It is, by the pointed confession of Southern spokesmen, what we are, rather than what we have done, which makes them Secessionists; and any man of sense might, indeed must, see this fact, were the confession withheld.  In action we have conformed to Southern wishes, as if conformity could not be in excess.  We have conformed to an extent that—­to mention nothing of more importance—­had nearly ruined us in the estimation of mankind.  One chief reason, indeed, why the sympathy of Europe did not immediately go with us was that a disgust toward us had been created by the football passivity, as it seemed abroad, with which we had submitted to be kicked to and fro.  The rebellion was deemed to be on our side, not on theirs.  We, born servitors and underlings, it was thought, had forgotten our proper places,—­nay, had presumed to strike back, when our masters chastised us.  Of course, we should soon be whipped to our knees again.  And when we were again submissive and abject, Europe must so have demeaned itself as still to be on good terms with the conquerors.  As for us, our final opinion of their demeanor, so they deemed, mattered very little.  The ill opinion of the servants can be borne; but one must needs be on friendly terms with the master of the house.  The conduct of Europe toward us at the outbreak of this war is to be thus explained, more than in any other way.  According to European understanding, we had before written ourselves down menials; therefore, on rising to the attitude of men, we were scorned as upstarts.

The world has now discovered that there was less cowardice and more comity in this yielding than had been supposed.  Yet in candor one must confess that it was barely not carried to a fatal extent.  One step more in that direction, and we had gone over the brink and into the abyss.  Only when the last test arrived, and we must decide once and forever whether we would be the champions or the apostates of civilization, did we show to the foe not the dastard back, but the dauntless front.  And the proposal to “compromise” is simply and exactly a proposal to us to reverse that decision.

Again, we can propose no compromise, such as would stay the war, without confessing that there was no occasion for beginning it.  And if, indeed, we began it without occasion, without an occasion absolutely imperative, then does the whole mountain—­weight of its guilt lie on our hearts.  Then in every man that has fallen on either side we are assassins.  The proposal to bring back the seceded States by submission to their demands is neither more nor less than a proposal to write “Murderer” on the brow of every soldier in our armies, and “Twice Murderer” over the grave of every one of our slain.  If such submission be due now, not less was it due before the war began.  To say that it was then due, and then withheld, is, I repeat, merely to brand with the blackness of assassination the whole patriotic service of the United States, both civil and military, for the last two years.