of that word “power on earth?” The meaning of it is, to have not only the power to guard your own particular interests, but also to have a vote in the regulation of the common interests of humanity, of which you are an independent member—­in a word, to become a tribunal enforcing the law of nations, precisely as your supreme court maintains your own constitution and laws.  And, indeed, all argument of statesmanship, all philosophy of history, would be vain, if I were mistaken that your great nation is arrived at this unavoidable period of life.

The instinct of the people is in the life of a nation precisely that which conscience is in the life of man.  Before we, in our private life, arrive at a clear conviction what course we have to adopt in this or that occurrence, the conscience—­that inexplicable spirit in our breast—­tells us in a pulsation of our heart what is right or what is wrong.  And this first pulsation of conscience is very trustworthy.  Then comes the reflective operation of the mind:  it now and then lulls conscience to sleep, now and then modifies particulars, and now and then raises it to the degree of conviction.  But conscience was in advance of the mind.  So is the instinct of the people—­the conscience of nations.  Nor needs the highest intellectual power of individuality to feel offended at the idea that the instinct of the people is always the first to feel the right and wrong.  It is the pulsation of the heart of the nation; it is the advertisement of conscience, which never heaves without reason, without necessity.

Indeed, gentlemen, it is not my presence here which elicited that majestic interest for national law and international rights.  Nay, I had not been here, but for the pre-existence of this interest.  It raised glorious interpreters during the struggles of Greece, when, indeed, I was yet too young to be in public life.  It flashed up, kindled by Poland’s heroic struggles, and it blazed high and broad when we were fighting the sacred battle of independence for the European continent.  Had this interest and sympathy not existed long ago, I were not now here.  My very freedom is the result of it.

And may I be permitted to mention that there were several concerns quite unconnected with the cause of Hungary, which have much contributed to direct public opinion to feel interested in the question of foreign policy, so naturally connected with the question, What is international law?

Your relations with Mexico and Central America; the threatened intervention of European powers in the possible issue of a recent case which brought so much mourning into many families in the United States; the question about the Sandwich Islands, which European diplomacy appeared to contemplate as an appropriate barrier between your Pacific States and the Indian and Chinese trade; the sad fate of an American citizen now condemned to the galleys in Africa; and several other considerations of pressing concern, must necessarily have contributed to excite the interest of public opinion for the settlement of the question, What is and what shall be law amongst nations?—­law not dictated by the whims of ambitious despots, but founded upon everlasting principles, such as republics can acknowledge who themselves live upon principles.