Such a conclusion to such a declaration and such a speech would have been a thing of course,—­so much a thing of course, that I will be bold to say, if in any ancient history, the Roman for instance, (supposing that in Rome the matter of such a detail could have been furnished,) a consul had gone through such a long train of proceedings, and that there was a chasm in the manuscripts by which we had lost the conclusion of the speech and the subsequent part of the narrative, all critics would agree that a Freinshemius would have been thought to have managed the supplementary business of a continuator most unskillfully, and to have supplied the hiatus most improbably, if he had not filled up the gaping space in a manner somewhat similar (though better executed) to what I have imagined.  But too often different is rational conjecture from melancholy fact.  This exordium, as contrary to all the rules of rhetoric as to those more essential rules of policy which our situation would dictate, is intended as a prelude to a deadening and disheartening proposition; as if all that a minister had to fear in a war of his own conducting was, that the people should pursue it with too ardent a zeal.  Such a tone as I guessed the minister would have taken, I am very sure, is the true, unsuborned, unsophisticated language of genuine, natural feeling, under the smart of patience exhausted and abused.  Such a conduct as the facts stated in the Declaration gave room to expect is that which true wisdom would have dictated under the impression of those genuine feelings.  Never was there a jar or discord between genuine sentiment and sound policy.  Never, no, never, did Nature say one thing and Wisdom say another.  Nor are sentiments of elevation in themselves turgid and unnatural.  Nature is never more truly herself than in her grandest forms.  The Apollo of Belvedere (if the universal robber has yet left him at Belvedere) is as much in Nature as any figure from the pencil of Rembrandt or any clown in the rustic revels of Teniers.  Indeed, it is when a great nation is in great difficulties that minds must exalt themselves to the occasion, or all is lost.  Strong passion under the direction of a feeble reason feeds a low fever, which serves only to destroy the body that entertains it.  But vehement passion does not always indicate an infirm judgment.  It often accompanies, and actuates, and is even auxiliary to a powerful understanding; and when they both conspire and act harmoniously, their force is great to destroy disorder within and to repel injury from abroad.  If ever there was a time that calls on us for no vulgar conception of things, and for exertions in no vulgar strain, it is the awful hour that Providence has now appointed to this nation.  Every little measure is a great error, and every great error will bring on no small ruin.  Nothing can be directed above the mark that we must aim at:  everything below it is absolutely thrown away.