America in general, however, though breathing freely again as the war cloud passed, was bitter.

"The feeling against Great Britain is of intense hatred and the conclusion of the whole matter is, that we must give up the traitors, put down the rebellion, increase our navy, perfect the discipline of the 600,000 men in the field, and then fight Great Britain[486]." Lowell, in one of the most emotional of his "Bigelow Papers," wrote, on January 6, 1862: "It don't seem hardly right, John, When both my hands was full, To stump me to a fight, John-- Your cousin, tu, John Bull! Ole Uncle S., sez he, 'I guess We know it now,' sez he, 'The lion's paw is all the law, Accordin' to J.B., Thet's fit for you an' me[487]!'" It was not the demand itself for the release of Mason and Slidell that in the end so stirred America as the warlike tone of the British press and the preparations of the Government.

Even after their surrender America was further incensed by British boasting that America had yielded to a threat of war, as in the _Punch_ cartoon of a penitent small boy, Uncle Sam, who "says he is very sorry and that he didn't mean to do it," and so escapes the birching Britannia was about to administer.

America had, in all truth, yielded to a threat, but disliked being told so, and regarded the threat itself as evidence of British ill-will[488].

This was long the attitude of the American public.
In England the knowledge of America's decision caused a great national sigh of relief, coupled with a determination to turn the cold shoulder to the released envoys.