would soften piratical Turks.  Mr. Madison’s despatch to O’Brien on the subject is written in this spirit.  “The sending to Constantinople the national ship-of-war, the George Washington, by force, under the Algerine flag, and for such a purpose, has deeply affected the sensibility, not only of the President, but of the people of the United States.  Whatever temporary effects it may have had favorable to our interest, the indignity is of so serious a nature, that it is not impossible that it may be deemed necessary, on a fit occasion, to revive the question. Viewing it in this light, the President wishes that nothing may be said or done by you that may unnecessarily preclude the competent authority from animadverting on that transaction in any way that a vindication of the national honor may be thought to prescribe.”

Times have changed since then, and our national spirit with them.  The Secretary’s Quaker-like protest offers a ludicrous contrast to the wolf-to-lamb swagger of our modern diplomacy.  What faithful Democrat of 1801 would have believed that the day would come of the Kostza affair, of the African right-of-search quarrel, the Greytown bombardment, and the seizure of Miramon’s steamers?

It is clear that our President and people were in no danger of being led into acts of undue violence by “deeply affected sensibility” or the “vindication of the national honor,” when a violent blow aimed by the Pacha of Tripoli at their Mediterranean trade roused them to a show of self-defence.  Early in May he declared war against the United States, although Consul Cathcart offered him ten thousand dollars to leave the American flag-staff up for a short time longer.  Even then, if Mr. Jefferson could have consulted no one but himself, not a ship would have sailed from these shores.  But the merchants were too powerful for him; they insisted upon protection in the Mediterranean.  A squadron of three frigates and a sloop under Commodore Dale was fitted out and despatched to Gibraltar; and the nations of the earth were duly notified by our diplomatic agents of our intentions, that they might not be alarmed by this armada.

In June of this year a fire broke out in the palace at Tunis, and fifty thousand stand of arms were destroyed.  The Bey sent for Eaton; he had apportioned his loss among his friends, and it fell to the United States to furnish ten thousand stand without delay.

“It is only the other day,” said Eaton, “that you asked for eighty twenty-four pounders.  At this rate, when are our payments to have an end?”

“Never,” was the answer.  “The claims we make are such as we receive from all friendly nations, every two or three years; and you, like other Christians, will be obliged to conform to it.”

Eaton refused to state the claim to his Government.  The Bey said, Very well, he would write himself; and threatened to turn Eaton out of the Regency.

At this juncture Commodore Dale arrived at Gibraltar.  The Bey paid us the compliment of believing that he had not been sent so far for nothing, and allowed Eaton a few months’ respite.