and that, when from that civil war our Union issued with confirmed assurance of its permanence, it required not the army we had at that time, but a mere nod of Uncle Sam's head, to make the French Emperor take to his heels. Does any one doubt it? The close of our civil war and the disbandment of our forces were followed by a long revival of peace, during which we were substantially without army and navy. Did any old-world power make any attempt to break through the Monroe Doctrine, although they were armed and we were not? Nay, it was during that very period when the strongest and proudest sea power of the world, Great Britain, submitted to that terrible humiliation of her pride, the Alabama settlement, rather than run into a serious quarrel with the restored Union. Nor did any other power show the least disposition to risk such a quarrel, although some of them may have disliked our Monroe Doctrine, or this Republic generally, ever so much.
And why did they not? For the simple reason, among others, that, although they were armed and we were not, they all knew that they—not one of them—could afford to risk a serious quarrel with the United States. They all knew, and know now, that this is a country of very great wealth, and practically inexhaustible resources in men and means; that the Americans are a people not only strong in numbers, but of exceptional ingenuity, energy and enterprise, and of a patriotic spirit that shuns no sacrifice; that this Republic, on its continental fastness, is impregnable, if not substantially unassailable; that a strong and daring enemy might perhaps, at the beginning of a war, at best succeed in scratching our edges, but no more; that such a war, in the worst case for us, would be a long one, but, owing to our immense staying power, at last a hopeless one for our enemy, as to the final result; that by such a war the resources of our old-world enemy
