Then came the long twenty-three years' war in which Great Britain, for
the most part single-handed, fought for the freedom of Europe against
the most colossal tyranny ever devised by victorious captain. No
nation in the history of the world ever carried on such a war, so
stubborn, so desperate, so vital. Had Great Britain failed, what would
now be the position of the world? The victories, the defeats, the
successes, the disasters, which marked that long struggle, at least
made our people forget their humiliation in America. The final triumph
gave us back, as it was certain to do, more than our former pride,
more than our old self-reliance. America was forgotten, the old love
for America was gone; how could we remember our former affections
when, at the very time when our need was the sorest, when every ship,
every soldier, every sailor that we could find, was wanted to break
down the power of the man who had subjugated the whole of Europe,
except Russia and Great Britain, the United States--the very Land of
Liberty--did her best to cripple the Armies of Liberty by proclaiming
war against us? And now, indeed, there was nothing left at all of the
old romance. It was quite, quite dead. In the popular imagination all
was forgotten, except that on the other side of the Atlantic lived an
implacable enemy, whose rancour--it then seemed to our people--was
even greater than their boasted love of liberty.
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