But the second, and, if possible, the still more objectionable principle, avowed in these papers, is the right of forcible interference in the affairs of other states.  A right to control nations in their desire to change their own government, wherever it maybe conjectured, or pretended, that such change might furnish an example to the subjects of other states, is plainly and distinctly asserted.  The same Congress that made the declaration at Laybach had declared, before its removal from Troppau, “that the powers have an undoubted right to take a hostile attitude in regard to those states in which the overthrow of the government may operate as an example.”

There cannot, as I think, be conceived a more flagrant violation of public law, or national independence, than is contained in this short declaration.

No matter what be the character of the government resisted; no matter with what weight the foot of the oppressor bears on the neck of the oppressed; if he struggle, or if he complain, he sets a dangerous example of resistance,—­and from that moment he becomes an object of hostility to the most powerful potentates of the earth.  I want words to express my abhorrence of this abominable principle.  I trust every enlightened man throughout the world will oppose it, and that, especially, those who, like ourselves, are fortunately out of the reach of the bayonets that enforce it, will proclaim their detestation of it, in a tone both loud and decisive.  The avowed object of such declarations is to preserve the peace of the world.  But by what means is it proposed to preserve this peace?  Simply, by bringing the power of all governments to bear against all subjects.  Here is to be established a sort of double, or treble, or quadruple, or, for aught I know, quintuple allegiance.  An offence against one king is to be an offence against all kings, and the power of all is to be put forth for the punishment of the offender.  A right to interfere in extreme cases, in the case of contiguous states, and where imminent danger is threatened to one by what is occurring in another, is not without precedent in modern times, upon what has been called the law of vicinage; and when confined to extreme cases, and limited to a certain extent, it may perhaps be defended upon principles of necessity and self-defence.  But to maintain that sovereigns may go to war upon the subjects of another state to repress an example, is monstrous indeed.  What is to be the limit to such a principle, or to the practice growing out of it?  What, in any case, but sovereign pleasure, is to decide whether the example be good or bad?  And what, under the operation of such a rule, may be thought of our example?  Why are we not as fair objects for the operation of the new principle, as any of those who may attempt a reform of government on the other side of the Atlantic?