issues more immediately vital to Great Britain, in her then desperate struggle, than they were to ourselves, and that the great majority of her statesmen and people, of both parties, so regarded them.  The attempt of our government to temporize with the difficulty, to overcome violence by means of peaceable coercion, instead of meeting it by the creation of a naval force so strong as to be a factor of consideration in the international situation, led us into an avoidable war.

The conditions which now constitute the political situation of the United States, relatively to the world at large, are fundamentally different from those that obtained at the beginning of the century.  It is not a mere question of greater growth, of bigger size.  It is not only that we are larger, stronger, have, as it were, reached our majority, and are able to go out into the world.  That alone would be a difference of degree, not of kind.  The great difference between the past and the present is that we then, as regards close contact with the power of the chief nations of the world, were really in a state of political isolation which no longer exists.  This arose from our geographical position—­reinforced by the slowness and uncertainty of the existing means of intercommunication—­and yet more from the grave preoccupation of foreign statesmen with questions of unprecedented and ominous importance upon the continent of Europe.  A policy of isolation was for us then practicable,—­though even then only partially.  It was expedient, also, because we were weak, and in order to allow the individuality of the nation time to accentuate itself.  Save the questions connected with the navigation of the Mississippi, collision with other peoples was only likely to arise, and actually did arise, from going beyond our own borders in search of trade.  The reasons now evoked by some against our political action outside our own borders might have been used then with equal appositeness against our commercial enterprises.  Let us stay at home, or we shall get into trouble.  Jefferson, in truth, averse in principle to commerce as to war, was happily logical in his embargo system.  It not only punished the foreigner and diminished the danger of international complications, but it kept our own ships out of harm’s way; and if it did destroy trade, and cause the grass to grow in the streets of New York, the incident, if inconvenient, had its compensations, by repressing hazardous external activities.

Few now, of course, would look with composure upon a policy, whatever its ground, which contemplated the peaceable seclusion of this nation from its principal lines of commerce.  In 1807, however, a great party accepted the alternative rather than fight, or even than create a force which might entail war, although more probably it would have prevented it.  But would it be more prudent now to ignore the fact that we are no longer—­however much we may regret it—­in a position of insignificance or isolation,