ment that the time for “conciliation, moderation, reasoning, was over,” and that the first campaign should be opened by the presence of twenty thousand men. This was wise advice, because it was such advice as a wise man would have given under the circumstances. It was, however, a fortunate blunder in the English Government that they rejected it. They held Boston with the army they sent, and with a larger army they could have done nothing more. They might have made more frequent and more sanguinary forays into the country, but the result of the campaign would have been the same. It was neither possible nor politic for the Americans in the Revolution to assemble large bodies of troops; therefore, the presence of twenty, or even fifty, thousand men, would not have been a matter of great importance to the colonies.
England held us in 1775, as she holds many of her provinces now—by their own consent, but not otherwise. That consent can be perpetual only by the recognition of the principles of freedom and equality. The cause of liberty raises up friends and advocates everywhere. None of its martyrs ever die unwept, unhonored or unsung. The human heart has never been truer to any principle than to that of liberty. It is not in America alone that the cause of freedom excites sympathy and enlists support. Its voice is as potential, its victories as grateful elsewhere as with us. And when its banner is borne down and trampled in the dust, it is not in America alone that true hearts sympathize and bleed. There are noble men in England, France, Germany, Italy, and Hungary, upon whom the blow falls, as upon the first victims of slavery. But in the wisdom of God, the nation that is not just shall stand finally
“Childless and crownless in her voiceless woe,
An empty urn within her withered hands.”
And thus shall it be with Austria. With the judgment of the civilized world against her, with her people disaffected and
