Assuming that the war commenced in violation of the Constitution, we have ample reason for its arrest on this account alone. Of course the troops should be withdrawn to where they were, when, in defiance of the Constitution, they moved upon disputed territory. But the war is not only unconstitutional, it is unjust, and it is vile in object and character. It had its origin in a well-known series of measures to extend and perpetuate Slavery. It is a war which must ever be odious in history, beyond the outrages of brutality which disgrace other nations and times. It is a slave-driving war. In principle it is only a little above those miserable conflicts between barbarian chiefs of Central Africa to obtain slaves for the inhuman markets of Brazil. Such a war must be accursed in the sight of God. Why is it not accursed in the sight of man? We are told that the country is engaged in the war, and therefore it must be maintained, or, as it is sometimes expressed, vigorously prosecuted. In other words, the violation of the Constitution and the outrage upon justice sink out of sight, and we are urged to these same acts again. By what necromancy do these pass from wrong to right? In what book of morals is it written, that what is bad before it is undertaken becomes righteous merely from the circumstance that it is commenced? Who on earth is authorized to transmute wrong into right? Whoso admits the unconstitutionality and injustice of the war, and yet sanctions its prosecution, must approve the Heaven-defying sentiment, "Our country, right or wrong." Can this be the sentiment of Boston? If so, in vain are her children nurtured in the churches of the Pilgrims, in vain fed from the common table of knowledge bountifully supplied by our common schools. Who would profess allegiance to wrong? Who would deny allegiance to right? Right is one of the attributes of God, or rather it is part of his Divinity, immortal as himself. The mortal cannot be higher than the immortal. Had this sentiment been received by our English defenders in the war of the Revolution, no fiery tongue of Chatham, Burke, Fox, or Camden would have been heard in our behalf. Their great testimony would have failed. All would have been silenced, while crying that the country, right or wrong, must be carried through the war. Here is a gross confusion of opposite duties in cases of _defence_ and of _offence_. When a country is invaded, its soil pressed by hostile footsteps, its churches desecrated, its inhabitants despoiled of homes, its national life assailed, then the indignant spirit of a free people rises to repel the aggressor. Such an occasion challenges all the energies of _self-defence_. It has about it all that dismal glory which can be earned in scenes of human strife. But if it be right to persevere in _defence_, it must be wrong to persevere in _offence_. If the Mexicans are right in defending their homes, we certainly are wrong in invading them.