etent, it is always the most desirable. But some of them are
of a nature to be met by force only, and all of them may lead to it."

Coming from the pen of a President who had declared that peace was his
passion, these belligerent words caused some bewilderment but, on the
whole, very considerable satisfaction in Republican circles, where the
possibility of rupture had been freely discussed. The people of the
Southwest took the President at his word and looked forward with
enthusiasm to a war which would surely overthrow Spanish rule in the
Floridas and yield the coveted lands along the Gulf of Mexico. The
country awaited with eagerness those further details which the President
had promised to set forth in another message. These were felt to be
historic moments full of dramatic possibilities.

Three days later, behind closed doors, Congress listened to the special
message which was to put the nation to the supreme test. Alas for those
who had expected a trumpet call to battle. Never was a state paper
better calculated to wither martial spirit. In dull fashion it recounted
the events of Monroe's unlucky mission and announced the advance of
Spanish forces in the Southwest, which, however, the President had not
repelled, conceiving that "Congress alone is constitutionally invested
with the power of changing our condition from peace to war." He had
"barely instructed" our forces "to patrol the borders actually delivered
to us." It soon dawned upon the dullest intelligence that the President
had not the slightest intention to recommend a declaration of war. On
the contrary, he was at pains to point out the path to peace. There
was reason to believe that France was now disposed to lend her aid in
effecting a settlement with Spain, and "not a moment should be lost
in availing ourselves of it." "Formal war is not necessary, it is not
probable it will follow; but the protection of our citizens, the spirit
and honor of our country, require that force should be interposed to
a certain degree. It will probably contribute to advance the object of
peace."

After the warlike tone of the first message, this sounded like a
retreat. It outraged the feelings of the war party. It was, to their
minds, an anticlimax, a pusillanimous surrender. None was angrier than
John Randolph of Virginia, hitherto the leader of the forces of the
Administration in the House. He did not hesitate to express his disgust
with "this double set of opinions and