in my political experience so striking, an a display of spontaneous
public action, as that of the vast gathering at Exeter Hall (in London),
when, without one attraction in the form of a popular orator, the vast
building, its minor rooms and passages, and the streets adjoining, were
crowded with an enthusiastic audience. That meeting has had a powerful
effect on our newspapers and politicians. It has closed the mouths of
those who have been advocating the side of the South. And I now write to
assure you that any unfriendly act on the part of our Government--no
matter which of our aristocratic parties is in power--towards your cause
is not to be apprehended. If an attempt were made by the Government in
any way to commit us to the South, a spirit would be instantly aroused
which would drive that Government from power."

I lay emphasis at this point upon these instances (many more could be
given) because it has been the habit of most Americans to say that
England stopped being hostile to the North as soon as the North began to
win. In January, 1863, the North had not visibly begun to win. It had
suffered almost unvaried defeat so far; and the battles of Gettysburg and
Vicksburg, where the tide turned at last our way, were still six months
ahead. It was from January 1, 1863, when Lincoln planted our cause firmly
and openly on abolition ground, that the undercurrent of British sympathy
surged to the top. The true wonder is, that this undercurrent should have
been so strong all along, that those English sympathizers somehow in
their hearts should have known what we were fighting for more clearly
than we had been able to see it; ourselves. The key to this is given in
Beecher's letter--it is nowhere better given--and to it I must now
return.

"I soon perceived that my first error was in supposing that Great Britain
was an impartial spectator. In fact, she was morally an actor in the