up the poor crumbs of trade which the great powers of Europe would still let them have. When a nation knowingly and willingly accepts the contempt of others, it is in danger of losing also its respect for itself. Against this the national pride of Young America rose in revolt. When insulted too grievously, it felt an irresistible impulse to strike. It struck wildly, to be sure, and received ugly blows in return. But it proved, after all, that this young democracy could not be trampled upon with impunity, that it felt an insult as keenly as older nations, and that it was capable of risking a fight with the most formidable power on earth in resenting it. It proved, too, that this most formidable power might find in the young democracy a very uncomfortable antagonist.
If the warlike impulse in this case was mere sentiment, as has been said, it was a statesmanlike
