LETTER I. On the Overtures of Peace.

OUR laſt converſation, though not in the tone of abſolute deſpondency, was far from chear⯑ful. We could not eaſily account for ſome un⯑pleaſant appearances. They were repreſented to us as indicating the ſtate of the popular mind; and they were not at all what we ſhould have expected from our old ideas even of the faults and vices of the Engliſh character. The diſaſtrous events, which have followed one upon another in a long unbroken funereal train, moving in a proceſſion, that ſeemed to have no end, theſe were not the principal cauſes of our dejection. We feared more from what threatened to fail within, than what me⯑naced to oppreſs us from abroad. To a people who have once been proud and great, and great becauſe they were proud, a change in the national ſpirit is the moſt terrible of all revolutions.

[...] ſhall not live to behold the unravelling of the intricate plot, which ſaddens and perplexes the [2] awful drama of Providence, now acting on the moral theatre of the world. Whether for thought or for action, I am at the end of my career. You are in the middle of yours. In what part of it's orbit the nation, with which we are carried along, moves at this inſtant, it is not eaſy to conjecture. It may, perhaps, be far advanced in its aphelion.— But when to return?

Not to loſe ourſelves in the infinite void of the conjectural world, our buſineſs is with what is likely to be affected for the better or the worſe, by the wiſdom or weakneſs of our plans. In all ſpeculations upon men and human affairs, it is of no ſmall moment to diſtinguiſh things of accident from permanent cauſes, and from effects that cannot be altered. It is not every irregularity in our movement that is a total devi⯑ation from our courſe. I am not quite of the mind of thoſe ſpeculators, who ſeem aſſured, th [...] neceſſarily, and by the conſtitution of things, [...] States have the ſame periods of infancy, manhoo [...] and decrepitude, that are found in the individuals who compoſe them. Parallels of this ſort rather furniſh ſimilitudes to illuſtrate or to adorn, than to ſupply analogies from whence to rea⯑ſon. The objects which are attempted [...]o be forced into an analogy are not found in the ſame claſſes of exiſtence. Individuals are phyſical be⯑ings, [3] ſubject to laws univerſal and invariable. The immediate cauſe acting in theſe laws may be ob⯑ſcure: The general reſults are ſubjects of certain calculation. But commonwealths are not phyſical but moral eſſences. They are artificial combina⯑tions; and in their proximate efficient cauſe, the arbitrary productions of the human mind. We are not yet acquainted with the laws which neceſ⯑ſarily influence the ſtability of that kind of work made by that kind of agent. There is not in the phyſical order (with which they do not appear to hold any aſſignable connexion) a diſtinct cauſe by which any of thoſe fabricks muſt neceſſarily grow, flouriſh, or decay; nor, in my opinion, does the moral world produce any thing more determinate on that ſubject, than what may ſerve as an amuſe⯑ment (liberal indeed, and ingenious, but ſtill only an amuſement) for ſpeculative men. I doubt whe⯑ther the hiſtory of mankind is yet compleat enough, if ever it can be ſo, to furniſh grounds for a ſure theory on the internal cauſes which neceſſarily af⯑fect the fortune of a State. I am far from deny⯑ing the operation of ſuch cauſes: But they are in⯑finitely uncertain, and much more obſcure, and much more difficult to trace, than the foreign cauſes that tend to raiſe, to depreſs, and ſome⯑times to overwhelm a community.

It is often impoſſible, in theſe political enquiries, to find any proportion between the apparent force [4] of any moral cauſes we may aſſign and their known operation. We are therefore obliged to deliver up that operation to mere chance, or more piouſly (perhaps more rationally) to the occaſional inter⯑poſition and irreſiſtible hand of the Great Diſ⯑poſer. We have ſeen States of conſiderable duration, which for ages have remained nearly as they have begun, and could hardly be ſaid to ebb or flow. Some appear to have ſpent their vigour at their commencement. Some have blazed out in their glory a little before their extinction. The meri⯑dian of ſome has been the moſt ſplendid. Others, and they the greateſt number, have fluctuated, and experienced at different periods of their exiſtence a great variety of fortune. At the very moment when ſome of them ſeemed plunged in unfathom⯑able abyſſes of diſgrace and diſaſter, they have ſuddenly emerged. They have begun a new courſe and opened a new reckoning; and even in the depths of their calamity, and on the very ruins of their country, have laid the foundations of a tow⯑ering and durable greatneſs. All this has happened without any apparent previous change in the ge⯑neral circumſtances which had brought on their diſtreſs. The death of a man at a critical junc⯑ture, his diſguſt, his retreat, his diſgrace, have brought innumerable calamities on a whole na⯑tion. A common ſoldier, a child, a girl at the door of an inn, have changed the face of fortune, and almoſt of Nature.

[5]Such, and often influenced by ſuch cauſes, has commonly been the fate of Monarchies of long duration. They have their ebbs and their flows. This has been eminently the fate of the Monarchy of France. There have been times in which no Power has ever been brought ſo low. Few have ever flouriſhed in greater glory. By turns elevated and depreſſed, that Power had been, on the whole, rather on the encreaſe; and it continued not only powerful but formidable to the hour of the total ruin of the Monarchy. This fall of the Monarchy was far from being preceded by any exterior ſymptoms of decline. The interior were not viſible to every eye; and a thouſand ac⯑cidents might have prevented the operation of what the moſt clear-ſighted were not able to diſcern, nor the moſt provident to divine. A very little time before its dreadful cataſtrophe, there was a kind of exterior ſplendour in the ſituation of the Crown, which uſually adds to Government ſtrength and authority at home. The Crown ſeemed then to have obtained ſome of the moſt ſplendid objects of ſtate ambition. None of the Continental Powers of Europe were the ene⯑mies of France. They were all, either tacitly diſpoſed to her, or publickly connected with her; and in thoſe who kept the moſt aloof, there was little appearance of jealouſy; of animoſity there was no appearance at all. The Britiſh Nation, her great preponderating rival, ſhe had humbled; to [6] all appearance ſhe had weakened; certainly had endangered, by cutting off a very large, and by far the moſt growing part of her empire. In that it's acmé of human proſperity and greatneſs, in the high and palmy ſtate of the Monarchy of France, it fell to the ground without a ſtruggle. It fell without any of thoſe vices in the Monarch, which have ſometimes been the cauſes of the fall of kingdoms, but which exiſted, without any viſible effect on the ſtate, in the higheſt degree in many other Princes; and, far from deſtroying their power, had only left ſome ſlight ſtains on their character. The finan⯑cial difficulties were only pretexts and inſtruments of thoſe who accompliſhed the ruin of that Mo⯑narchy. They were not the cauſes of it.

Deprived of the old Government, deprived in a manner of all Government, France fallen as a Mo⯑narchy, to common ſpeculators might have ap⯑peared more likely to be an object of pity or in⯑ſult, according to the diſpoſition of the circumja⯑cent powers, than to be the ſcourge and terror of them all: But out of the tomb of the murdered Monarchy in France, has ariſen a vaſt, tremendous, unformed ſpectre, in a far more terrific guiſe than any which ever yet have overpowered the imagina⯑tion, and ſubdued the fortitude of man. Going ſtraight forward to it's end, unappalled by peril, un⯑checked by remorſe, deſpiſing all common max⯑ims and all common means, that hideous phan⯑tom [7] overpowerd thoſe who could not believe it was poſſible ſhe could at all exiſt, except on the prin⯑ciples, which habit rather than nature had perſuad⯑ed them were neceſſary to their own particular welfare and to their own ordinary modes of action. But the conſtitution of any political being, as well as that of any phyſical being, ought to be known, before one can venture to ſay what is fit for it's conſervation, or what is the proper means of it's power. The poiſon of other States is the food of the new Republick. That bankruptcy, the very apprehenſion of which is one of the cauſes aſſigned for the fall of the Monarchy, was the ca⯑pital on which ſhe opened her traffick with the world.

The Republick of Regicide with an annihilated revenue, with defaced manufactures, with a ruined commerce, with an uncultivated and half depopu⯑lated country, with a diſcontented, diſtreſſed, enſlav⯑ed, and famiſhed people, paſſing with a rapid, eccen⯑trick, incalculable courſe, from the wildeſt anarchy to the ſterneſt deſpotiſm, has actually conquered the fineſt parts of Europe, has diſtreſſed, diſunited, deranged, and broke to pieces all the reſt; and ſo ſubdued the minds of the rulers in every nation, that hardly any reſource preſents itſelf to them, except that of entitling themſelves to a contemp⯑tuous mercy by a diſplay of their imbecility and meanneſs. Even in their greateſt military efforts [8] and the greateſt diſplay of their fortitude, they ſeem not to hope, they do not even appear to wiſh, the extinction of what ſubſiſts to their certain ruin. Their ambition is only to be admitted to a more favoured claſs in the order of ſervitude under that domineering power.

This ſeems the temper of the day. At firſt the French force was too much deſpiſed. Now it is too much dreaded. As inconſiderate courage has given way to irrational fear, ſo it may be hoped, that through the medium of deliberate ſober apprehenſion, we may arrive at ſteady fortitude. Who knows whether indignation may not ſucceed to terror, and the revival of high ſentiment, ſpurn⯑ing away the deluſion of a ſafety purchaſed at the expence of glory, may not yet drive us to that ge⯑nerous deſpair, which has often ſubdued diſtem⯑pers in the State for which no remedy could be found in the wiſeſt councils.

Other great States, having been without any re⯑gular certain courſe of elevation, or decline, we may hope that the Britiſh fortune may fluctuate al⯑ſo; becauſe the public mind, which greatly influences that fortune, may have it's changes. We are there⯑fore never authorized to abandon our country to it's fate, or to act or adviſe as if it had no reſource. There is no reaſon to apprehend, becauſe ordinary [9] means threaten to fail, that no others can ſpring up. Whilſt our heart is whole, it will find means, or make them. The heart of the citizen is a pe⯑rennial ſpring of energy to the State. Becauſe the pulſe ſeems to intermit, we muſt not preſume that it will ceaſe inſtantly to beat. The publick muſt never be regarded as incurable. I remember in the be⯑ginning of what has lately been called the ſeven years war, that an eloquent writer and ingenious ſpeculator, Dr. Browne, upon ſome reverſes which happened in the beginning of that war, publiſhed an elaborate philoſophical diſcourſe to prove that the diſtinguiſhing features of the people of Eng⯑land had been totally changed, and that a frivolous effeminacy was become the national character. Nothing could be more popular than that work. It was thought a great conſolation to us the light people of this country (who were and are light, but who were not and are not effeminate) that we had found the cauſes of our miſfortunes in our vices. Pythagoras could not be more pleaſed with his leading diſcovery. But whilſt in that ſplenetick mood we amuſed ourſelves in a four critical ſpeculation, of which we were ourſelves the objects, and in which every man loſt his par⯑ticular ſenſe of the publick diſgrace in the epide⯑mic nature of the diſtemper; whilſt, as in the Alps Goitre kept Goitre in countenance; whilſt we were thus abandoning ourſelves to a direct con⯑feſſion [10] of our inferiority to France, and whilſt many, very many, were ready to act upon a ſenſe of that inferiority, a few months effected a total change in our variable minds. We emerged from the gulph of that ſpeculative deſpondency; and were buoyed up to the higheſt point of prac⯑tical vigour. Never did the maſculine ſpirit of Eng⯑land diſplay itſelf with more energy, nor ever did it's genius ſoar with a prouder pre-eminence over France, than at the time when frivolity and effe⯑minacy had been at leaſt tacitly acknowledged as their national character, by the good people of this kingdom.

For one (if they be properly treated) I deſpair nei⯑ther of the publick fortune nor of the publick mind. There is much to be done undoubtedly, and much to be retrieved. We muſt walk in new ways, or we can never encounter our enemy in his devious march. We are not at an end of our ſtruggle, nor near it. Let us not deceive ourſelves: we are at the beginning of great troubles. I readily acknowledge that the ſtate of publick affairs is infinitely more unpromiſ⯑ing than at the period I have juſt now alluded to, and the poſition of all the Powers of Europe, in relation to us, and in relation to each other, is more intricate and critical beyond all compariſon. Difficult indeed is our ſituation. In all ſitua⯑tions of difficulty men will be influenced in the [11] part they take, not only by the reaſon of the caſe, but by the peculiar turn of their own character. The ſame ways to ſafety do not preſent themſelves to all men, nor to the ſame men in different tem⯑pers. There is a courageous wiſdom: there is alſo a falſe reptile prudence, the reſult not of caution but of fear. Under misfortunes it often happens that the nerves of the underſtanding are ſo relaxed, the preſſing peril of the hour ſo completely con⯑founds all the faculties, that no future danger can be properly provided for, can be juſtly eſtimated, can be ſo much as fully ſeen. The eye of the mind is dazzled and vanquiſhed. An abject diſ⯑truſt of ourſelves, an extravagant admiration of the enemy, preſent us with no hope but in a com⯑promiſe with his pride, by a ſubmiſſion to his will. This ſhort plan of policy is the only counſel which will obtain a hearing. We plunge into a dark gulph with all the raſh precipitation of fear. The nature of courage is, without a queſtion, to be con⯑verſant with danger; but in the palpable night of their terrors, men under conſternation ſuppo [...] not that it is the danger, which, by a ſure inſtinct, calls out the courage to reſiſt it, but that it [...] [...]he courage which produces the danger. They therefore ſeek for a refuge from t [...]eir fears in the fears them⯑ſelves, and conſider a temporizing meanneſs as the only ſource of ſafety.

[12]The rules and definitions of prudence can rarely be exact; never univerſal. I do not deny that in ſmall truckling ſtates a timely compromiſe with power has often been the means, and the only means, of drawling out their puny exiſtence: But a great ſtate is too much envied, too much dreaded, to find ſafety in humiliation. To be ſecure, it muſt be reſpected. Power, and eminence, and conſideration, are things not to be begged. They muſt be commanded: and they who ſupplicate for mercy from others can never hope for juſtice thro' themſelves. What juſtice they are to obtain, as the alms of an enemy, depends upon his character; and that they ought well to know before they im⯑plicitly confide.

Much controverſy there has been in Parliament, and not a little amongſt us out of doors, about the inſtrumental means of this nation towards the maintenance of her dignity, and the aſſertion of her rights. On the moſt elaborate and correct detail of facts, the reſult ſeems to be, that at no time has the wealth and power of Great Britain been ſo con⯑ſiderable as it is at this very perilous moment. We have a vaſt intereſt to preſerve, and we poſſeſs great means of preſerving it: But it is to be remembered that the artificer may be incumbered by his tools, and that reſources may be among impediments. If wealth is the obedient and laborious ſlave of [13] virtue and of publick honour, then wealth is in it's place, and has it's uſe: But if this order is chang⯑ed, and honor is to be ſacrificed to the conſer⯑vation of riches, riches which have neither eyes nor hands, nor any thing truly vital in them, cannot long ſurvive the being of their vivifying powers, their legitimate maſters, and their potent protectors. If we command our wealth, we ſhall be rich and free: If our wealth commands us, we are poor indeed. We are bought by the enemy with the treaſure from our own coffers. Too great a ſenſe of the value of a ſubordinate intereſt may be the very ſource of it's danger, as well as the certain ruin of intereſts of a ſuperiour order. Often has a man loſt his all becauſe he would not ſubmit to ha⯑zard all in defending it. A diſplay of our wealth before robbers is not the way to reſtrain their bold⯑neſs, or to leſſen their rapacity. This diſplay is made, I know, to perſuade the people of England that thereby we ſhall awe the enemy, and improve the terms of our capitulation: it is made, not that we ſhould fight with more animation, but that we ſhould ſupplicate with better hopes. We are miſtaken. We have an enemy to deal with who ne⯑ver regarded our conteſt as a meaſuring and weigh⯑ing of purſes. He is the Gaul that puts his ſword into the ſcale. He is more tempted with our wealth as booty, than terrifi [...]d with it as power. But let us be rich or poor, let us be either in what [14] proportion we may, nature is falſe or this is true, that where the eſſential publick force, (of which money is but a part,) is in any degree upon a par in a conflict between nations, that ſtate which is re⯑ſolved to hazard it's exiſtence rather than to aban⯑don it's objects, muſt have an infinite advantage over that which is reſolved to yield rather than to carry it's reſiſtance beyond a certain point. Hu⯑manly ſpeaking, that people which bounds it's ef⯑forts only with it's being, muſt give the law to that nation which will not puſh it's oppoſition beyond its convenience.

If we look to nothing but our domeſtick condi⯑tion, the ſtate of the nation is full even to plethory; but if we imagine that this country can long main⯑tain it's blood and it's food, as disjoined from the community of mankind, ſuch an opinion does not deſerve refutation as abſurd, but pity as inſane.

I do not know that ſuch an improvident and ſtupid ſelfiſhneſs, deſerves the diſcuſſion, which, perhaps, I may beſtow upon it hereafter. We can⯑not arrange with our enemy in the preſent conjunc⯑ture, without abandoning the intereſt of mankind. If we look only to our own petty peculium in the war, we have had ſome advantanges; advantages ambiguous in their nature, and dearly bought. We have not in the ſlighteſt degree, impaired the [15] ſtrength of the common enemy, in any one of thoſe points in which his particular force conſiſts; at the ſame time that new enemies to ourſelves, new allies to the Regicide Republick, have been made out of the wrecks and fragments of the ge⯑neral confederacy. So far as to the ſelfiſh part. As compoſing a part of the community of Europe, and intereſted in it's fate, it is not eaſy to conceive a ſtate of things more doubtful and perplexing. When Louis the XIVth had made himſelf maſter of one of the largeſt and moſt important provinces of Spain; when he had in a manner over-run Lombardy, and was thundering at the gates of Turin; when he had maſtered almoſt all Germa⯑ny on this ſide the Rhine; when he was on the point of ruining the auguſt fabrick of the Empire; when with the Elector of Bavaria in his alliance, hardly any thing interpoſed between him and Vi⯑enna; when the Turk hung with a mighty force over the Empire on the other ſide; I do not know, that in the beginning of 1704 (that is in the third year of the renovated war with Louis the XIV) the ſtate of Europe was ſo truly alarming. To England it certainly was not. Holland (and Holland is a matter to England of value ineſtima⯑bl [...]) was then powerful, was then independant, and though greatly endangered, was then full of energy and ſpirit. But the great reſource of Europe was in England: Not in a ſort of England detached [16] from the reſt of the world, and amuſing herſelf with the puppet ſhow of a naval power, (it can be no better, whilſt all the ſources of that power, and of every ſort of power, are precarious) but in that ſort of England, who conſidered herſelf as embo⯑died with Europe; but in that ſort of England, who ſympathetick with the adverſity or the happi⯑neſs of mankind, felt that nothing in human af⯑fairs was foreign to her. We may conſider it as a ſure axiom that, as on the one hand no con⯑federacy of the leaſt effect or duration can exiſt againſt France, of which England is not only a part, but the head, ſo neither can England pre⯑tend to cope with France but as connected with the body of Chriſtendom.

Our account of the war, as a war of communion, to the very point in which we began to throw out lures, oglings, and glances for peace, was a war of diſaſter and of little elſe. The independant advantages obtained by us at the beginning of the war, and which were made at the expence of that common cauſe, if they deceive us about our largeſt and our ſureſt intereſt, are to be reckoned amongſt our heavieſt loſſes.

The allies, and Great Britain amongſt the reſt, (and perhaps amongſt the foremoſt) have been mi⯑ſerably deluded by this great fundamental error; [17] that it was in our power to make peace with this monſter of a State, whenever we choſe to forget the crimes that made it great, and the deſigns that made it formidable. People imagined that their ceaſing to reſiſt was the ſure way to be ſe⯑cure. This ‘"pale caſt of thought ficklied over all their enterprizes and turned all their politicks awry."’They could not, or rather they would not read, in the moſt unequivocal declarations of the ene⯑my, and in his uniform conduct, that more ſafe⯑ty was to be found in the moſt arduous war, than in the friendſhip of that kind of being. It's hoſtile amity can be obtained on no terms that do not im⯑ply an inability hereafter to reſiſt it's deſigns. This great prolific error (I mean that peace was always in our power) has been the cauſe that rendered the allies indifferent about the direction of the war; and perſuaded them that they might always riſque a choice, and even a change in it's objects. They ſeldom improved any advantage; hoping that the enemy, affected by it, would make a proffer of peace. Hence it was, that all their early victo⯑ries have been followed almoſt immediately with the uſual effects of a defeat; whilſt all the advantages obtained by the Regicides, have been followed by the conſequences that were na⯑tural. The diſcomfitures, which the Republick of Aſſaſſins has ſuffered, have uniformly called forth new exertions, which not only repaired old [18] loſſes, but prepared new conqueſts. The loſſes of the allies, on the contrary, (no proviſion having been made on the Speculation of ſuch an event) have been followed by deſertion, by diſmay, by diſ⯑union, by a dereliction of their policy, by a flight from their principles, by an admiration of the ene⯑my, by mutual accuſations, by a diſtruſt in every member of the alliance of it's fellow, of it's cauſe, it's power, and it's courage.

Great difficulties in conſequence of our errone⯑ous policy, as I have ſaid, preſs upon every ſide of us. Far from deſiring to conceal or even to palli⯑ate the evil in the repreſentation, I wiſh to lay it down as my foundation, that never greater exiſted. In a moment when ſudden panick is apprehended, it may be wiſe, for a while to conceal ſome great publick diſaſter, or to reveal it by degrees, until the minds of the people have time to be re-collected, that their underſtanding may have leiſure to rally, and that more ſteady councils may prevent their doing ſomething deſperate under the firſt impreſſions of rage or terror. But with regard to a general ſtate of things, growing out of events and cauſes already known in the groſs, there is no piety in the fraud that covers it's true nature; becauſe nothing but erroneous reſolutions can be the reſult of fal [...]e repreſentations. Thoſe meaſures which in common diſtreſs might be available, in greater, [19] are no better than playing with the evil. That the effort may bear a proportion to the exigence, it is fit it ſhould be known; known in it's quality, in it's extent, and in all the circumſtances which at⯑tend it. Great reverſes of fortune, there have been, and great embarraſſments in council: a princi⯑pled Regicide enemy poſſeſſed of the moſt important part of Europe and ſtruggling for the reſt: within ourſelves a total relaxation of all authority, whilſt a cry is raiſed againſt it, as if it were the moſt fero⯑cious of all deſpotiſin: a worſe phaenomenon;—our government diſowned by the moſt efficient member of it's tribunals; ill ſupported by any of their conſti⯑tuent parts; and the higheſt tribunal of all (from cauſes not for our preſent purpoſe to examine) deprived of all that dignity and all that efficiency which might enforce, or regulate, or if the caſe required it, might ſupply the want of every other court. Public pro⯑ſecutions are become little better than ſchools for treaſon; of no uſe but to improve the dexterity of cri⯑minals in the myſtery of evaſion; or to ſhew with what compleat impunity men may conſpire againſt the Commonwealth; with what ſafety aſſaſſins may at⯑tempt it's awful head. Every thing is ſecure, ex⯑cept what the laws have made ſacred; every thing is tameneſs and languor that is not fury and fac⯑tion. Whilſt the diſtempers of a relaxed fibre prognoſticate and prepare all the morbid force of convulſion in the body of the State the ſteadineſs [20] of the phyſician is overpowered by the very aſpect of the diſeaſe.^* The doctor of the Conſtitution, pre⯑tending to under-rate what he is not able to contend with, ſhrinks from his own operation. He doubts and queſtions the ſalutary but critical terrors of the cautery and the knife. He takes a poor credit even from his defeat; and covers impotence un⯑der the maſk of lenity. He praiſes the moderation of the laws, as in his hands, he ſees them baf⯑fled and deſpiſed. Is all this, becauſe in our day the ſtatutes of the kingdom are not engroſſed in as firm a character, and imprinted in as black and legible a type as ever? No! the law is a clear, but it is a dead letter. Dead and putrid, it is inſufficient to ſave the State, but potent to infect, and to kill. Living law, full of reaſon, and of equity and juſtice, (as it is, or it ſhould not exiſt) ought to be ſevere and awful too; or the words of menace, whether written on the parch⯑ment roll of England, or cut into the brazen ta⯑blet of Rome, will excite nothing but contempt. How comes it, that in all the State proſecutions of magnitude, from the Revolution to within theſe two or three years, the Crown has ſcarcely ever retired diſgraced and defeated from it's Courts? Whence this alarming change? By a connexion ea⯑ſily felt, and not impoſſible to be traced to it's cauſe, all the parts of the State have their correſpon⯑dence [21] and conſent. They who bow to the enemy abroad will not be of power to ſubdue the conſpi⯑rator at home. It is impoſſible not to obſerve, that in proportion as we approximate to the poi⯑ſonous jaws of anarchy, the faſcination grows ir⯑reſiſtible. In proportion as we are attracted to⯑wards the focus of illegality, irreligion, and deſ⯑perate enterprize, all the venomous and blighting inſects of the State are awakened into life. The promiſe of the year is blaſted, and ſhrivelled, and burned up before them. Our moſt ſalutary and moſt beautiful inſtitutions yield nothing but duſt and ſmut: the harveſt of our law is no more than ſtubble. It is in the nature of theſe eruptive diſ⯑eaſes in the State to ſink in by fits and re-appear. But the fuel of the malady remains; and in my opinion is not in the ſmalleſt degree mitigated in it's malignity, though it waits the favourable mo⯑ment of a freer communication with the ſource of Regicide to exert and to encreaſe it's force.

Is it that the people are changed, that the Com⯑monwealth cannot be protected by its laws? I hardly think it. On the contrary, I conceive, that theſe things happen becauſe men are not changed, but re⯑main always what they always were; they remain what the bulk of us muſt ever be, when abandoned to our vulgar propenſities, without guide, leader or con⯑troul: That is, made to be full of a blind elevation in [22] proſperity; to deſpiſe untried dangers; to be over⯑powered with unexpected reverſes; to find no clue in a labyrinth of difficulties; to get out of a pre⯑ſent inconvenience with any riſque of future ruin; to follow and to bow to fortune; to admire ſuc⯑ceſsful though wicked enterprize, and to imitate what we admire: to contemn the government which announces danger from ſacrilege and regi⯑cide, whilſt they are only in their infancy and their ſtruggle, but which finds nothing that can alarm in their adult ſtate and in the power and triumph of thoſe deſtructive principles. In a maſs we cannot be left to ourſelves. We muſt have leaders. If none will undertake to lead us right, we ſhall find guides who will contrive to conduct us to ſhame and ruin.

We are in a war of a peculiar nature. It is not with an ordinary community, which is hoſtile or friendly as paſſion or as intereſt may veer about; not with a State which makes war through wan⯑tonneſs, and abandons it through laſſitude. We are at war with a ſyſtem, which, by it's eſſence, is inimi⯑cal to all other Governments, and which makes peace or war, as peace and war may beſt con [...]ribute to their ſubverſion. It is with an armed doctrine, that we are at war. It has, by it's eſſence, a faction of opinion, and of intereſt, and of enthuſiaſm, in every country. To us it is a Coloſſus which be⯑ſtrides our channel. It has one foot on a foreign [23] ſhore, the other upon the Britiſh ſoil. Thus ad⯑vantaged if it can at all exiſt, it muſt finally pre⯑vail. Nothing can ſo compleatly ruin any of the old Governments, ours in particular, as the ac⯑knowledgment, directly or by implication, of any kind of ſuperiority in this new power. This ac⯑knowledgment we make, if in a bad or doubtful ſituation of our affairs, we ſolicit peace; or if we yield to the modes of new humiliation, in which alone ſhe is content to give us an hearing. By that means the terms cannot be of our chooſing; no, not in any part.

It is laid in the unalterable conſtitution of things:—None can aſpire to act greatly, but thoſe who are of force greatly to ſuffer. They who make their arrangements in the firſt run of miſad⯑venture, and in a temper of mind the common fruit of diſappointment and diſmay, put a ſeal on their calamities. To their power they take a ſe⯑curity againſt any favours which they might hope from the uſual inconſtancy of fortune. I am there⯑fore, my dear friend, invariably of your opinion (though full of reſpect for thoſe who think diffe⯑rently) that neither the time choſen for it, nor the manner of ſoliciting a negotiation, were properly conſidered; even though I had allowed (I hardly ſhall allow) that with the hord of Regicides we could by any ſelection of time, or uſe of means, [24] obtain any thing at all deſerving the name of peace.

In one point we are lucky. The Regicide has received our advances with ſcorn. We have an enemy, to whoſe virtues we can owe nothing; but on this occaſion we are infinitely obliged to one of his vices. We owe more to his inſolence than to our own precaution. The haughtineſs by which the proud repel us, has this of good in it; that in making us keep our diſtance, they muſt keep their diſtance too. In the preſent caſe, the pride of the Regicide may be our ſafety. He has given time for our reaſon to operate; and for Bri⯑tiſh dignity to recover from it's ſurpriſe. From firſt to laſt he has rejected all our advances. Far as we have gone he has ſtill left a way open to our retreat.

There is always an augury to be taken of what a peace is likely to be, from the preliminary ſteps that are made to bring it about. We may gather ſomething from the time in which the firſt over⯑tures are made; from the quarter whence they come; from the manner in which they are received. Theſe diſcover the temper of the parties. If your enemy offers peace in the moment of ſucceſs, it indicates that he is ſatisfied with ſomething. It ſhews that there are limits to his ambition or his [25] reſentment. If he offers nothing under misfor⯑tune, it is probable, that it is more painful to him to abandon the proſpect of advantage than to en⯑dure calamity. If he rejects ſolicitation, and will not give even a nod to the ſuppliants for peace, until a change in the fortune of the war threatens him with ruin, then I think it evident, that he wiſhes nothing more than to diſarm his adverſary to gain time. Afterwards a queſtion ariſes, which of the parties is likely to obtain the greater ad⯑vantages, by continuing diſarmed and by the uſe of time.

With theſe few plain indications in our minds, it will not be improper to re-conſider the conduct of the enemy together with our own, from the day that a queſtion of peace has been in agitation. In conſidering this part of the queſtion, I do not proceed on my own hypotheſis. I ſuppoſe, for a moment, that this body of Regicide, calling itſelf a Republick, is a politick perſon, with whom ſomething deſerving the name of peace may be made. On that ſuppoſition, let us examine our own proceeding. Let us compute the profit it has brought, and the advantage that it is likely to bring hereafter. A peace too eagerly ſought, is not always the ſooner obtained. The diſcovery of vehement wiſhes generally fruſtrates their at⯑tainment; and your adverſary has gained a great [26] advantage over you when he finds you impatient to conclude a treaty. There is in reſerve, not only ſomething of dignity, but a great deal of prudence too. A ſort of courage belongs to nego⯑tiation as well as to operations of the field. A negotiator muſt often ſeem willing to hazard the whole iſſue of his treaty, if he wiſhes to ſecure any one material point.

The Regicides were the firſt to declare war. We are the firſt to ſue for peace. In proportion to the humility and perſeverance we have ſhewn in our addreſſes, has been the obſtinacy of their arro⯑gance in rejecting our ſuit. The patience of their pride ſeems to have been worn out with the im⯑portunity of our courtſhip. Diſguſted as they are with a conduct ſo different from all the ſentiments by which they are themſelves filled, they think to put an end to our vexatious ſollicitation by re⯑doubling their inſuits.

It happens frequently, that pride may reject a public advance, while intereſt liſtens to a ſecret ſuggeſtion of advantage. The opportunity has been afforded. At a very early period in the diplo⯑macy of humiliation, a gentleman was ſent on an errand^*, of which, from the motive of it, what⯑ever [27] the event might be, we can never be aſhamed. Humanity cannot be degraded by humiliation. It is it's very character to ſubmit to ſuch things. There is a conſanguinity between benevolence and humility. They are virtues of the ſame ſtock. Dignity is of as good a race; but it belongs to the family of Fortitude. In the ſpirit of that benevo⯑lence, we ſent a gentleman to beſeech the Direc⯑tory of Regicide, not to be quite ſo prodigal as their Republick had been of judicial murder. We ſolicited them to ſpare the lives of ſome unhappy perſons of the firſt diſtinction, whoſe ſafety at other times could not have been an object of ſolicitation. They had quitted France on the faith of the declaration of the rights of citizens. They never had been in the ſervice of the Regicides, nor at their hands had received any ſtipend. The very ſyſtem and con⯑ſtitution of government that now prevails, was ſet⯑tled ſubſequent to their emigration. They were under the protection of Great Britain, and in his Majeſty's pay and ſervice. Not an hoſtile inva⯑ſion, but the diſaſters of the ſea had thrown them upon a ſhore, more barbarous and inhoſpitable than the inclement ocean under the moſt pitileſs of it's ſtorms. Here was an opportunity to expreſs a feeling for the miſeries of war; and to open ſome ſort of converſation, which (after our publick over⯑tures had glutted their pride), at a cautious and jealous diſtance, might lead to ſomething like an [28] accommodation. What was the event? A ſtrange uncouth thing, a theatrical figure of the opera, his head ſhaded with three-coloured plumes, his body fantaſtically habited, ſtrutted from the back ſcenes, and after a ſhort ſpeech, in the mock-heroic falſetto of ſtupid tragedy, delivered the gentleman who came to make the repreſentation into the cuſtody of a guard, with directions not to loſe ſight of him for a moment; and then ordered him to be ſent from Paris in two hours.

Here it is impoſſible, that a ſentiment of tender⯑neſs ſhould not ſtrike athwart the ſternneſs of po⯑liticks, and make us recal to painful memory, the difference between this inſolent and bloody theatre, and the temperate, natural majeſty of a civilized court, where the afflicted family of Aſgill did not in vain ſolicit the mercy of the higheſt in rank, and the moſt compaſſionate of the compaſſionate ſex.

In this intercourſe, at leaſt, there was nothing to promiſe a great deal of ſucceſs in our future ad⯑vances. Whilſt the fortune of the field was wholly with the Regicides, nothing was thought of but to follow where it led; and it led to every thing. Not ſo much as a talk of treaty. Laws were laid down with arrogance. The moſt moderate politician [29] in their clan ^* was choſen as the organ, not ſo much for preſcribing limits to their claims, as to mark what, for the preſent, they are content to leave to others. They made, not laws, not Con⯑ventions, not late poſſeſſion, but phyſical nature, and political convenience, the ſole foundation of their claims. The Rhine, the Mediterra⯑nean, and the ocean were the bounds which, for the time, they aſſigned to the Empire of Regicide. What was the Chamber of Union of Louis the Fourteenth, which aſtoniſhed and provoked all Europe, compared to this declara⯑tion? In truth, with theſe limits, and their prin⯑ciple, they would not have left even the ſhadow of liberty or ſafety to any nation. This plan of em⯑pire was not taken up in the firſt intoxication of unexpected ſucceſs. You muſt recollect, that it was projected, juſt as the report has ſtated it, from the very firſt revolt of the faction againſt their Monarchy; and it has been uniformly purſued, as a ſtanding maxim of national policy, from that time to this. It is, generally, in the ſeaſon of proſ⯑perity that men diſcover their real temper, prin⯑ciples, and deſigns. But this principle ſug⯑geſted in their firſt ſtruggles, fully avowed in their proſperity, has, in the moſt adverſe ſtate of their affairs, been tenaciouſly adhered to. The report, [30] combined with their conduct, forms an infallible criterion of the views of this Republick.

In their fortune there has been ſome fluctuation. We are to ſee how their minds have been af⯑fected with a change. Some impreſſion it made on them undoubtedly. It produced ſome oblique notice of the ſubmiſſions that were made by ſup⯑pliant nations. The utmoſt they did, was to make ſome of thoſe cold, formal, general profeſſions of a love of peace which no Power has ever refuſed to make; becauſe they mean little, and coſt nothing. The firſt paper I have ſeen (the publication at Hamburgh) making a ſhew of that pacific diſpo⯑ſition, diſcovered a rooted animoſity againſt this nation, and an incurable rancour, even more than any one of their hoſtile acts. In this Ham⯑burgh declaration, they chooſe to ſuppoſe, that the war, on the part of England, is a war of Go⯑vernment, begun and carried on againſt the ſenſe and intereſts of the people; thus ſowing in their very overtures towards peace, the ſeeds of tumult and ſedition: for they never have abandoned, and never will they abandon, in peace, in war, in treaty, in any ſituation, or for one inſtant, their old ſteady maxim of ſeparating the people from their Go⯑vernment. Let me add—and it is with unfeign⯑ed anxiety for the character and credit of Mi⯑niſters that I do add—if our Government per⯑ſeveres, [31] in its as uniform courſe, of acting un⯑der inſtruments with ſuch preambles, it pleads guilty to the charges made by our enemies againſt it, both on it's own part, and on the part of par⯑liament itſelf. The enemy muſt ſucceed in his plan for looſening and diſconnecting all the inter⯑nal holdings of the kingdom.

It was not enough, that the Speech from the Throne in the opening of the ſeſſion in 1795, threw out oglings and glances of tenderneſs. Leſt this coquetting ſhould ſeem too cold and ambigu⯑ous, without waiting for it's effect, the violent paſ⯑ſion for a relation to the Regicides, produced a di⯑rect Meſſage from the Crown, and it's conſequences from the two Houſes of Parliament. On the part of the Regicides theſe declarations could not be entirely paſſed by without notice: but in that notice they diſcovered ſtill more clearly the bot⯑tom of their character. The offer made to them by the meſſage to Parliament was hinted at in their anſwer; but in an obſcure and ob⯑lique manner as before. They accompanied their notice of the indications manifeſted on our ſide, with every kind of inſolent and taunting reflec⯑tion. The Regicide Directory, on the day which, in their gipſey jargon, they call the 5th of Pluvioſe, in return for our advances, charge us with elud⯑ing our declarations under ‘"evaſive formalities [32] and frivolous pretexts."’What theſe pretexts and evaſions were, they do not ſay, and I have never heard. But they do not reſt there. They pro⯑ceed to charge us, and, as it ſhould ſeem, our allies in the maſs, with direct perfidy; they are ſo conciliatory in their language as to hint that this perfidious character is not new in our proceedings. However, notwithſtanding this our habitual per⯑fidy, they will offer peace ‘"on conditions as mo⯑derate"’—as what? as reaſon and as equity re⯑quire? No! as moderate ‘"as are ſuitable to their national dignity."’ National dignity in all treaties I do admit is an important conſideration. They have given us an uſeful hint on that ſubject: but dignity, hitherto, has belonged to the mode of proceeding, not to the matter of a treaty. Ne⯑ver before has it been mentioned as the ſtandard for rating the conditions of peace; no, never by the moſt violent of conquerors. Indemnification is capable of ſome eſtimate; dignity has no ſtandard. It is impoſſible to gueſs what acquiſitions pride and ambition may think fit for their dignity. But leſt any doubt ſhould remain on what they think for their dignity, the Regicides in the next paragraph tell us ‘"that they will have no peace with their enemies, until they have reduced them to a ſtate, which will put them under an impoſſibility of purſuing their wretched projects;"’ that is, in plain French or Engliſh, until they have accom⯑pliſhed [33] our utter and irretrievable ruin. This is their pacific language. It flows from their unalter⯑able principle in whatever language they ſpeak, or whatever ſteps they take, whether of real war, or of pretended pacification. They have never, to do them juſtice, been at much trouble in concealing their intentions. We were as obſtinately re⯑ſolved to think them not in earneſt: but I confeſs jeſts of this ſort, whatever their urbanity may be, are not much to my taſte.

To this conciliatory and amicable publick com⯑munication, our ſole anſwer, in effect, is this— "Citizen Regicides! whenever you find yourſelves in the humour, you may have a peace with us. That is a point you may always command. We are conſtantly in attendance, and nothing you can do ſhall hinder us from the renewal of our ſupplications. You may turn us out at the door; but we will jump in at the window."

To thoſe, who do not love to contemplate the fall of human greatneſs, I do not know a more mortifying ſpectacle, than to ſee the aſſembled majeſty of the crowned heads of Europe waiting as patient ſuitors in the anti-chamber of Regicide. They wait, it ſeems, until the ſanguinary tyrant Carnot, ſhall have ſnorted away the fumes of the indigeſted blood of his Sovereign. Then, when [34] ſunk on the down of uſurped pomp, he ſhall have ſufficiently indulged his meditations with what Monarch he ſhall next glut his ravening maw, he may condeſcend to ſignify that it his pleaſure to be awake; and that he is at leiſure to receive the pro⯑poſals of his high and mighty clients for the terms on which he may reſpite the execution of the ſen⯑tence he has paſſed upon them. At the opening of thoſe doors, what a ſight it muſt be to behold the plenipotentiarie of royal impotence, in the prece⯑dency which they will intrigue to obtain, and which will be granted to them according to the ſeniority of their degradation, ſneaking into the Regicide preſence, and with the reliques of the ſmile, which they had dreſſed up for the levee of their maſters, ſtill flickering on their curled lips, preſenting the faded remains of their courtly graces, to meet the ſcornful, ferocious, ſardonic grin of a bloody ruffian, who, whilſt he is receiving their homage, is meaſuring them with his eye, and fitting to their ſize the ſlider of his Guillotine! Theſe ambaſſa⯑dors may eaſily return as good courtiers as they went; but can they ever return from that degrad⯑ing reſidence, loyal and faithful ſubjects; or with any true affection to their maſter, or true attach⯑ment to the conſtitution, religion, or laws of their country? There is great dan [...]er that they who enter ſmiling into this Prophonian Cave, will come out of it ſad and ſerious conſpirators; and [35] ſuch will continue as long as they live. They will become true conductors of contagion to eve⯑ry country, which has had the misfortune to ſend them to the ſource of that electricity. At beſt they will become totally indifferent to good and evil, to one inſtitution or another. This ſpecies of indifference is but too generally diſtinguiſhable in thoſe who have been much em⯑ployed in foreign Courts; but in the preſent caſe the evil muſt be aggravated without meaſure; for they go from their country, not with the pride of the old character, but in a ſtate of the loweſt degra⯑dation; and what muſt happen in their place of reſi⯑dence can have no effect in raiſing them to the le⯑vel of true dignity, or of chaſte ſelf eſtimation, either as men, or as repreſentatives of crowned heads.

Our early proceeding, which has prod [...]ced theſe returns of affront, appeared to me totally new, with⯑out being adapted to the new circumſtances of affairs. I have called to my mind the ſpeeches and meſſages in former times. I find nothing like theſe. You will look in the journals to find whe⯑ther my memory fails me. Before this time, never was a ground of peace laid, (as it were, in a parlia⯑mentary record,) until it had been as good as con⯑cluded. This was a wiſe homage paid to the diſ⯑cretion of the Crown. It was known how much [36] a negotiation muſt ſuffer by having any thing in the train towards it prematurely diſcloſed. But when thoſe parliamentary declarations were made, not ſo much as a ſtep had been taken towards a negotiation in any mode whatever. The meaſure was an unpleaſant and unſeaſonable diſcovery.

I conceive that another circumſtance in that tranſaction has been as little authoriſed by any ex⯑ample; and that it is as little prudent in itſelf; I mean the formal recognition of the French Re⯑publick. Without entering, for the preſent, into a queſtion on the good faith manifeſted in that meaſure, or on it's general policy, I doubt, upon mere temporary conſiderations of prudence, whe⯑ther it was perfectly adviſeable. It is not within the rules of dexterous conduct to make an ac⯑knowledgment of a conteſted title in your enemy, before you are morally certain that your recogni⯑tion will ſecure his friendſhip. Otherwiſe it is a meaſure worſe than thrown away. It adds infi⯑nitely to the ſtrength, and conſequently to the de⯑mands of the adverſe party. He has gained a fundamental point without an equivalent. It has happened as might have been foreſeen. No no⯑tice whatever was taken of this recognition. In fact, the Directory never gave themſelves any con⯑cern about it; and they received our acknowledg⯑ment with perfect ſcorn. With them, it is not for [37] the States of Europe to judge of their title: But in their eye the title of every other power depends wholly on their pleaſure.

Preliminary declarations of this ſort, thrown out at random, and ſown, as it were, broad-caſt, were never to be found in the mode of our pro⯑ceeding with France and Spain, whilſt the great Monarchies of France and Spain exiſted. I do not ſay, that a diplomatick meaſure ought to be, like a parliamentary or a judicial proceeding, according to ſtrict precedent. I hope I am far from that pedantry: But this I know, that a great ſtate ought to have ſome regard to it's antient maxims; eſpecially where they indicate it's dignity; where they concur with the rules of prudence; and above all, where the circumſtances of the time require that a ſpirit of innovation ſhould be reſiſted, which leads to the humiliation of ſovereign powers. It would be ridiculous to aſſert, that thoſe powers have ſuffered nothing in their eſtimation. I admit, that the greater intereſts of ſtate will for a moment ſuperſede all other conſiderations: but if there was a rule that a ſovereign never ſhould let down his dignity without a ſure payment to his intereſt, the dignity of Kings would be held high enough. At preſent, however, faſhion governs in more ſe⯑rious things than furniture and dreſs. It looks as if ſovereigns abroad were emulous in bidding [38] againſt their eſtimation. It ſeems as if the pre-emi⯑nence of Regicide was acknowledged; and that Kings tacitly ranked themſelves below their ſacri⯑legious murderers, as natural magiſtrates and judges over them. It appears as if dignity were the prerogative of crime; and a temporiſing humiliation the proper part for venerable authority. If the vileſt of mankind are reſolved to be the moſt wick⯑ed, they loſe all the baſeneſs of their origin, and take their place above Kings. This example in fo⯑reign Princes, I truſt, will not ſpread. It is the concern of mankind, that the deſtruction of order ſhould not be a claim to rank: that crimes ſhould not be the only title to pre-eminence and honour.

At this ſecond ſtage of humiliation, (I mean the inſulting declaration in conſequence of the meſſage to both Houſes of Parliament) it might not have been amiſs to pauſe; and not to ſquander away the fund of our ſubmiſſions, until we know what final purpoſes of publick intereſt they might anſwer. The policy of ſubjecting ourſelves to fur⯑ther inſults is not to me quite apparent. It was reſolved however, to hazard a third trial. Citizen Barthelemi had been eſtabliſhed on the part of the new Republick, at Baſie; where, with his procon⯑ſulate of Switzerland and the adjacent parts of Ger⯑many, he was appointed as a ſort of factor to deal in the degradation of the crowned heads of Europe. [39] At B [...]ſle it was thought proper, in order to keep others, I ſuppoſe, in countenance, that Great Bri⯑tai [...] ſhould appear at this market, and bid with the reſt, for the mercy of the People-King.

On the [...]th of March 1796 Mr. Wickham, in con [...]equence of authority, was deſired to ſound France on her diſpoſition towards a general pacifi⯑cation; to know whether ſhe would conſent to ſend Miniſters to a Congreſs at ſuch a place as might be hereafter agreed upon; to know whether they would communi [...]ate the general grounds of a pa⯑cification ſuch as France (the diplomatick name of the Regicide power) would be willing to propoſe, as a foundation for a negociation for peace with his Majeſty and his allies: but he had no au⯑thority to enter into any neg [...]ciation or diſcuſſion with Citizen Barthelemi upon theſe ſubjects.

On the part of Great Britain this meaſure was a voluntary act, wholly uncalled for on the part of Regicide. Suits of this ſort are at leaſt ſtrong in⯑dications of a deſire for accommodation. Any other body of men but the Directory would be ſomewhat ſoothed with ſuch adva [...]ces. They could not however begin their anſwer, which was given without much delay, and communicated on the 28th of the ſame month▪ without a preamble of inſult and reproach. ‘"They doubt the ſincerity [40] of the pacifick intentions of this Court."’She did not begin, ſay they, yet to ‘"know her real inte⯑reſts."’ ‘"ſhe did not ſeek peace with good faith."’This, or ſomething to this effect, has been the con⯑ſtant preliminary obſervation, (now grown into a ſort of office-form) on all our overtures to this power: a perpetual charge on the Britiſh Govern⯑ment of fraud, evaſion, and habitual perfidy.

It might be aſked, from whence did theſe opi⯑nions of our inſincerity and ill faith ariſe? It was, becauſe the Britiſh Miniſtry (leaving to the Direc⯑tory however to propoſe a better mode) propoſed a Congreſs for the purpoſe of a general pacification, and this they ſaid ‘"would render negociation end⯑leſs."’From hence they immediately inferred a fraudulent intention in the offer. Unqueſtionably their mode of giving the law would bring matters to a more ſpeedy concluſion. As to any other me⯑thod more agreeable to them than a Congreſs, an alternative expreſsly propoſed to them, they did not condeſcend to ſignify their pleaſure.

This refuſal of treating conjointly with the pow⯑ers allied againſt this Republick, furniſhes matter for a great deal of ſerious reflexion. They have hitherto conſtantly declined any other than a treaty with a ſingle power. By thus diſſociating every State from every other, like deer ſeparated [41] from the herd, each power is treated with, on the merit of his being a deſerter from the common cauſe. In that light the Regicide power finding each of them inſulated and unprotected, with great facility gives the law to them all. By this ſyſtem for the preſent, an incurable diſtruſt is ſown amongſt confederates; and in future all alliance is rendered impracticable. It is thus they have treated with Pruſſia, with Spain, with Sardinia, with Bavaria, with the Eccleſiaſtical State, with Saxony; and here we ſee them refuſe to treat with Great Britain in any other mode. They muſt be worſe than blind who do not ſee with what undeviating regu⯑larity of ſyſtem, in this caſe and in all caſes, they purſue their ſcheme for the utter deſtruction of every independent power; eſpecially the ſmaller, who cannot find any refuge whatever but in ſome common cauſe.

Renewing their taunts and reflections, they tell Mr. Wickham, ‘"that their policy has no guides but openneſs and good faith, and that their conduct ſhall be conformable to theſe princi⯑ples"’They ſay concerning their Government, that ‘"yielding to the ardent deſire by which it is animated to procure peace for the French Re⯑publick, and for all nations, it will not fear to declare itſelf openly. Charged by the Conſtitu⯑tion with the execution of the [...], it cannot [42] make or liſten to any propoſal that would be contrary to them. The conſtitutional act does not permit it to conſent to any alienation of that which▪ according to the exiſting laws, con⯑ſtitutes the territory of the Republick."’

"With reſpect to the countries occupied by the French armies and which have not been united to France, they, as well as other intereſts political and commercial, may become the ſubject of a negociation, which will preſent to the Directory the means of proving how much it deſires to attain ſpeedily to a happy pacification. That the Directory is ready to receive in this reſpect any overtures that ſhall be juſt, reaſonable, and compatible with the dignity of the Republick." On the head of what is not to be the ſubject of negotiation, the Directory is clear and open. As to what may be a matter of treaty, all this open dealing is gone. She retires into her ſhell. There ſhe expects overtures from you—and you are to gueſs what ſhe ſhall judge juſt, reaſonable, and above all, compatible with her dignity.

In the records of pride there does not exiſt ſo inſulting a declaration. It is inſolent in words, in manner, but in ſubſtance it is not only inſulting but alarming. It is a ſpecimen of what may be expected from the maſters we are preparing for [43] our humbled country. Their openneſs and can⯑dour conſiſt in a direct avowal of their deſpotiſm and ambition. We know that their declared reſo⯑lution had been to ſurrender no obiect belonging to France previous to the war. They had reſolved, that the Republick was entire, and muſt remain ſo. As to what ſhe has conquered from the allies and united to the ſame indiviſible body, it is of the ſame nature. That is, the allies are to give up whatever conqueſts they have made or may make upon France, but all which ſhe has vio⯑lently raviſhed from her neighbours and thought fit to appropriate, are not to become ſo much as objects of negociation.

In this unity and indiviſibility of poſſeſſion are ſunk ten immenſe and wealthy provinces, full of ſtrong, flouriſhing and opulent cities, (the Auſtrian Netherlands,) the part of Europe the moſt neceſſary to preſerve any communication between this king⯑dom and its natural allies, next to Holland the moſt intereſting to this country, and without which Holland muſt virtually belong to France. Savoy and Nice, the keys of Italy, and the cita⯑del in her hands to bridle Switzerland, are in that conſolidation. The important territory of Leige is torn out of the heart of the Empire. All theſe are integrant parts of the Republick, not to be ſubject to any diſcuſſion, or to be purchaſed [44] by any equivalent. Why? becauſe there is a law which prevents it. What law? The law of nations? The acknowledged public law of Europe? Treaties and conventions of parties? No! not a pretence of the kind. It is a declaration not made in conſe⯑quence of any preſcription on her ſide, not on any ceſſion or dereliction, actual or tacit, of other pow⯑ers. It is a declaration pendente lite in the middle of a war, one principal object of which was origi⯑nally the defence, and has ſince been the recovery of theſe very countries.

This ſtrange law is not made for a trivial object, not for a ſingle port, or for a ſingle fortreſs; but for a great kingdom; for the religion, the morals, the laws, the liberties, the lives and fortunes of millions of human creatures, who without their conſent, or that of their lawful government, are, by an arbitrary act of this regicide and homicide Government, which they call a law, incorporated into their tyranny.

In other words, their will is the law, not only at home, but as to the concerns of every na⯑tion. Who has made that law but the Regicide Republick itſelf, whoſe laws, like thoſe of the Medes and Perſians, they cannot alter or abrogate, or even ſo much as take into conſideration? With⯑out the leaſt ceremony or compliment, they have [45] ſent out of the world whole ſets of laws and law⯑givers. They have ſwept away the very conſtitu⯑tions under which the Legiſlatures acted, and the Laws were made. Even the fundamental ſacred rights of man they have not ſcrupled to profane. They have ſet this holy code at nought with igno⯑miny and ſcorn. Thus they treat all their domeſ⯑tick laws and conſtitutions, and even what they had conſidered as a Law of Nature; but whatever they have put their ſeal on for the purpoſes of their ambition, and the ruin of their neighbours, this alone is invulnerable, impaſſible, immortal. Aſſuming to be maſters of every thing human and divine, here, and here alone, it ſeems they are li⯑mited, ‘"cooped and cabined in;"’and this omnipo⯑tent legiſlature finds itſelf wholly without the power of exerciſing it's favourite attribute, the love of peace. In other words, they are powerful to uſurp, impotent to reſtore; and equally by their power and their impotence they aggrandize themſelves, and weaken and impoveriſh you and all other nations.

Nothing can be more proper or more manly than the ſtate publication called a note on this pro⯑ceeding, dated Downing-ſtreet, the 10th of April, 1796. Only that it is better expreſſed, it perfectly agrees with the opinion I have taken the liberty of [46] ſubmitting to your conſideration.^* I place it be⯑low at full length as my juſtification in thinking that this aſtoniſhing paper from the Directory is not only a direct negative, to all treaty, but is a rejection of every principle upon which treaties could be made. To admit it for a moment were to erect this power, uſurped at home, into a Legiſlature to govern [47] mankind. It is an authority that on a thouſand oc⯑caſions they have aſſerted in claim, and whenever they are able, exerted in practice. The dereliction of this whole ſcheme of policy became, therefore, an indiſpenſible previous condition to all renewal of treaty. The remark of the Britiſh Cabinet on this arrogant and tyrannical claim is natural and unavoidable. Our Miniſtry ſtate, ‘"That while theſe diſpoſitions ſhall be perſiſted in, nothing is left for the King but to proſecute a war that is juſt and neceſſary."’

It was of courſe, that we ſhould wait until the enemy ſhewed ſome ſort of diſpoſition on his part to fulfil this condition. It was hoped in⯑deed that our ſuppliant ſtrains might be ſuffered to ſteal into the auguſt ear in a more propitious ſeaſon. That ſeaſon, however, invoked by ſo many vows, conjurations and prayers, did not come. Every declaration of hoſtility renovated, and every act purſued with double animoſity—the over-run⯑ning of Lombardy—the ſubjugation of Piedmont— the poſſeſſion of its impregnable fortreſſes—the ſeizing on all the neutral ſtates of Italy—our expul⯑ſion from Leghorn—inſtances for ever renewed, for our expulſion from Genoa—Spain rendered ſubject to them and hoſtile to us—Portugal bent under the yoke—half the Empire over-run and ravaged, were the only ſigns which this mild Republick thought proper to manifeſt of her pacific ſentiments. [48] Every demonſtration of an implacable rancour and an untameable pride were the only encouragements we received to the renewal of our ſupplications.

Here therefore they and we were fixed. Nothing was left to the Britiſh Miniſtry but ‘"to proſecute a war juſt and neceſſary"’—a war equally juſt as at the time of our engaging in it—a war become ten times more neceſſary by every thing which happened afterwards. This reſolution was ſoon, however, forgot. It felt the heat of the ſeaſon and melted away. New hopes were entertained from ſupplication. No expectations, indeed, were then formed from renewing a direct application to the French Regicides through the Agent General for the humiliation of Sovereigns. At length a ſtep was taken in degradation which even went lower than all the reſt. Deficient in merits of our own, a Mediator was to be ſought—and we looked for that Mediator at Berlin! The King of Pruſſia's merits in abandoning the general cauſe might have obtained for him ſome ſort of influence in favour of thoſe whom he had deſerted—but I have never heard that his Pruſſian Majeſty had lately diſco⯑vered ſo marked an affection for the Court of St. James's, or for the Court of Vienna, as to excite much hope of his interpoſing a very powerful me⯑diation to deliver them from the diſtreſſes into which he had brought them.

[49]If humiliation is the element in which we live, if it is become not only our occaſional policy but our habit, no great objection can be made to the modes in which it may be diverſified; though, I confeſs, I cannot be charmed with the idea of our expoſing our lazar ſores at the door of every proud ſervitor of the French Republick, where the court-dogs will not deign to lick them. We had, if I am not miſtaken, a miniſter at that cour [...], who might try it's temper, and recede and advance as he found backwardneſs or encouragement. But to ſend a gentleman there on no other errand than this, and with no aſſurance whatever that he ſhould not find, what he did find, a repulſe, ſeems to me to go far beyond all the demands of a humiliation merely politick. I hope, it did not ariſe from a predeliction for that mode of conduct.

The cup of bitterneſs was not, however, drained to the dregs. Baſle and Berlin were not ſufficient. After ſo many and ſo diverſified repulſes, we were reſolved to make another experiment, and to try another Mediator. Among the unhappy gentlemen in whoſe perſons Royalty is inſulted and degraded at the ſeat of plebeian pride, and upſtart inſolence, there is a miniſter from Denmark at Paris. Without any previous encouragement to that, any more than the other ſteps, we ſent through this [50] turnpike to demand a paſſport for a perſon who on our part was to ſolicit peace in the metropolis, at the footſtool of Regicide itſelf. It was not to be expected that any one of thoſe degraded beings could have influence enough to ſettle any part of the terms in favour of the candidates for further degradation; beſides, ſuch intervention would be a direct breach in their ſyſtem, which did not per⯑mit one ſovereign power to utter a word in the concerns of his equal.—Another repulſe.—We were deſired to apply directly in our perſons.— We ſubmitted and made the application.

It might be thought that here, at length, we had touched the bottom of humiliation; our lead was brought up covered with mud. But ‘"in the loweſt deep, a lower deep"’ was to open for us ſtill more profound abyſſes of diſgrace and ſhame. However, in we leaped. We came forward in our own name. The paſſport, ſuch a paſſport and ſafe conduct as would be granted to thieves, who might come in to betray their accomplices, and no better, was granted to Britiſh ſupplication. To leave no doubt of it's ſpirit, as ſoon as the rumour of this act of condeſcenſion could get abroad, it was for⯑mally announced with an explanation from autho⯑rity, containing an invective againſt the Miniſtry of Great-Britain, their habitual frauds, their pro⯑verbial, punick perfidy. No ſuch State Paper, as a [51] preliminary to a negociation for peace has ever yet appeared. Very few declarations of war have ever ſhewn ſo much and ſo unqualified animoſity. I place it below ^* as a diplomatick curioſity, and in order to be the better underſtood, in the few remarks [52] I have to make upon a piece which indeed defies all deſcription— ‘"None but itſelf can be it's pa⯑rallel."’

I paſs by all the inſolence and contumely of the performance, as it comes from them. The preſent queſtion is not how we are to be affected with it [53] in regard to our dignity. That is gone. I ſhall ſay n [...] more about it. Light lie the earth on the aſhes of Engliſh prid [...]. I ſhall only obſerve upon it politically, and as furniſhing a direction for our own conduct in this low buſineſs.

The very idea of a negociation for peace, what⯑ever the inward ſentiments of the parties may be, implies ſome confidence in their faith, ſome de⯑gree of belief in the profeſſions which are made concerning it. A temporary and occaſional credit, at leaſt, is granted. Otherwiſe men ſtumble on the very threſhold. I therefore wiſh to aſk what hope we can have of their good faith, who, as the very baſis of the negociation, aſſume the ill faith and treachery of thoſe they have to deal with? The terms, as againſt us, muſt be ſuch as imply a full ſecurity againſt a treacherous conduct—that is, ſuch terms as this Directory ſtated in it's firſt de⯑claration, to place us ‘"in an utter impoſſibility of executing our wretched projects."’ This is the omen, and the ſole omen, under which we have conſented to open our treaty.

The ſecond obſervation I have to make upon it, (much connected undoubtedly with the firſt,) is, that they have informed you of the reſult they propoſe from the kind of peace they mean to grant you; that is to ſay, the union they propoſe among [54] nations with the view, of rivalling our trade and deſtroying our naval power: and this they ſup⯑poſe (and with good reaſon too) muſt be the inevitable effect of their peace. It forms one of their principal grounds for ſuſpecting our Mini⯑ſters could not be in good earneſt in their propo⯑ſition. They make no ſcruple beforehand to tell you the whole of what they intend; and this is what we call, in the modern ſtyle, the acceptance of a propoſition for peace! In old language it would be called a moſt haughty, offenſive, and in⯑ſolent rejection of all treaty.

Thirdly, they tell you what they conceive to be the perfidious policy which dictates your deluſive offer; that is, the deſign of cheating not only them, but the people of England, againſt whoſe intereſt and inclination this war is ſuppoſed to be carried on.

If we proceed in this buſineſs, under this preli⯑minary declaration, it ſeems to me, that we admit, (now for the third time) by ſomething a great deal ſtronger than words, the truth of the charges of every kind which they make upon the Britiſh Mi⯑niſtry, and the grounds of thoſe foul imputations. The language uſed by us, which in other circum⯑ſtances would not be exceptionable, in this caſe tends very ſtrongly to confirm and realize the ſuſ⯑picion [55] of our enemy. I mean the declaration, that if we do not obtain ſuch terms of peace as ſuits our opinion of what our intereſts require, then, and in that caſe, we ſhall continue the war with vigour. This offer ſo reaſoned plainly implies, that without it, our leaders themſelves entertain great doubts of the opinion and good affections of the Britiſh people; otherwiſe there does not appear any cauſe, why we ſhould proceed under the ſcan⯑dalous conſtruction of our enemy, upon the for⯑mer offer made by Mr. Wickham, and on the new offer made directly at Paris. It is not, there⯑fore, from a ſenſe of dignity, but from the danger of radicating that falſe ſentiment in the breaſts of the enemy, that I think, under the auſpices of this declaration, we cannot, with the leaſt hope of a good event, or, indeed, with any regard to the common ſafety, proceed in the train of this nego⯑ciation. I wiſh Miniſtry would ſeriouſly conſider the importance of their ſeeming to confirm the enemy in an opinion, that his frequent uſe of ap⯑peals to the people againſt their Government has not been without it's effect. If it puts an end to this war, it will render another impracticable.

Whoever goes to the directorial preſence under this paſſport, with this offenſive comment, and foul explanation, goes, in the avowed ſenſe of the Court to which he is ſent; as the inſtrument of a [56] Government diſſociated from the intereſts and wiſhes of the Nation, for the purpoſe of cheating both the people of France and the people of England. He goes out the declared emiſſary of a faithleſs Miniſ⯑try. He has perfidy for his credentials. He h [...] na⯑tional weakneſs for his full powers. I yet doubt whether any one can be found to inveſt himſelf with that character. If there ſhould, it would be pleaſant to read his inſtructions on the anſwer which he is to give to the Directory, in caſe they ſhould repeat to him the ſubſtance of the Mani⯑feſto which he carries with him in his portfolio.

So much for the firſt Manifeſto of the Regicide Court which went along with the paſſport. Left this declaration ſhould ſeem the effect of haſte, or a mere ſudden effuſion of pride and inſolence, on full deliberation, about a week after comes out a ſecond. This manifeſto, is dated he fifth of October, one day before the ſpeech from the Throne, on the vi⯑gil of the feſtive day of co [...]di [...] unanimity ſo happily celebrated by all parties in the Britiſh Parliament. In this piece the Regicides, our worthy friends, (I call them by advance and by courteſy what by law I ſhall be obliged to call them hereafter) our worthy friends, I ſay, renew and enforce the former declaration concerning our faith and ſincerity, which they pinned to our paſſport. On three other points [57] which run through all their declarations, they are more explicit than ever.

Firſt, they more directly undertake to be the real repreſentatives of the people of this kingdom: and on a ſuppoſition in which they agree with our parliamentary reformers, that the Houſe of Com⯑mons is not that Repreſentative, the function be⯑ing vacant, they, as our true conſtitutional organ, inform his Majeſty and the world of the ſenſe of the nation. They tell us that ‘"the Engliſh people ſee with regret his Majeſty's Government ſquandering away the funds which had been granted to him."’ This aſtoniſhing aſſumption of the publick voice of England, is but a ſlight foretaſte of the uſurpation which, on a peace, we may be aſſured they will make of all the powers in all the parts of our vaſ⯑ſal conſtitution. ‘"If they do theſe things in the green tree, what ſhall be done in the dry?"’

Next they tell us as a condition to our treaty, that ‘"this Government muſt abjure the unjuſt ha⯑tred it bears to them, and at laſt open it's ears to the voice of humanity."’—Truely this is, even from them, an extraordinary demand. Hitherto it ſeems we have put wax into our ears to ſhut them up againſt the tender, [...]o [...]ning ſtrains, in the affet⯑ [...]ſ [...] of humanity, warbled from the throats of Reubel, Carnot, Tallien, and the whole chorus of [58] Confiſcators, domiciliary Viſitors, Committee-men of Reſearch, Jurors and Preſidents of Revolu⯑tionary Tribunals, Regicides, Aſſaſſins, Maſſa⯑crers, and Septembrizers. It is not difficult to diſcern what ſort of humanity our Government is to learn from theſe ſyren ſingers. Our Govern⯑ment alſo, I admit with ſome reaſon, as a ſtep to⯑wards the propoſed fraternity, is required to abjure the unjuſt hatred which it bears to this body of ho⯑nour and virtue. I thank God I am neither a Mi⯑niſter nor a leader of Oppoſition. I proteſt I can⯑not do what they deſire, if I were under the guillo⯑tine, or as they ingeniouſly and pleaſantly expreſs it, ‘"looking out of the little national window."’Even at that opening I could receive none of their light. I am fortified againſt all ſuch affections by the declaration of the Government, which I muſt yet conſider as lawful, made on the 29th of October 1793^*, and ſtill ringing in my ears. [59] This declaration was tranſmitted not only to all our commanders by ſea and land, but to our Mi⯑niſters in every Court of Europe. It is the moſt eloquent and highly finiſhed in the ſtyle, the moſt [60] judicious in the choice of topicks, the moſt or⯑derly in the arrangement, and the moſt rich in the colouring, without employing the ſmalleſt degree of exaggeration, of any ſtate paper that has ever yet appeared. An ancient writer, Plutarch, I think it is, quotes ſome verſes on the eloquence of Pericles, who is called ‘"the only orator that left ſtings in the minds of his hearers."’ Like his, the eloquence of the declaration, not con⯑tradicting, but enforcing ſentiments of the trueſt humanity, has left ſtings that have penetrated more than ſkin-deep into my mind; and never can they be extracted by all the ſurgery of murder; never can the throbbings they have created, be aſſuaged by all the emollient cataplaſms of robbery and con⯑fiſcation. I cannot love the Republick.

The third point which they have more clearly expreſſed than ever, is of equal importance with [61] the reſt; and with them furniſhes a complete view of the Regicide ſyſtem. For they demand as a condition, without which our ambaſſador of obe⯑dience cannot be received with any hope of ſuc⯑ceſs, that he ſhall be ‘"provided with full powers to negociate a peace between the French Repub⯑lick and Great Britain, and to conclude it defini⯑tively between the TWO powers."’ With their ſpear they draw a circle about us. They will hear nothing of a joint treaty. We muſt make a peace ſeparately from our allies. We muſt, as the very firſt and preliminary ſtep, be guilty of that perfidy towards our friends and aſſociates, with which they reproach us in our tranſactions with them our enemies. We are called upon ſcandalouſly to betray the fundamental ſecurities to ourſelves and to all nations. In my opinion, (it is perhaps but a poor one) if we are meanly bold enough to ſend an ambaſſador ſuch as this official note of the ene⯑my requires, we cannot even diſpatch our emiſſary without danger of being charged with a breach of our alliance. Government now underſtands the full meaning of the paſſport.

Strange revolutions have happened in the ways of thinking and in the feelings of men: But, it re⯑quires a very extraordinary coalition of parties indeed, and a kind of unheard-of unanimity in publick Councils, which can impoſe this new-diſcovered [62] ſyſtem of negociation, as ſound national policy on the underſtanding of a ſpectator of this wonderful ſcene, who judges on the principles of any thing he ever before ſaw, r [...]ad, or heard of, and above all, on the underſtanding of a perſon who has had in his eye the tranſactions of the laſt ſeven years.

I know it is ſuppoſed, that if good terms of capitulation are not granted, after we have thus ſo repeatedly hung out the white flag, the national ſpirit will revive with tenfold ardour. This is an experiment cautiouſly to be made. Reculer pour mieux ſouter, according to the French by⯑word, cannot be truſted to as a general rule of con⯑duct. To diet a man into weakneſs and languor, afterwards to give him the greater ſtrength, has more of the empirick than the rational phyſician. It is true that ſome perſons have been kicked into courage; and this is no bad hint to give to thoſe who are too forward and liberal in beſtowing in⯑ſults and outrages on their paſſive companions. But ſuch a courſe does not at firſt view appear a well-choſen diſcipline to form men to a nice ſenſe of honour, or a quick reſentment of injuries. A long habit of humiliation does not ſeem a very good preparative to manly and vigorous ſenti⯑ment. It may not leave, perhaps, enough of energy in the mind fairly to diſcern what are good [63] terms or what are not. Men low and diſpirited may regard thoſe terms as not at all amiſs, which in another ſtate of mind they would think intoler⯑able: if they grow peeviſh in this ſtate of mind, they may be rouſed, not againſt the enemy whom they have been taught to fear, but againſt the Miniſtry^*, who are more within their reach, and who have refuſed conditions that are not unſeaſonable, from power that they have been taught to conſider as irreſiſtible.

If all that for ſome months I have heard have the leaſt foundation, I hope it has not, the Miniſters are, perhaps, not quite ſo much to be blamed, as their condition is to be lamented. I have been given to underſtand, that theſe pro⯑ceedings are not in their origin properly theirs. It is ſaid that there is a ſecret in the Houſe of Commons. It is ſaid that Miniſters act not accord⯑ing to the votes, but according to the diſpoſitions, of the majority. I hear that the minority has long ſince ſpoken the general ſenſe of the nation; and that to prevent thoſe who compoſe it from hav⯑ing the open and avowed lead in that houſe, or perhaps in both Houſes, it was neceſſary to pre-occupy their ground, and to take their pro⯑poſitions out of their mouths, even with the ha⯑zard [64] of being afterwards reproached with a com⯑pliance which it was foreſeen would be fruitleſs.

If the general diſpoſition of the people be, as I hear it is, for an immediate peace with Regicide, without ſo much as c [...]nſidering our publick and ſolemn engagements to the party in France whoſe cau [...]e we had eſ [...]ouſed, or the engagements ex⯑preſſed in our general alliances, not only without an enquiry into the terms, but with a certain know⯑ledge that none but the worſt terms will be offered, it is all over with us. It is ſtrange, but it may be true, that as the danger from Jacobiniſm is increaſed in my eyes and in yours, the fear of it is leſſened in the eyes of many people who formerly regarded it with horror. It ſeems, they act un⯑der the impreſſion of terrors of another ſort, which have frightened them out of their firſt appre⯑henſions. But let their fears or their hopes, or their deſires, be what they will, they ſhould recol⯑lect, that they who would make peace without a previous knowledge of the terms, make a ſurren⯑der. They are conquered. They do not treat; they receive the law. Is this the diſpoſition of the people of England? Then the people of England are contended to ſeek in the kindneſs of a foreign ſyſtematick enemy combined with a dangerous faction at home, a ſecurity which they cannot find [65] in their own patriotiſm and their own courage. They are willing to truſt to the ſympathy of Re⯑gicides, the guarantee of the Britiſh Monarchy. They are content to reſt their religion on the piety of atheiſts by eſtabliſhment. They are ſatisfied to ſeek in the clemency of practiſed murderers the ſe⯑curity of their lives. They are pleaſed to confide their property to the ſafeguard of thoſe who are robbers by inclination, intereſt, habit, and ſyſtem. If this be our deliberate mind, truly we deſerve to loſe, what it is impoſſible we ſhould long retain, the name of a nation.

In matters of State, a conſtitutional competence to act, is in many caſes the ſmalleſt part of the queſtion. Without diſputing (God forbid I ſhould diſpute) the ſole competence of the King and the Parliament, each in it's province, to decide on war and peace, I venture to ſay, no war can be long carried on againſt the will of the people. This war, in particular, cannot be carried on unleſs they are enthuſiaſtically in favour of it. Acquieſcence will not do. There muſt be zeal. Univerſal zeal in ſuch a cauſe, and at ſuch a time as this is, cannot be looked for; neither is it neceſſary. A zeal in the larger part carries the force of the whole. Without this, no Government, certainly not our Government, is capable of a great war. None of the ancient regular Governments have wherewithal [66] to fight abroad with a foreign foe, and at home to overcome repining, reluctance, and chicane. It muſt be ſome portentous thing▪ like Regicide France, that can exhibit ſuch a prodigy. Yet even ſhe, the mother of monſters, more prolifick than the country of old called Ferax monſtrorum, ſhews ſymptoms of being almoſt effete already; and ſhe will be ſo, unleſs the fallow of a peace comes to recruit her fertility. But whatever may be repreſented concerning the meanneſs of the po⯑pular ſpirit, I, for one, do not think ſo deſperately of the Britiſh nation. Our minds, as I ſaid, are light, but they are not depraved. We are dread⯑fully open to deluſion and to dejection; but we are capable of being animated and undeceived.

It cannot be concealed. We are a divided peo⯑ple. But in diviſions, where a part is to be taken, we are to make a muſter of our ſtrength. I have often endeavoured to compute and to claſs thoſe who, in any political view, are to be called the peo⯑ple. Without doing ſomething of this ſort we muſt proceed abſurdly. We ſhould not be much wiſer, if we pretended to very great accuracy in our eſtimate: But I think, in the calculation I have made, the error cannot be very material. In England and Scotland, I compute that thoſe of adult age, not declining in life, of tolerable leiſure for ſuch diſcuſſions, and of ſome means of infor⯑mation, [67] more or leſs, and who are above mental dependence, (or what virtually is ſuch) may amount to about four hundred thouſand. There is ſuch a thing as a natural repreſentative of the people. This body is that repreſentative; and on this body▪ more than on the legal conſtituent, the artificial re⯑preſentative depends. This is the Britiſh pub⯑lick; and it is a publick very numerous. The reſt, when feeble, are the objects of protection; when ſtrong, the means of force. They who affect to conſider that part of us in any other light, in⯑ſult while they cajole us; they do not want us for counſellors in deliberation, but to liſt us as ſol⯑diers for battle.

Of theſe four hundred thouſand political citi⯑zens, I look upon one fifth, or about eighty thou⯑ſand, to be pure Jacobins; utterly incapable of amendment; objects of eternal vigilance; and when they break out, of legal conſtraint. On theſe, no reaſon, no argument, no example, no vene⯑rable authority, can have the ſlighteſt influence. They deſire a change; and they will have it if they can. If they cannot have it by Engliſh cabal, they will make no ſort of ſcruple of having it by the cabal of France, into which already they are virtually incorporated. It is only their aſſured and confident expectation of the advantages of French fraternity and the approaching bleſſings of [68] Regicide intercourſe, that ſkins over their miſ⯑chievous diſpoſitions with a momentary quiet.

This minority is great and formidable. I do not know whether if I aimed at the total over⯑throw of a kingdom, I ſhould wiſh to be encum⯑bered with a larger body of partizans. They are more eaſily diſciplined and directed than if the number were greater. Theſe, by their ſpirit of intrigue, and by their reſtleſs agitating activity, are of a force far ſuperior to their num⯑bers; and if times grew the leaſt critical, have the means of debauching or intimidating many of thoſe who are now ſound, as well as of adding to their force large bodies of the more paſſive part of the nation. This minority is numerous enough to make a mighty cry for peace, or for war, or for any object they are led vehemently to deſire. By paſ⯑ſing from place to place with a velocity incredible, and diverſifying their character and deſcription, they are capable of mimicking the general voice. We muſt not always judge of the generality of the opinion by the noiſe of the acclamation.

The majority, the other four fifths, is perfectly ſound; and of the beſt poſſible diſpoſition to re⯑ligion, to government, to the true and undivided intereſt of their country. Such men are naturally diſpoſed to peace. They who are in poſſeſſion [69] of all they wiſh are languid and improvident. With this fault, (and I admit it's exiſtence in all it's extent) they would not endure to hear of a peace that led to the ruin of every thing for which peace is dear to them. However, the deſire of peace is eſſentially the weak ſide of that kind of men. All men that are ruined, are ruined on the ſide of their natural propenſities. There they are un⯑guarded. Above all, good men do not ſuſpect that their deſtruction is attempted through their virtues. This their enemies are perfectly aware of: And accordingly, they, the moſt turbulent of mankind, who never made a ſcruple to ſhake the tranquil⯑lity of their country to it's center, raiſe a continual cry for peace with France. Peace with Regicide, and war with the reſt of the world, is their motto. From the beginning, and even whilſt the French gave the blows, and we hardly oppoſed the vis inertiae to their efforts, from that day to this hour, like importunate Guinea-fowls crying one note day and night, they have called for peace.

In this they are, as I confeſs in all things they are, perfectly conſiſtent. They who wiſh to unite themſelves to your enemies, naturally deſire, that you ſhould diſarm yourſelf by a peace with theſe enemies. But it paſſes my conception, how they, who wiſh well to their country on it's antient ſyſ⯑tem [70] of laws and manners, come not to be doubly alarmed, when they find nothing but a clamor for peace, in the mouths of the men on earth the leaſt diſpoſed to it in their natural or in their habitual character.

I have a good opinion of the general abilities of the Jacobins: not that I ſuppoſe them better born than others; but ſtrong paſſions awaken the facul⯑ties. They ſuffer not a particle of the man to be loſt. The ſpirit of enterpriſe gives to this deſcription the full uſe of all their native energies. If I have reaſon to conceive that my enemy, who, as ſuch, muſt have an intereſt in my deſtruction, is alſo a perſon of diſcernment and ſagacity, then I muſt be quite ſure, that in a conteſt, the object he vio⯑lently purſues, is the very thing by which my ruin is likely to be the moſt perfectly accompliſhed. Why do the Jacobins cry for peace? Becauſe they know, that this point gained, the reſt will follow of courſe. On our part, why are all the rules of prudence, as ſure as the laws of material nature, to be at this time reverſed? How comes it, that now for the firſt time, men think it right to be governed by the counſels of their enemies? Ought they not rather to tremble, when they are perſuaded to tra⯑vel on the ſame road; and to tend to the ſame place of reſt?

[71]The minority I ſpeak of, is not ſuſceptible of an impreſſion from the topics of argument, to be uſed to the larger part of the community. I therefore do not addreſs to them any part of what I have to ſay. The more forcibly I drive my arguments againſt their ſyſtem, ſo as to make an impreſſion where I wiſh to make it, the more ſtrongly I rivet them in their ſentiments. As for us, who compoſe the far larger, and what I call the far better part of the people; let me ſay, that we have not been quite fairly dealt with when called to this deli⯑beration. The Jacobin minority have been abun⯑dantly ſupplied with ſtores and proviſions of all kinds towards their warfare. No ſort of argumen⯑tative materials, ſuited to their purpoſes, have been withheld. Falſe they are, unſound, ſophiſtical; but they are regular in their direction. They all bear one way; and they all go to the ſupport of the ſubſtantial merits of their cauſe. The others have not had the queſtion ſo much as fairly ſtated to them.

There has not been in this century, any foreign peace or war, in it's origin, the fruit of popular deſire; except the war that was made with Spain in 1739. Sir Robert Walpole was forced into the war by the people, who were inflamed to this meaſure by the moſt leading politicians, by the firſt orators, and the greateſt poets of [72] the time. For that war, Pope ſung his dying notes. For that war, Johnſon, in more energetic ſtrains, employed the voice of his early genius. For that war, Glover diſtinguiſhed himſelf in the way in which his muſe was the moſt natural and happy. The crowd readily followed the politi⯑cians in the cry for a war, which threatened little bloodſhed, and which promiſed victories that were attended with ſomething more ſolid than glory. A war with Spain was a war of plunder. In the preſent conflict with Regicide, Mr. Pitt has not hitherto had, nor will perhaps for a few days have, many prizes to hold out in the lottery of war, to tempt the lower part of our character. He can only maintain it by an ap⯑peal to the higher; and to thoſe, in whom that higher part is the moſt predominant, he muſt look the moſt for his ſupport. Whilſt he holds out no inducements to the wiſe, nor bribes to the avari⯑cious, he may be forced by a vulgar cry into a peace ten times more ruinous than the moſt diſ⯑aſtrous war. The weaker he is in the fund of mo⯑tives which apply to our avarice, to our lazineſs, and to our laſſitude, if he means to carry the war to any end at all, the ſtronger he ought to be in his addreſſes to our magnanimity and to our reaſon.

In ſtating that Walpole was driven by a popular clamour into a meaſure not to be juſtified, I do [78] not mean wholly to excuſe his conduct. My time of obſervation did not exactly coincide with that event; but I read much of the controverſies then carried on. Several years after the conteſts of par⯑ties had ceaſed, the people were amuſed, and in a degree warmed with them. The events of that aera ſeemed then of magnitude, which the revolu⯑tions of our time have reduced to parochial im⯑portance; and the debates, which then ſhook the nation, now appear of no higher moment than a diſcuſſion in a veſtry. When I was very young, a general faſhion told me I was to admire ſome of the writings againſt that Miniſter; a little more maturity taught me as much to deſpiſe them. I obſerved one fault in his general proceeding. He never manfully put forward the entire ſtrength of his cauſe. He temporiſed; he managed; and adopting very nearly the ſentiments of his adverſaries, he oppoſed their inferences. This, for a po⯑litical commander, is the choice of a weak poſt. His adverſaries had the better of the argument, as he handled it, not as the reaſon and juſtice of his cauſe enabled him to manage it. I ſay this, after having ſeen, and with ſome care examined, the ori⯑ginal documents concerning certain important tranſactions of thoſe times. They perfectly ſatisfied me of the extreme injuſtice of that war, and of the falſehood of the colours, which to his own ruin, and guided by a miſtaken policy, he ſuf⯑fered [74] to be daubed over that meaſure. Some years after, it was my fortune to converſe with many of the principal actors againſt that Miniſter, and with thoſe, who principally excited that clamour. None of them, no not one, did in the leaſt defend the meaſure, or attempt to juſtify their conduct. They condemned it as freely as they would have done in commenting upon any proceeding in hiſ⯑tory, in which they were totally unconcerned. Thus it will be. They who ſtir up the people to improper deſires, whether of peace or war, will be condemned by themſelves. They who weakly yield to them will be condemned by hiſtory.

In my opinion, the preſent Miniſtry are as far from doing full juſtice to their cauſe in this war, as Walpole was from doing juſtice to the peace which at that time he was willing to preſerve. They throw the light on one fide only of their caſe; though it is impoſſible they ſhould not obſerve, that the other fide which is kept in the ſhade, has it's importance too. They muſt know, that France is formidable, not only as ſhe is France, but as ſhe is Jacobin France. They knew from the beginning that the Jacobin party was not confined to that country. They knew, they felt▪ the ſtrong diſpoſition of the ſame faction in both countries to communicate and to co⯑operate. For ſome time paſt, theſe two points [75] have been kept, and even induſtriouſly kept, out of ſight. France is conſidered as merely a foreign Power; and the ſeditious Engliſh only as a domeſ⯑tick faction. The merits of the war with the for⯑mer have been argued ſolely on political grounds. To prevent the miſchievous doctrines of the latter, from corrupting our minds, matter and argument have been ſupplied abundantly, and even to ſur⯑feit, on the excellency of our own government. But nothing has been done to make us feel in what manner the ſafety of that Government is connected with the principle and with the iſſue of this war. For any thing, which in the late diſ⯑cuſſion has appeared, the war is entirely collateral to the ſtate of Jacobiniſm; as truly a foreign war to us and to all our home concerns, as the war with Spain in 1739, about Garda-Coſtas, the Madrid Convention, and the fable of Captain Jenkins's ears.

Whenever the adverſe party has raiſed a cry for peace with the Regicide, the anſwer has been little more than this, ‘"that the Adminiſtration wiſhed for ſuch a peace, full as much as the Oppoſition; but that the time was not convenient for making it."’ Whatever elſe has been ſaid was much in the ſame ſpirit. Reaſons of this kind never touched the ſub⯑ſtantial merits of the war. They were in the na⯑ture of dilatory pleas, exceptions of form, pre⯑vious [76] queſtions. Accordingly all the arguments againſt a compliance with what was repreſented as the popular deſire, (urged on with all poſſi⯑ble vehemence and earneſtneſs by the Jacobins) have appeared flat and languid, feeble and eva⯑ſive. They appeared to aim only at gaining time. They never entered into the peculiar and diſtinctive character of the war. They ſpoke neither to the underſtanding nor to the heart. Cold as ice themſelves, they never could kindle in our breaſts a ſpark of that zeal, which is neceſſary to a conflict with an adverſe zeal; much leſs were they made to infuſe into our minds, that ſtubborn perſevering ſpirit, which alone is capable of bearing up againſt thoſe viciſſitudes of fortune, which will probably occur, and thoſe burthens which muſt be inevitably borne in a long war. I ſpeak it empha⯑tically, and with a deſire that it ſhould be marked, in a long war; becauſe, without ſuch a war, no ex⯑perience has yet told us, that a dangerous power has ever been reduced to meaſure or to reaſon. I do not throw back my view to the Peloponneſian war of twenty-ſeven years; nor to two of the Pu⯑nick wars, the firſt of twenty-four, the ſecond of eighteen; nor to the more recent war concluded by the treaty of Weſtphalia, which continued, I think, for thirty. I go to what is but juſt fallen behind living memory, and immediately touches our own country. Let the portion of our hiſtory [77] from the year 1689 to 1713 be brought before us, We ſhall find, that in all that period of twenty-four years, there were hardly five that could be called a ſeaſon of peace; and the interval between the two wars was in reality, nothing more than a very ac⯑tive preparation for renovated hoſtility. During that period, every one of the propoſitions of peace came from the enemy: The firſt, when they were ac⯑cepted, at the peace of Ryſwick; The ſecond, where they were rejected at the congreſs at Ger⯑truydenburgh; The laſt, when the war ended by the treaty of Utrecht. Even then, a very great part of the nation, and that which contained by far the moſt intelligent ſtateſmen, was againſt the concluſion of the war. I do not enter into the merits of that queſtion as between the parties. I only ſtate the exiſtence of that opinion as a fact, from whence you may draw ſuch an inference as you think properly ariſes from it.

It is for us at preſent to recollect what we have been; and to conſider what, if we pleaſe, we may be ſtill. At the period of thoſe wars, our principal ſtrength was found in the reſolution of the people; that in the reſolution of a part only and of the then whole, which bore no proportion to our exiſting magnitude. England and Scotland were not united at the beginning of that mighty ſtruggle. When, in the courſe of the conteſt, [78] they were conjoined, it was in a raw, an ill-ce⯑mented, an unproductive union. For the whole duration of the war, and long after, the names, and other outward and viſible ſigns of approximation, rather augmented than diminiſhed our inſular feuds. They were rather the cauſes of new diſcon⯑tents and new troubles, than promoters of cordia⯑lity and affection. The now ſingle and potent Great Britain was then not only two countries, but, from the party heats in both, and the divi⯑ſions formed in each of them, each of the old king⯑doms within itſelf in effect was made up of two hoſtile nations. I [...]eland, now ſo large a ſource of the common opulence and power, which wiſely managed might be made much more beneficial and much more effective, was then the heavieſt of the burthens. An army not much leſs than forty thouſand men, was drawn from the general effort, to keep that kingdom in a poor, unfruitful, and re⯑ſourceleſs ſubjection.

Such was the ſtate of the empire. The ſtate of our finances was worſe, if poſſible. Every branch of the revenue became leſs productive after the Revolution. Silver, not as now a ſort of coun⯑ter, but the body of the current coin, was reduced ſo low, as not to have above three parts in four of the value in the ſhilling. It required a dead ex⯑pence of three millions ſterling to renew the coin [79] age. Publick credit, that great but ambiguous principle, which has ſo often been predicted as the cauſe of our certain ruin, but which for a century has been the conſtant companion, and often the means, of our proſperity and greatneſs, had it's ori⯑gin, and was cradled, I may ſay, in bankruptcy and beggary. At this day we have ſeen parties contending to be admitted, at a moderate premi⯑um, to advance eighteen millions to the Exchequer. For infinitely ſmaller loans, the Chancellor of the Exchequer of that day, Montagu, the father of publick credit, counter-ſecuring the State by the appearance of the city, with the Lord-Mayor of London at his ſide, was obliged, like an agent at an election, to go cap in hand from ſhop to ſhop, to borrow an hundred pound and even ſmaller ſums. When made up in driblets as they could, their beſt ſecurities were at an intereſt of 12 per cent. Even the paper of the Bank (now at par with caſh, and even ſometimes preferred to it) was often at a diſcount of twenty per cent. By this the ſtate of the reſt may be judged.

As to our commerce, the imports and exports of the nation, now ſix and forty million, did not then amount to ten. The inland trade, which is com⯑monly paſſed by in this ſort of eſtimates, but which, in part growing out of the foreign, and connected with it, is more advantageous, and more ſubſtan⯑tially [80] nutritive to the State, is not only grown in a proportion of near five to one as the foreign, but has been augmented, at leaſt, in a tenfold pro⯑portion. When I came to England, I remem⯑ber but one river navigation, the rate of car⯑riage on which was limited by an Act of Parlia⯑ment. It was made in the reign of William the Third; I mean that of the Aire and Calder. The rate was ſettled at thirteen pence. So high a price demonſtrated the feebleneſs of theſe beginnings of our inland intercouſe. In my time, one of the longeſt and ſharpeſt conteſts I remember in your Houſe, and which rather reſembled a violent con⯑tention amongſt national parties than a local diſ⯑pute, was, as well as I can recollect, to hold the price up to threepence. Even this, which a very ſcanty juſtice to the proprietors required, was done with infinite difficulty. As to private credit, there were not, as I beſt remember, twelve Bankers ſhops at that time out of London. In this their number, when I firſt faw the country, I cannot be quite ex⯑act; but certainly thoſe machines of domeſtick credit were then very few indeed. They are now in almoſt every market town: and this cir⯑cumſtance (whether the thing be carried to an ex⯑ceſs or not) demonſtrates the aſtoniſhing en⯑creaſe of private confidence, of general circula⯑tion, and of internal commerce; an encreaſe out of all proportion to the growth of the foreign trade. [81] Our naval ſtrength in the time of King William's war was nearly matched by that of France; and though conjoined with Holland, then a maritime Power hardly inferior to our own, even with that force we were not always victorious. Though finally ſuperior, the allied fleets experienced many unpleaſant reverſes on their own element. In two years three thouſand veſſels were taken from the Engliſh trade. On the continent we loſt almoſt every battle we fought.

In 1697, it is not quite an hundred years ago, in that ſtate of things, amidſt the general debaſe⯑ment of the coin, the fall of the ordinary reve⯑venue, the failure of all the extraordinary ſupplies, the ruin of commerce and the almoſt total extinc⯑tion of an infant credit, the Chancellor of the Ex⯑chequer himſelf whom we have juſt ſeen begging from door to door—came forward to move a reſo⯑lution, full of vigour, in which far from being diſ⯑couraged by the generally adverſe fortune, and the long continuance of the war, the Commons agreed to addreſs the Crown in the following manly, ſpirited, and truly animating ſtyle.

This is the EIGHTH year in which your Ma⯑jeſty's moſt dutiful and loyal ſubjects the Com⯑mons in Parliament aſſembled, have aſſiſted your Majeſty with large ſupplies for carrying on a juſt [82] and neceſſary war, in defence of our religion, and preſervation of our laws, and vindication of the rights and liberties of the people of England.

Afterwards they proceed in this manner:— "To ſhew to your Majeſty and all Chriſtendom, that the Commons of England will not be amuſed or diverted from their firm reſolutions of obtaining by WAR, a ſafe and honourable peace, we do in the name of thoſe we repreſent, renew our aſſurances to ſupport your Majeſty and your Government againſt all your enemies at home and abroad; and that we will effectually aſſiſt you in carrying on the war againſt France."

The amuſement and diverſion they ſpeak of, was the ſuggeſtion of a treaty propoſed by the enemy, and announced from the Throne. Thus the people of England felt in the eighth, not in the fourth year of the war. No ſighing or panting af⯑ter negociation; no motions from the Oppoſition to force the Miniſtry into a peace; no meſſages from Miniſters to palſy and deaden the reſolution of Parliament or the ſpirit of the nation. They did not ſo much as adviſe the King to liſten to the propoſitions of the enemy, nor to ſeek for peace but through the mediation of a vigorous war. This addreſs was moved in an hot, a divided, a factious, and in a great part, diſaffected Houſe of Commons, and it was carried nemine contradicente.

[83]While that firſt war (which was ill ſmothered by the treaty of Ryſwick) ſlept in the thin aſhes of a ſeeming peace, a new conflagration was in it's im⯑mediate cauſes. A freſh and a far greater war was in preparation. A year had hardly elapſed when arrangements were made for renewing the conteſt with tenfold fury. The ſteps which were taken, at that time, to compoſe, to reconcile, to unite, and to diſcipline all Europe againſt the growth of France, certainly furniſh to a ſtateſman the fineſt and moſt intereſting part in the hiſtory of that great period. It formed the maſter-piece of King William's policy, dexterity, and perſeverance. Full of the idea of preſerving, not only a local civil li⯑berty united with order, to our country, but to embody it in the political liberty, the order, and the independence of nations united under a natu⯑ral head, the King called upon his Parliament to put itſelf into a poſture ‘"to preſerve to England the weight and influence it at preſent had on the coun⯑cils and affairs ABROAD. It will be requiſite Eu⯑rope ſhould ſee you will not be wanting to your⯑ſelves."’

Baffled as that Monarch was, and almoſt heart⯑broken at the diſappointment he met with in the mode he firſt propoſed for that great end, he held on his courſe. He was faithful to his object; and in councils, as in arms, over and over again [84] repulſed, over and over again he returned to the charge. All the mortifications he had ſuffered from the laſt Parliament, and the greater he had to apprehend from that newly choſen, were not ca⯑pable of relaxing the vigour of his mind. He was in Holland when he combined the vaſt plan of his foreign negociations. When he came to open his deſign to his Miniſters in England, even the ſober firmneſs of Somers, the undaunted reſolu⯑tion of Shrewſbury, and the adventurous ſpirit of Montagu and Orford, were ſtaggered. They were not yet mounted to the elevation of the King. The Cabinet met on the ſubject at Tun⯑bridge Wells the 28th of Auguſt, 1698; and there, Lord Somers holding the pen, after expreſ⯑ſing doubts on the ſtate of the continent, which they ultimately refer to the King, as beſt inform⯑ed, they give him a moſt diſcouraging portrait of the ſpirit of this nation. ‘"So far as relates to England," ſay theſe Miniſters, "it would be want of duty not to give your Majeſty this clear account, that there is a deadneſs and want of ſpi⯑rit in the nation univerſally, ſo as not to be at all diſpoſed to entering into a new war. That they ſeem to be tired out with taxes to a degree beyond what was diſcerned, till it appeared upon occaſion of the late elections. This is the truth of the fact upon which your Majeſty will deter⯑mine what reſolution ought to be taken."’

[85]His Majeſty did determine; and did take and purſue his reſolution. In all the tottering imbecility of a new Government, and with Parliament totally unmanageable, he perſevered. He perſevered to expel the fears of his people, by his fortitude—To ſteady their fickleneſs, by his conſtancy—To ex⯑pand their narrow prudence, by his enlarged wiſ⯑dom—To ſink their factious temper in his public ſpirit.—In ſpite of his people he reſolved to make them great and glorious; to make England, in⯑clined into ſhrink into her narrow ſelf, the Arbitreſs of Europe, the tutelary Angel of the human race. In ſpite of the Miniſters, who ſtaggered under the weight that his mind impoſed upon theirs, unſup⯑ported as they felt themſelves by the popular ſpi⯑rit, he infuſed into them his own ſoul; he renewed in them their ancient heart; he rallied them in the ſame cauſe.

It required ſome time to accompliſh this work. The people were firſt gained, and through them their diſtracted repreſentatives. Under the influence of King William Holland had reſiſted the allurements of every ſeduction, and had reſiſted the terrors of every menace. With Hannibal at her gates, ſhe had nobly and magnanimouſly refuſed all ſeparate treaty, or any thing which might for a moment appear to divide her affection or her intereſt, or even to diſtinguiſh her in identity from England. [86] Having ſettled the great point of the conſolida⯑tion (which he hoped would be eternal) of the countries made for a common intereſt, and com⯑mon ſentiment, the King, in his meſſage to both Houſes, calls their attention to the affairs of the States General. The Houſe of Lords was perfectly ſound, and entirely impreſſed with the wiſdom and dignity of the King's proceedings. In anſwer to the meſſage, which you will obſerve was narrowed to a ſingle point, (the danger of the States General) after the uſual profeſſions of zeal for his ſervice, the Lords opened themſelves at large. They go far beyond the demands of the meſſage. They expreſs themſelves as follows: "We take this occaſion further to aſſure your Majeſty, that we are ſenſible of the great and imminent danger to which the States General are expoſed. And we perfectly agree with them in be⯑lieving that their ſafety and ours are ſo inſeparably united, that whatſoever is ruin to the one muſt be fatal to the other.

We humbly deſire your Majeſty will be pleaſ⯑ed, not only to make good all the articles of any former treaties to the Sates General, but that you will enter into a ſtrict league, offenſive and de⯑fenſive, with them, for their common preſervation: and that you will invite into it all Princes and [87] States who are concerned in the preſent viſible dan⯑ger, ariſing from the union of France and Spain.

And we further deſire your Majeſty, that you will be pleaſed to enter into ſuch alliances with the Emperor, as your Majeſty ſhall think fit, purſuant to the ends of the treaty of 1689; to⯑wards all which we aſſure your Majeſty of our hearty and ſincere aſſiſtance; not doubting, but whenever your Majeſty ſhall be obliged to be engaged for the defence of your allies, and ſe⯑curing the liberty and quiet of Europe, Almighty God will protect your ſacred perſon in ſo righte⯑ous a cauſe. And that the unanimity, wealth, and courage of your ſubjects will carry your Ma⯑jeſty with honour and ſucceſs through all the difficulties of a JUST WAR."

The Houſe of Commons was more reſerved; the late popular diſpoſition was ſtill in a great degree prevalent in the repreſentative, after it had been made to change in the conſtituent body. The principle of the Grand Alliance was not directly recognized in the reſolution of the Commons, nor the war announced, though they were well aware the alliance was formed for the war. However, compelled by the returning ſenſe of the people, they went ſo far as to fix the three great immove⯑able pillars of the ſafety and greatneſs of England, [88] as they were then, as they are now, and as they muſt ever be to the end of time. They aſſerted in general terms the neceſſity of ſupporting Holland; of keeping united with our allies; and maintain⯑ing the liberty of Europe; though they reſtricted their vote to the ſuccours ſtipulated by actual treaty. But now they were fairly embarked; they were obliged to go with the courſe of the veſſel; and the whole nation, ſplit before into an hundred adverſe factions, with a King at it's head evidently declining to his tomb, the whole nation, Lords, Commons, and People, proceeded as one body, informed by one ſoul. Under the Britiſh union, the union of Europe was conſolidated; and it long held together with a degree of coheſion, firmneſs, and fidelity not known before or ſince in any po⯑litical combination of that extent.

Juſt as the laſt hand was given to this immenſe and complicated machine, the maſter workman died: But the work was formed on true mecha⯑nical principles; and it was as truly wrought. It went by the impulſe it had received from the firſt mover. The man was dead: But the grand alliance ſurvived, in which King William lived and reigned. That heartleſs and diſpirited people, whom Lord Somers had repreſented, about two years before, as dead in energy and operation▪ continued that war to which it was ſuppoſed they [89] were unequal in mind, and in means, for near thirteen years.

For what have I entered into all this detail? To what purpoſe have I recalled your view to the end of the laſt century? It has been done to ſhew that the Britiſh Nation was then a great people— to point out how and by what means they came to be exalted above the vulgar level, and to take that lead which they aſſumed among mankind. To qualify us for that pre-eminence, we had then an high mind, and a conſtancy unconquerable; we were then inſpired with no flaſhy paſſions; but ſuch as were durable as well as warm; ſuch as cor⯑reſponded to the great intereſts we had at ſtake. This force of character was inſpired, as all ſuch ſpi⯑rit muſt ever be, from above. Government gave the impulſe. As well may we fancy, that, of itſelf the ſea will ſwell, and that without winds the billows will inſult the adverſe ſhore, as that the groſs maſs of the people will be moved, and elevated, and continue by a ſteady and permanent direc⯑tion to bear upon one point, without the influence of ſuperior authority, or ſuperior mind.

This impulſe ought, in my opinion, to have been given in this war; and it ought to have been con⯑tinued to it at every inſtant. It is made, if ever war was made, to touch all the great ſprings of [90] action in the human breaſt. It ought not to have been a war of apology. The Miniſter had, in this conflict, wherewithal to glory in ſucceſs; to be conſoled in adverſity; to hold high his principle in all fortunes. If it were not given him to ſup⯑port the falling edifice, he ought to bury himſelf under the ruins of the civilized world. All the art of Greece, and all the pride and power of eaſ⯑tern Monarchs, never heaped upon their aſhes ſo grand a monument.

There were days when his great mind was up to the criſis of the world he is called to act in ^*. His manly eloquence was equal to the elevated wiſdom of ſuch ſentiments. But the little have triumphed over the great; an unnatural, (as it ſhould ſeem) not an unuſual victory. I am ſure you cannot forget with how much uneaſineſs we heard in converſation, the language of more than one gentleman at the opening of this conteſt, ‘"that he was willing to try the war for a year or two, and if it did not ſucceed, then to vote for peace."’ As if war was a matter of experiment! As if you could take it up or lay it down as an idle frolick! As if the dire goddeſs that preſides over it, with her mur⯑derous ſpear in her hand, and her gorgon at her breaſt, was a coquette to be flirted with! We ought with reverence to approach that tremendous [91] divinity, that loves courage, but commands cou [...] ⯑ſel. War never leaves, where it found a nation. It is never to be entered into without a mature deliberation; not a deliberation lengthened out into a perplexing indeciſion, but a deliberation leading to a ſure and fixed judgment. When ſo taken up it is not to be abandoned without reaſon as valid, as fully, and as extenſively conſidered. Peace may be made as unadviſedly as war. No⯑thing is ſo raſh as fear; and the counſels of puſil⯑lanimity very rarely put off, whilſt they are always ſure to aggravate, the evils from which they would fly.

In that great war carried on againſt Louis the XIVth for near eighteen years, Government ſpared no pains to ſatisfy the nation, that though they were to be animated by a deſire of glory, glory was not their ultimate object: but that every thing dear to them, in religion, in law, in liberty, every thing which as freemen, as Engliſhmen, and as ci⯑tizens of the great commonwealth of Chriſtendom, they had at heart, was then at ſtake. This was to know the true art of gaining the affections and confidence of an high-minded people; this was to underſtand human nature. A danger to avert a danger—a preſent inconvenience and ſuffer⯑ing to prevent a foreſeen future, and a worſe calamity—theſe are the motives that belong to [92] an animal, who, in his conſtitution, is at once ad⯑venturous and provident; circumſpect and daring; whom his Creator has made, as the Poet ſays, ‘"of large diſcourſe, looking before and after."’ But never can a vehement and ſuſtained ſpirit of forti⯑tude be kindled in a people by a war of calculation. It has nothing that can keep the mind erect under the guſts of adverſity. Even where men are wil⯑ling, as ſometimes they are, to barter their blood for lucre, to hazard their ſafety for the gratification of their avarice, the paſſion, which animates them to that ſort of conflict, like all the ſhort-ſighted paſ⯑ſions, muſt ſee it's objects diſtinct and near at hand. The paſſions of the lower order are hungry and im⯑patient. Speculative plunder; contingent ſpoil; fu⯑ture, long adjourned, uncertain booty; pillage which muſt enrich a late poſterity, and which poſſibly may not reach to poſterity at all; theſe, for any length of time, will never ſupport a mercenary war. The people are in the right. The calculation of profit in all ſuch wars is falſe. On balancing the ac⯑count of ſuch wars, ten thouſand hogſheads of ſugar are purchaſed at ten thouſand times their price. The blood of man ſhould never be ſhed but to redeem the blood of man. It is well ſhed for our family, for our friends, for our God, for our country, for our kind. The reſt is vanity; the reſt is crime.

[93]In the war of the Grand Alliance, moſt of theſe conſiderations voluntarily and naturally had their part. Some were preſſed into the ſervice. The political intereſt eaſily went in the track of the natural ſentiment. In the reverſe courſe the car⯑riage does not follow freely. I am ſure the na⯑tural feeling, as I have juſt ſaid, is a far more pre⯑dominant ingredient in this war, than in that of any other that ever was waged by this kingdom.

If the war made to prevent the union of two crowns upon one head was a juſt war, this, which is made to prevent the tearing all crowns from all heads which ought to wear them, and with the crowns to ſmite off the ſacred heads themſelves, this is a juſt war.

If a war to prevent Louis the XIVth from im⯑poſing his religion was juſt, a war to prevent the murderers of Louis the XVIth from impoſing their irreligion upon us is juſt; a war to prevent the ope⯑ration of a ſyſtem, which makes life without digni⯑ty, and death without hope, is a juſt war.

If to preſerve political independence and ci⯑vil freedom to nations, was a juſt ground of war; a war to preſerve national independence, property, liberty, life, and honour, from certain univerſal havock, is a war juſt, neceſſary, manly, pious; [94] and we are bound to perſevere in it by every prin⯑ciple, divine and human, as long as the ſyſtem which menaces them all, and all equally, has an exiſtence in the world.

You, who have looked at this matter with as fair and impartial an eye as can be united with a feel⯑ing heart, you will not think it an hardy aſſertion, when I affirm, that it were far better to be con⯑quered by any other nation, than to have this fac⯑tion for a neighbour. Before I felt myſelf autho⯑riſed to ſay this, I conſidered the ſtate of all the countries in Europe for theſe laſt three hundred years, which have been obliged to ſubmit to a fo⯑reign law. In moſt of thoſe I found the condition of the annexed countries even better, certainly not worſe, than the lot of thoſe which were the patrimony of the conquerour. They wanted ſome bleſſings—but they were free from many very great evils. They were rich and tranquil. Such was Artois, Flanders, Lorrain, Alſatia, un⯑der the old Government of France. Such was Sileſia under the King of Pruſſia. They who are to live in the vicinity of this new fabrick, are to pre⯑pare to live in perpetual conſpiracies and ſeditions; and to end at laſt, in being conquered, if not to her dominion, to her reſemblance. But when we talk of conqueſt by other nations, it is only to put a caſe. This is the only power in Europe by which [95] it is poſſible we ſhould be conquered. To live under the continual dread of ſuch immeaſurable evils is itſelf a grievous calamity. To live without the dread of them is to turn the danger into the diſaſter. The influence of ſuch a France is equal to a war; it's example, more waſting than an hoſ⯑tile irruption. The hoſtility with any other power is ſeparable and accidental; this power, by the very condition of it's exiſtence, by it's very eſſential conſtitution, is in a ſtate of hoſtility with us, and with all civilized people.^*

A Government of the nature of that ſet up at our very door has never been hitherto ſeen, or even imagined, in Europe. What our relation to it will be cannot be judged by other relations. It is a ſerious thing to have a connexion with a people, who live only under poſitive, arbitrary, and change⯑able inſtitutions; and thoſe not perfected nor ſup⯑plied, nor explained, by any common acknowledged rule of moral ſcience. I remember that in one of my laſt converſations with the late Lord Camden, we were ſtruck much in the ſame manner with the abolition in France of the law, as a ſcience of methodized and artificial equity. France, ſince her Revolution, is under the ſway of a ſect, whoſe leaders have deliberately, at one ſtroke, de⯑moliſhed the whole body of that juriſprudence which France had pretty nearly in common with [96] other civilized countries. In that juriſprudence were contained the elements and principles of the law of nations, the great ligament of mankind. With the law they have of courſe deſtroyed all ſeminaries in which juriſprudence was taught, as well as all the corporations eſtabliſhed for it's con⯑ſervation. I have not heard of any country, whe⯑ther in Europe or Aſia, or even in Africa on this ſide of Mount Atlas, which is wholly without ſome ſuch colleges and ſuch corporations, except France. No man, in a publick or private concern, can di⯑vine by what rule or principle her judgments are to be directed; nor is there to be found a profeſſor in any Univerſity, or a practitioner in any Court, who will hazard an opinion of what is or is not law in France, in any caſe whatever. They have not only annulled all their old treaties; but they have renounced the law of nations from whence treaties have their force. With a fixed deſign they have outlawed themſelves, and to their power outlawed all other nations.

Inſtead of the religion and the law by which they were in a great politick communion with the Chriſtian world, they have conſtructed their Republick on three baſes, all fundamentally oppo⯑ſite to thoſe on which the communities of Europe are built. It's foundation is laid in Regicide; in Jacobiniſm; and in Atheiſm; and it has joined to [97] thoſe principles, a body of ſyſtematick manners which ſecures their operation.

If I am aſked how I would be underſtood in the uſe of theſe terms, Regicide, Jacobiniſm, Atheiſm, and a ſyſtem of correſpondent manners and their eſtabliſhment, I will tell you.

I call a commonwealth Regicide, which lays it down as a fixed law of nature, and a fundamen⯑tal right of man, that all government, not being a democracy, is an uſurpation ^*. That all Kings, as ſuch, are uſurpers; and for being Kings, may and ought to be put to death, with their wives, fa⯑milies, and adherents. The commonwealth which acts uniformly upon thoſe principles; and which after aboliſhing every feſtival of religion, chooſes the moſt flagrant act of a murderous Regicide treaſon for a feaſt of eternal commemoration, and which forces all her people to obſerve it—This I call Re⯑gicide by eſtabliſhment.

[98]Jacobiniſm is the revolt of the enterpriſing ta⯑lents of a country againſt it's property. When private men form themſelves into aſſociations for the purpoſe of deſtroying the pre-exiſting laws and inſtitutions of their country; when they ſecure to themſelves an army by dividing amongſt the people of no property, the eſtates of the ancient and law⯑ful proprietors; when a ſtate recognizes thoſe acts; when it does not make confiſcations for crimes, but makes crimes for confiſcations; when it has it's principal ſtrength, and all it's reſources in ſuch a violation of property; when it ſtands chiefly upon ſuch a violation; maſſacring by judgments, or otherwiſe, thoſe who make any ſtruggle for their old legal government, and their legal, heredi⯑tary, or acquired poſſeſſions—I call this Jacobiniſm by Eſtabliſhment.

I call it Atheiſm by Eſtabliſhment, when any State, as ſuch▪ ſhall not acknowledge the exiſtence of God as a moral Governor of the World; when it ſhall offer to Him no religious or moral worſhip; —when it ſhall aboliſh the Chriſtian religion by a regular decree;—when it ſhall perſecute with a cold, unrelenting, ſteady cruelty, by every mode of confiſcation, impriſonment, exile, and death, all it's miniſters;—when it ſhall generally ſhut up, or pull down, churches; when the few buildings which re⯑main of this kind ſhall be opened only for the purpoſe [99] of making a profane apotheoſis of monſters, whoſe vices and crimes have no parallel amongſt men, and whom all other men conſider as objects of general deteſtation, and the ſevereſt animadverſion of law. When, in the place of that religion of ſocial bene⯑volence, and of individual ſelf-denial, in mockery of all religion, they inſtitute impious, blaſphemous, indecent theatric rites, in honour of their vi⯑tiated, perverted reaſon, and erect altars to the per⯑ſonification of their own corrupted and bloody Re⯑publick;—when ſchools and ſeminaries are found⯑ed at publick expence to poiſon mankind, from ge⯑neration to generation, with the horrible maxims of this impiety;—when wearied out with inceſſant martyrdom, and the cries of a people hungering and thirſting for religion, they permit it, only as a tolerated evil—I call this Atheiſm by Eſtabliſh⯑ment.

When to theſe eſtabliſhments of Regicide, of Jacobiniſm, and of Atheiſm, you add the corre⯑ſpondent ſyſtem of manners, no doubt can be left on the mind of a thinking man, concerning their determined hoſtility to the human race. Manners are of more importance than laws. Upon them, in a great meaſure the laws depend. The law touches us but here and there, and now and then. Manners are what vex or ſooth, corrupt or purify, exalt or de⯑baſe, barbarize or refine us, by a conſtant, ſteady, [100] uniform, inſenſible operation, like that of the air we breathe in. They give their whole form and colour to our lives. According to their quality, they aid morals, they ſupply them, or they totally deſtroy them. Of this the new French Legiſlators were aware; therefore, with the ſame method, and under the ſame authority, they ſettled a ſyſtem of manners, the moſt licentious, proſtitute, and abandoned that ever has been known, and at the ſame time the moſt coarſe, rude, ſavage, and fe⯑rocious. Nothing in the Revolution, no, not to a phraſe or a geſture, not to the faſhion of a hat or a ſhoe, was left to accident. All has been the reſult of deſign; all has been matter of inſti⯑tution. No mechanical means could be deviſed in favour of this incredible ſyſtem of wickedneſs and vice, that has not been employed. The nobleſt paſſions, the love of glory, the love of country, have bee debauched into means of it's preſervation and it's propagation. All ſorts of ſhews and exhibitions calculated to inflame and vitiate the imagination, and pervert the moral ſenſe, have been con⯑trived. They have ſometimes brought forth five or ſix hundred drunken women, calling at the bar of the Aſſembly for the blood of their own children, as being royaliſts or conſtitutionaliſts. Sometimes they have got a body of wretches, calling themſelves fathers, to demand the murder of their ſons: boaſting that Rome had but one Brutus, but that they could ſhew five hundred. [101] There were inſtances, in which they inverted, and retaliated the impiety, and produced ſons, who cal⯑led for the execution of their parents. The foun⯑dation of their Republick is laid in moral para⯑doxes. Their patriotiſm is always prodigy. All thoſe inſtances to be found in hiſtory, whether real or fabulous, of a doubtful publick ſpirit, at which morality is perplexed, reaſon is ſtaggered, and from which affrighted nature recoils, are their choſen, and almoſt ſole examples for the inſtruction of their youth.

The whole drift of their inſtitution is contrary to that of the wiſe Legiſlators of all countries, who aimed at improving inſtincts into morals, and at grafting the virtues on the ſtock of the natural affections. They, on the contrary, have omitted no pains to eradicate every benevolent and noble pro⯑penſity in the mind of men. In their culture it is a rule always to graft virtues on vices. They think every thing unworthy of the name of publick virtue, un⯑leſs it indicates violence on the private. All their new inſtitutions, (and with them every thing is new) ſtrike at the root of our ſocial nature. Other Legiſlators, knowing that marriage is the origin of all relations, and conſequently the firſt element of all duties, have endeavoured, by every art, to make it ſacred. The Chriſtian Religion, by confining it to the pairs, and by rendering that relation indiſſo⯑luble, [102] has, by theſe two things, done more towards the peace, happineſs, ſettlement, and civilization of the world, than by any other part in this whole ſcheme of Divine Wiſdom. The direct contrary courſe has been taken in the Synagogue of Anti⯑chriſt, I mean in that forge and manufactory of all evil, the ſect which predominated in the Conſti⯑tuent Aſſembly of 1789. Thoſe monſters em⯑ployed the ſame, or greater induſtry, to deſecrate and degrade that State, which other Legiſlators have uſed to render it holy and honourable. By a ſtrange, uncalled for declaration, they pronounced, that marriage was no better than a common, civil contract. It was one of their ordinary tricks, to put their ſentiments into the mouths of certain perſonated characters, which they theatrically ex⯑hibited at the bar of what ought to be a ſerious Aſſembly. One of theſe was brought out in the figure of a proſtitute, whom they called by the affected name of ‘"a mother without being a wife."’This creature they made to call for a repeal of the incapacities, which in civilized States are put upon baſtards. The proſtitutes of the Aſ⯑ſembly gave to this their puppet the ſanction of their greater impudence. In conſequence of the principles laid down, and the manners authoriſed, baſtards were not long after put on the footing of the iſſue of lawful unions. Proceeding in the ſpirit of the firſt authors of their conſtitution, ſuccceding aſ⯑ſemblies [103] went the full length of the principle, and gave a licence to divorce at the mere pleaſure of either party, and at a month's notice. With them the matrimonial connexion is brought into ſo de⯑graded a ſtate of concubinage, that, I believe, none of the wretches in London, who keep warehouſes of infamy, would give out one of their victims to private cuſtody on ſo ſhort and inſolent a tenure. There was indeed a kind of profligate equity in thus giving to women the ſame licentious power. The reaſon they aſſigned was as infamous as the act; declaring that women had been too long under the tyranny of parents and of huſbands. It is not ne⯑ceſſary to obſerve upon the horrible conſequences of taking one half of the ſpecies wholly out of the guardianſhip and protection of the other.

The practice of divorce, though in ſome coun⯑tries permitted, has been diſcouraged in all. In the Eaſt, polygamy and divorce are in diſcredit; and the manners correct the laws. In Rome, whilſt Rome was in it's integrity, the few cauſes al⯑lowed for divorce amounted in effect to a prohi⯑bition. They were only three. The arbitrary was totally excluded; and accordingly ſome hundreds of years paſſed, without a ſingle example of that kind. When manners were corrupted, the laws were relaxed; as the latter always follow the former, when they are not able to regulate them, [104] or to vanquiſh them. Of this circumſtance the Le⯑giſlators of vice and crime were pleaſed to take notice, as an inducement to adopt their regulation; holding out an hope, that the permiſſion would as rarely be made uſe of. They knew the contrary to be true; and they had taken good care, that the laws ſhould be well ſeconded by the manners. Their law of divorce, like all their laws, had not for it's object the relief of domeſtick uneaſineſs, but the total corruption of all morals, the total diſconnection of ſocial life.

It is a matter of curioſity to obſerve the operation of this encouragement to diſorder. I have before me the Paris paper, correſpondent to the uſual regiſter of births, marriages, and deaths. Divorce, hap⯑pily, is no regular head of regiſtry amongſt civi⯑lized nations. With the Jacobins it is remarkable, that divorce is not only a regular head, but it has the poſt of honour. It occupies the firſt place in the liſt. In the three firſt months of the year 1793, the number of divorces in that city amounted to 562. The marriages were 1785; ſo that the propor⯑tion of divorces to marriages was not much leſs than one to three; a thing unexampled, I believe, among mankind. I cauſed an enquiry to be made at Doctor's Commons, concerning the num⯑ber of divorces; and found, that all the divorces (which, except by ſpecial Act of Parliament, are [105] ſeparations, and not proper divorces) did not amount in all thoſe Courts, and in an hundred years, to much more than one fifth of thoſe that paſſed, in the ſingle city of Paris, in three months. I followed up the enquiry relative to that city through ſeveral of the ſubſequent months until I was tired, and found the proportions ſtill the ſame. Since then I have heard that they have declared for a reviſal of theſe laws: but I know of nothing done. It ap⯑pears as if the contract that renovates the world was under no law at all. From this we may take our eſtimate of the havock that has been made through all the relations of life. With the Ja⯑cobins of France, vague intercourſe is without reproach; marriage is reduced to the vileſt con⯑cubinage; children are encouraged to cut the throats of their parents; mothers are taught that tenderneſs is no part of their character; and to demonstrate their attachment to their party, that they ought to make no ſcruple to rake with their bloody hands in the bowels of thoſe who came from their own.

To all this let us join the practice of canniba⯑liſm, with which, in the proper terms, and with the greateſt truth, their ſeveral factions accuſe each other. By cannibaliſm, I mean their devour⯑ing, as a nutriment of their ferocity, ſome part of the bodies of thoſe they have murdered; their [106] drinking the blood of their victims, and forcing the victims themſelves to drink the blood of their kindred ſlaughtered before their faces. By canni⯑baliſm, I mean alſo to ſignify all their nameleſs, un⯑manly, and abominable inſults on the bodies of thoſe they ſlaughter.

As to thoſe whom they ſuffer to die a natural death, they do not permit them to enjoy the laſt con⯑ſolations of mankind, or thoſe rights of ſepulture, which indicate hope, and which meer nature has taught to mankind in all countries, to ſoothe the afflictions, and to cover the infirmity of mortal condition. They diſgrace men in the entry into life; they vitiate and enſlave them through the whole courſe of it; and they deprive them of all comfort at the concluſion of their diſhonoured and depraved exiſtence. Endeavouring to perſuade the people that they are no better than beaſts, the whole body of their inſtitution tends to make them beaſts of prey, furious and ſavage. For this purpoſe the active part of them is diſciplined into a ferocity which has no parallel. To this ferocity there is joined not one of the rude, unfaſhioned virtues, which accompany the vices, where the whole are left to grow up together in the rankneſs of uncultivated nature. But nothing is left to na⯑ture in their ſyſtems.

[107]The ſame diſcipline which hardens their hearts relaxes their morals. Whilſt courts of juſtice were thruſt out by revolutionary tribunals, and ſilent churches were only the funeral monuments of departed religion, there were no fewer than nineteen or twenty theatres, great and ſmall, moſt of them kept open at the publick expence, and all of them crowded every night. Among the gaunt, hagard forms of famine and nakedneſs, amidſt the yells of murder, the tears of affliction, and the cries of deſpair, the ſong, the dance, the mimick ſcene, the buffoon laughter, went on as regularly as in the gay hour of feſtive peace. I have it from good authority, that under the ſcaffold of judicial murder, and the gaping planks that poured down blood on the ſpectators, the ſpace was hired out for a ſhew of dancing dogs. I think, without concert, we have made the very ſame remark on reading ſome of their pieces, which being written for other purpoſes, let us into a view of their ſocial life. It ſtruck us that the habits of Paris had no reſem⯑blance to the finiſhed virtues, or to the poliſhed vice, and elegant, though not blameleſs luxury, of the capital of a great empire. Their ſociety was more like that of a den of outlaws upon a doubt⯑ful frontier; of a lewd tavern for the revels and debauches of banditti, aſſaſſins, bravos, ſmugglers, and their more deſperate paramours, mixed with bombaſtick players, the refuſe and rejected offal of ſtrolling theatres, puffing out ill-ſorted verſes [108] about virtue, mixed with the licentious and blaſ⯑phemous ſongs, proper to the brutal and hardened courſe of life belonging to that ſort of wretehes. This ſyſtem of manners in itſelf is at war with all orderly and moral ſociety, and is in it's neighbour⯑hood unſafe. If great bodies of that kind were any where eſtabliſhed in a bordering territory, we ſhould have a right to demand of their Govern⯑ments the ſuppreſſion of ſuch a nuiſance. What are we to do if the Government and the whole community is of the ſame deſcription? Yet that Government has thought proper to invite ours to lay by its unjuſt hatred, and to liſten to the voice of humanity as taught by their example.

The operation of dangerous and deluſive firſt principles obliges us to have recourſe to the true ones. In the intercourſe between nations, we are apt to rely too much on the inſtrumental part. We lay too much weight upon the formality of treaties and compacts. We do not act much more wiſely when we truſt to the intereſts of men as guarantees of their engagements. The intereſts frequently tear to pieces the engagements; and the paſſions trample upon both. Entirely to truſt to either, is to diſregard our own ſafety, or not to know mankind. Men are not tied to one an⯑other by papers and ſeals. They are led to aſſo⯑ciate by reſemblances, by conformities, by ſym⯑pathies. It is with nations as with individuals. [109] Nothing is ſo ſtrong a tie of amity between na⯑tion and nation as correſpondence in laws, cuſtoms, manners, and habits of life. They have more than the force of treaties in themſelves. They are obli⯑gations written in the heart. They approximate men to men, without their knowledge, and ſome⯑times againſt their intentions. The ſecret, unſeen, but irrefragable bond of habitual intercourſe, holds them together, even when their perverſe and liti⯑gious nature ſets them to equivocate, ſcuffle, and fight about the terms of their written obligations.

As to war, if it be the means of wrong and vio⯑lence, it is the ſole means of juſtice amongſt nations. Nothing can baniſh it from the world. They who ſay otherwiſe, intending to impoſe upon us, do not impoſe upon themſelves. But it is one of the greateſt objects of human wiſdom to mitigate thoſe evils which we are unable to remove. The confor⯑mity and analogy of which I ſpeak, incapable, like every thing elſe, of preſerving perfect truſt and tranquillity among men, has a ſtrong tendency to facilitate accommodation, and to produce a ge⯑nerous oblivion of the rancour of their quarrels. With this ſimilitude, peace is more of peace, and war is leſs of war. I will go further. There have been periods of time in which communities, appa⯑rently in peace with each other, have been more perfectly ſeparated than, in later times, many na⯑tions [110] in Europe have been in the courſe of long and bloody wars. The cauſe muſt be ſought in the ſimilitude throughout Europe of religion, laws, and manners. At bottom, theſe are all the ſame. The writers on public law have often called this aggre⯑gate of nations a Commonwealth. They had rea⯑ſon. It is virtually one great ſtate having the ſame baſis of general law; with ſome diverſity of pro⯑vincial cuſtoms and local eſtabliſhments. The na⯑tions of Europe have had the very ſame chriſtian religion, agreeing in the fundamental parts, vary⯑ing a little in the ceremonies and in the ſubordi⯑nate doctrines. The whole of the polity and oeconomy of every country in Europe has been derived from the ſame ſources. It was drawn from the old Germanic or Gothic cuſtumary; from the feudal inſtitutions which muſt be conſidered as an emanation from that cuſtumary; and the whole has been improved and digeſted into ſyſtem and diſ⯑cipline by the Roman law. From hence aroſe the ſeveral orders, with or without a Monarch, (which are called States) in every European coun⯑try; the ſtrong traces of which, where Monarchy predominated, were never wholly extinguiſhed or merged in deſpotiſm. In the few places where Monarchy was caſt off, the ſpirit of European Monarchy was ſtill left. Thoſe countries ſtill con⯑tinued countries of States; that is, of claſſes, orders, and diſtinctions, ſuch as had before ſubſiſted, or [111] nearly ſo. Indeed the force and form of the inſti⯑tution called States, continued in greater perfection in thoſe republican communities than under Mo⯑narchies. From all thoſe ſcources aroſe a ſyſtem of manners and of education which was nearly ſimilar in all this quarter of the globe; and which ſoftened, blended, and harmonized the colours of the whole. There was little difference in the form of the Univerſities for the education of their youth, whe⯑ther with regard to faculties, to ſciences, or to the more liberal and elegant kinds of erudition. From this reſemblance in the modes of intercourſe, and in the whole form and faſhion of life, no citizen of Eu⯑rope could be altogether an exile in any part of it. There was nothing more than a pleaſing variety to recreate and inſtruct the mind; to enrich the ima⯑gination; and to meliorate the heart. When a man travelled or reſided for health, pleaſure, buſineſs or neceſſity, from his own country, he never felt himſelf quite abroad.

The whole body of this new ſcheme of manners in ſupport of the new ſcheme of politicks, I con⯑ſider as a ſtrong and deciſive proof of determined ambition and ſyſtematick hoſtility. I defy the moſt refining ingenuity to invent any other cauſe for the total departure of the Jacobin Republick from every one of the ideas and uſages, religious, [112] legal, moral, or ſocial, of this civilized world, and for her tearing herſelf from its communion with ſuch ſtudied violence, but from a formed reſolution of keeping no terms with that world. It has not been, as has been falſely and inſidiouſly repreſented, that theſe miſcreants had only broke with their old Go⯑vernment. They made a ſchiſm with the whole univerſe; and that ſchiſm extended to almoſt every thing great and ſmall. For one, I wiſh, ſince it is gone thus far, that the breach had been ſo com⯑pleat, as to make all intercourſe impracticable; but partly by accident, partly by deſign, partly from the reſiſtance of the matter, enough is left to preſerve intercourſe, whilſt amity is deſtroyed or corrupted in it's principle.

This violent breach of the community of Eu⯑rope, we muſt conclude to have been made, (even if they had not expreſsly declared it over and over again) either to force mankind into an adoption of their ſyſtem, or to live in perpetual enmity with a community the moſt potent we have ever known. Can any perſon imagine, that in offering to man⯑kind this deſperate alternative, there is no indica⯑tion of a hoſtile mind, becauſe men in poſſeſſion of the ruling authority are ſuppoſed to have a right to act without coercion in their own ter⯑ritories? As to the right of men to act any where according to their pleaſure, without any moral [...]tie, no ſuch right exiſts. Men are never in [113] a ſtate of total independence of each other. It is not the condition of our nature: nor is it conceiv⯑able how any man can purſue a conſiderable courſe of action without it's having ſome effect upon others; or, of courſe, without producing ſome de⯑gree of reſponſibility for his conduct. The ſitu⯑ations in which men relatively ſtand produce the rules and principles of that reſponſibility, and afford directions to prudence in exacting it.

Diſtance of place does not extinguiſh the duties or the rights of men; but it often renders their exerciſe impracticable. The ſame circumſtance of diſtance renders the noxious effects of an evil ſyſ⯑tem in any community leſs pernicious. But there are ſituations where this difficulty does not occur; and in which, therefore, theſe duties are obligatory, and theſe rights are to be aſſerted. It has ever been the method of publick juriſts to draw a great part of the analogies on which they form the law of nations, from the principles of law which prevail in civil community. Civil laws are not all of them merely poſitive. Thoſe which are rather con⯑cluſions of legal reaſon, than matters of ſtatutable proviſion, belong to univerſal equity, and are uni⯑verſally applicable. Almoſt the whole praetorian law is ſuch. There is a Law of Neighbourhood which does not leave a man perfect maſter on his own ground. When a neighbour ſees a new erection, [114] in the nature of a nuiſance, ſet up at his door, he has a right to repreſent it to the judge; who, on his part, has a right to order the work to be ſtaid; or if eſtabliſhed, to be removed. On this head, the parent law is expreſs and clear; and has made many wiſe proviſions, which, without deſtroying, regulate and reſtrain the right of ownerſhip, by the right of vi⯑cinage. No innovation is permitted that may re⯑dound, even ſecondarily, to the prejudice of a neighbour. The whole doctrine of that important head of praetorian law, ‘"De novi operis nunciatione,"’ is founded on the principle, that no new uſe ſhould be made of a man's private liberty of operating upon his private property, from whence a detriment may be juſtly apprehended by his neighbour. This law of denunciation is proſpective. It is to anticipate what is called damnum infectum, or damnum nondum factum, that is a damage juſtly apprehended but not actually done. Even before it is clearly known, whether the innovation be da⯑mageable or not, the judge is competent to iſſue a prohibition to innovate, until the point can be de⯑termined. This prompt interference is grounded on principles favourable to both parties. It is pre⯑ventive of miſchief difficult to be repaired, and of ill blood difficult to be ſoftened. The rule of law, therefore, which comes before the evil, is amongſt the very beſt parts of equity, and juſtifies the promptneſs of the remedy; becauſe, as it is well [115] obſerved, Res damni infecti celeritatem deſiderat & periculoſa eſt dilatio. This right of denunciation does not hold, when things continue, however in⯑conveniently to the neighbourhood, according to the antient mode. For there is a ſort of preſump⯑tion againſt novelty, drawn out of a deep conſide⯑ration of human nature and human affairs; and the maxim of juriſprudence is well laid down, Vetuſtas pro lege ſemper habetur.

Such is the law of civil vicinity. Now where there is no conſtituted judge, as between indepen⯑dent ſtates there is not, the vicinage itſelf is the natural judge. It is, preventively, the aſſertor of it's own rights; or remedially, their avenger. Neigh⯑bours are preſumed to take cognizance of each other's acts. ‘"Vicini, vicinorum facta preſumuntur ſcire."’ This principle, which, like the reſt, is as true of nations, as of individual men, has beſtowed on the grand vicinage of Europe, a duty to know, and a right to prevent, any capital innovation which may amount to the erection of a dangerous nuiſance.^* Of the importance of that innovation, and the [116] miſchief of that nuiſance, they are, to be ſure, bound to judge not litigiouſly: but it is in their competence to judge. They have uniformly acted on this right. What in civil ſociety is a ground of action, in politick ſociety is a ground of war. But the exerciſe of that competent juriſdic⯑tion is a matter of moral prudence. As ſuits in civil ſociety, ſo war in the political muſt ever be a matter of great deliberation. It is not this or that particular proceeding, picked out here and there, as a ſubject of quarrel, that will do. There muſt be an aggregate of miſchief. There muſt be marks of deliberation; there muſt be traces of deſign; there muſt be indications of malice; there muſt be tokens of ambition. There muſt be force in the body where they exiſt; there muſt be energy in the mind. When all theſe cir⯑cumſtances combine, or the important parts of them, the duty of the vicinity calls for the exerciſe of it's competence; and the rules of prudence do not reſtrain, but demand it.

In deſcribing the nuiſance erected by ſo peſtilen⯑tial a manufactory, by the conſtruction of ſo infa⯑mous a brothel, by digging a night cellar for ſuch thieves, murderers, and houſe-breakers, as never in⯑feſted the world, I am ſo far from aggravating, that I have fallen infinitely ſhort of the evil. No man who has attended to the particulars of what has [117] been done in France, and combined them with the principles there aſſerted, can poſſibly doubt it. When I compare with this great cauſe of nations, the trifling points of honour, the ſtill more con⯑temptible points of intereſt, the light ceremonies, the undefinable punctilios, the diſputes about pre⯑cedency, the lowering or the hoiſting of a fail, the dealing in a hundred or two of wild cat-ſkins on the other ſide of the Globe, which have often kindled up the flames of war between nations, I ſtand aſtoniſhed at thoſe perſons, who do not feel a reſentment, not more natural than politick, at the atrocious inſults that this monſtrous com⯑pound offers to the dignity of every nation, and who are not alarmed with what it threatens to their ſafety.

I have therefore been decidedly of opinion, with our declaration at Whitehall, in the beginning of this war, that the vicinage of Europe had not only a right, but an indiſpenſible duty, and an exigent intereſt, to denunciate this new work before it had produced the danger we have ſo ſorely felt, and which we ſhall long feel. The example of what is done by France is too important not to have a vaſt and extenſive influence; and that example backed with it's power, muſt bear with great force on thoſe who are near it; eſpecially on thoſe who ſhall re⯑cognize the pretended Republick on the principle [118] upon which it now ſtands. It is not an old ſtruc⯑ture which you have found as it is, and are not to diſpute of the original end and deſign with which it had been ſo faſhioned. It is a recent wrong, and can plead no preſcription. It violates the rights upon which not only the community of France, but thoſe on which all communities are founded. The principles on which they proceed are general principles, and are as true in England as in any other country. They who (though with the pureſt intentions) recognize the autho⯑rity of theſe Regicides and robbers upon prin⯑ciple, juſtify their acts, and eſtabliſh them as pre⯑cedents. It is a queſtion not between France and England. It is a queſtion between property and force. The property claims; and it's claim has been allowed. The property of the nation is the nation. They who maſſacre, plunder, and expel the body of the proprietary, are murderers and rob⯑bers. The State, in it's eſſence, muſt be moral and juſt: and it may be ſo, though a tyrant or uſurper ſhould be accidentally at the head of it. This is a thing to be lamented: but this not⯑withſtanding, the body of the commonwealth may remain in all it's integrity and be perfectly ſound in it's compoſition. The preſent caſe is different. It is not a revolution in government. It is not the victory of party over party. It is a de⯑ſtruction and decompoſition of the whole ſociety; [119] which never can be made of right by any faction, however powerful, nor without terrible conſequences to all about it, both in the act and in the example. This pretended Republick is founded in crimes, and exiſts by wrong and robbery; and wrong and rob⯑bery, far from a title to any thing, is war with mankind. To be at peace with robbery is to be an accomplice with it.

Mere locality does not conſtitute a body po⯑litick. Had Cade and his gang got poſſeſſion of London, they would not have been the Lord-Mayor, Aldermen, and Common Council. The body politick of France exiſted in the majeſty of it's throne; in the dignity of it's nobility; in the honour of it's gentry; in the ſanctity of it's clergy: in the reverence of it's magiſtracy; in the weight and conſideration due to it's landed property in the ſeveral bailliages; in the reſpect due to it's moveable ſubſtance repreſented by the corporations of the kingdom. All theſe par⯑ticular moleculae united, form the great maſs of what is truly the body politick in all coun⯑tries. They are ſo many depoſits and recep⯑tacles of juſtice; becauſe they can only exiſt by juſtice. Nation is a moral eſſence, not a geo⯑graphical arrangement, or a denomination of the nomenclator. France, though out of her territorial poſſeſſion, exiſts; becauſe the ſole [120] poſſible claimant, I mean the proprietary, and the government to which the proprietary ad⯑heres, exiſts and claims. God forbid, that if you were expelled from your houſe by ruffians and aſſaſſins, that I ſhould call the material walls, doors and windows of—, the ancient and honourable family of —. Am I to transfer to the intruders, who not content to turn you out naked to the world, would rob you of your very name, all the eſteem and reſpect I owe to you? The Regicides in France are not France. France is out of her bounds, but the kingdom is the ſame.

To illuſtrate my opinions on this ſubject, let us ſuppoſe a caſe, which, after what has happened, we cannot think abſolutely impoſſible, though the augury is to be abominated, and the event depre⯑cated with our moſt ardent prayers. Let us ſup⯑poſe then, that our gracious Sovereign was ſacri⯑legiouſly murdered; his exemplary Queen, at the head of the matronage of this land, murdered in the ſame manner: That thoſe Princeſſes whoſe beauty and modeſt elegance are the ornaments of the country, and who are the leaders and patterns of the ingenuous youth of their ſex, were put to a cruel and ignominious death, with hundreds of others, mothers and daughters, ladies of the firſt diſtinction;—that the Prince of Wales and the Duke of York, princes the hope and pride of the [121] nation, with all their brethren, were forced to fly from the knives of aſſaſſins—that the whole body of our excellent Clergy were either maſſacred or robbed of all, and tranſported—the Chriſtian Religion, in all it's denominations▪ forbidden and perſecuted; the law totally, fundamentally, and in all it's parts deſtroyed—the judges put to death by revolutionary tribunals—the Peers and Commons robbed to the laſt acre of their eſtates; maſſacred if they ſtaid, or obliged to ſeek life in flight, in exile and in beggary—that the whole landed property ſhould ſhare the very ſame fate—that every mili⯑tary and naval officer of honour and rank, almoſt to a man, ſhould be placed in the ſame deſcrip⯑tion of confiſcation and exile—that the principal merchants and bankers ſhould be drawn out, as from an hen-coop, for ſlaughter—that the citizens of our greateſt and moſt flouriſhing cities, when the hand and the machinery of the hangman were not found ſufficient, ſhould have been collected in the publick ſquares, and maſſacred by thouſands with cannon;—if three hundred thouſand others ſhould have been doomed to a ſituation worſe than death in noiſome and peſtilential priſons;—in ſuch a caſe, is it in the faction of robbers I am to look for my coun⯑try? Would this be the England that you and I, and even ſtrangers, admired, honoured, loved, and che⯑riſhed? Would not the exiles of England alone be my Government and my fellow citizens? Would [122] not their places of refuge be my temporary country? Would not all my duties and all my affections be there and there only? Should I conſider myſelf as a traitor to my country, and deſerving of death, if I knocked at the door and heart of every Potentate in Chriſtendom to ſuccour my friends, and to avenge them on their enemies? Could I, in any way, ſhew myſelf more a Patriot? What ſhould I think of thoſe Potentates who inſulted their ſuffering brethren; who treated them as vagrants, or at leaſt as mendicants; and could find no allies, no friends, but in Regicide murderers and robbers? What ought I to think and feel, if being geographers inſtead of Kings, they re⯑cognized the deſolated cities, the waſted fields, and the rivers polluted with blood, of this geo⯑metrical meaſurement, as the honourable member of Europe, called England? In that condition what ſhould we think of Sweden, Denmark, or Holland, or whatever Power afforded us a churliſh and treacherous hoſpitality, if they ſhould invite us to join the ſtandard of our King, our Laws, and our Religion, if they ſhould give us a direct promiſe of protection,—if after all this, taking ad⯑vantage of our deplorable ſituation, which left us no choice, they were to treat us as the loweſt and vileſt of all mercenaries? If they were to ſend us far from the aid of our King, and our ſuffering Country, to ſquander us away in the moſt peſtilen⯑tial [123] climates for a venal enlargement of their own territories, for the purpoſe of trucking them, when obtained, with thoſe very robbers and murderers they had called upon us to oppoſe with our blood? What would be our ſentiments, if in that miſera⯑ble ſervice we were not to be conſidered either as Engliſh, or as Swedes, Dutch, Danes, but as out⯑caſts of the human race? Whilſt we were fighting thoſe battles of their intereſt, and as their ſoldiers, how ſhould we feel if we were to be excluded from all their cartels? How muſt we feel, if the pride and flower of the Engliſh Nobility and Gentry, who might eſcape the peſtilential clime, and the devouring ſword, ſhould, if taken pri⯑ſoners, be delivered over as rebel ſubjects, to be condemned as rebels, as traitors, as the vileſt of all criminals, by tribunals formed of Maroon ne⯑groe ſlaves, covered over with the blood of their maſters, who were made free and organiſed into judges, for their robberies and murders? What ſhould we feel under this inhuman, inſulting, and barbarous protection of Muſcovites, Swedes or Hollanders? Should we not obteſt Heaven, and whatever juſtice there is yet on Earth? Oppreſſion makes wiſe men mad; but the diſtemper is ſtill the madneſs of the wiſe, which is better than the ſobriety of fools. Their cry is the voice of ſacred miſery, exalted, not into wild raving, but into the ſanctified phrenſy of prophecy and inſpiration—in that bitterneſs of [124] ſoul, in that indignation of ſuffering virtue, in that exaltation of deſpair, would not perſecuted Engliſh Loyalty cry out, with an awful warning voice, and denounce the deſtruction that waits on Monarchs, who conſider fidelity to them as the moſt degrading of all vices; who ſuffer it to be puniſhed as the moſt abominable of all crimes; and who have no reſpect but for rebels, traitors, Regicides, and furious negro ſlaves, whoſe crimes have broke their chains? Would not this warm language of high indignation have more of ſound reaſon in it, more of real affection, more of true attachment, than all the lullabies of flatterers, who would huſh Monarchs to ſleep in the arms of death? Let them be well convinced, that if ever this ex⯑ample ſhould prevail in it's whole extent, it will have it's full operation. Whilſt Kings ſtand firm on their baſe, though under that baſe there is a ſure-wrought mine, there will not be wanting to their levee a ſingle perſon of thoſe who are attach⯑ed to their fortune, and not to their perſons or cauſe: But hereafter none will ſupport a tottering throne. Some will fly for fear of being cruſhed under the ruin; ſome will join in making it. They will ſeek in the deſtruction of Royalty, fame, and power, and wealth, and the homage of Kings, with Reubel, with Carnot, with Revelliere, and with the Merlins and the Talliens, rather than ſuffer exile and beggary with the Condés, or the Broglios, [125] the Caſtries, the D' Avrais, the Serrents, the Ca⯑zalés, and the long line of loyal, ſuffering Patriot Nobility, or to be butchered with the oracles and the victims of the laws, the D' Ormeſtons, the d' Eſ⯑premenils, and the Maleſherbes. This example we ſhall give, if inſtead of adhering to our fellows in a cauſe which is an honour to us all, we abandon the lawful Government and lawful corporate body of France, to hunt for a ſhameful and ruinous frater⯑nity, with this odious uſurpation that diſgraces ci⯑vilized ſociety and the human race.

And is then example nothing? It is every thing. Example is the ſchool of mankind, and they will learn at no other. This war is a war againſt that example. It is not a war for Louis the Eighteenth, or even for the property, virtue, fidelity of France. It is a war for George the Third, for Francis the Second, and for all the dignity, property, honour, virtue, and religion of England, of Germany, and of all nations.

I know that all I have ſaid of the ſyſtematick unſociability of this new-invented ſpecies of repub⯑lick, and the impoſſibility of preſerving peace, is an⯑ſwered by aſſerting that the ſcheme of manners, mo⯑rals, and even of maxims and principles of ſtate, is of no weight in a queſtion of peace or war between communities. This doctrine is ſupported by ex⯑ample. [126] The caſe of Algiers is cited, with an hint, as if it were the ſtronger caſe. I ſhould take no notice of this ſort of inducement, if I had found it only where firſt it was. I do not want reſpect for thoſe from whom I firſt heard it—but having no controverſy at preſent with them, I only think it not amiſs to reſt on it a little, as I find it adopt⯑ed with much more of the ſame kind, by ſeveral of thoſe on whom ſuch reaſoning had formerly made no apparent impreſſion. If it had no force to pre⯑vent us from ſubmitting to this neceſſary war, it furniſhes no better ground for our making an un⯑neceſſary and ruinous peace,

This analogical argument drawn from the caſe of Algiers would lead us a good way. The fact is, we ourſelves with a little cover, others more directly, pay a tribute to the Republick of Algiers. Is it meant to reconcile us to the pay⯑ment of a tribute to the French Republick? That this, with other things more ruinous, will be de⯑manded hereafter, I little doubt; but for the pre⯑ſent, this will not be avowed—though our minds are to be gradually prepared for it. In truth, the arguments from this caſe are worth little, even to thoſe who approve the buying an Algerine for bearance of piracy. There are many things which men do not approve, that they muſt do to avoid a greater evil. To argue from thence, that they [127] are to act in the ſame manner in all caſes, is turning neceſſity into a law. Upon what is mat⯑ter of prudence, the argument concludes the con⯑trary way. Becauſe we have done one humiliat⯑ing act, we ought, with infinite caution, to admit more acts of the ſame nature, leſt humiliation ſhould become our habitual ſtate. Matters of pru⯑dence are under the dominion of circumſtances, and not of logical analogies. It is ſo abſurd to take it otherwiſe.

I, for one, do more than doubt the policy of this kind of convention with Algiers. On thoſe who think as I do, the argument ad hominem can make no ſort of impreſſion. I know ſomething of the Conſtitution and compoſition of this very extra⯑ordinary Republick. It has a Conſtitution, I admit, ſimilar to the preſent tumultuous military tyranny of France, by which an handful of obſcure ruffians domineer over a fertile country, and a brave people. For the compoſition, too, I admit, the Algerine community reſembles that of France; being form⯑ed out of the very ſcum, ſcandal, diſgrace, and peſt of the Turkiſh Aſia. The grand Seignor, to diſbur⯑then the country, ſuffers the Dey to recruit, in his dominions, the corps of Janiſaries, or Aſaphs, which form the Directory and Council of Elders of the African Republick one and indiviſible. But notwithſtanding this reſemblance, which I allow, I [128] never ſhall ſo far injure the Janiſarian Repub⯑lick of Algiers, as to put it in compariſon for every ſort of crime, turpitude, and oppreſſion with the Jacobin Republick of Paris. There is no queſtion with me to which of the two I ſhould chooſe to be a neighbour or a ſubject. But ſituated as I am, I am in no danger of becoming to Algiers either the one or the other. It is not ſo in my relation to the atheiſtical fanaticks of France. I am their neigh⯑bour; I may become their ſubject. Have the Gen⯑tlemen who borrowed this happy parallel, no idea of the different conduct to be held with regard to the very ſame evil at an immenſe diſ⯑tance, and when it is at your door? when it's power is enormous, as when it is comparatively as feeble as it's diſtance is remote? when there is a barrier of language and uſages, which prevents corruption through certain old correſpondences and habi⯑tudes, from the contagion of the horrible novel⯑ties that are introduced into every thing elſe? I can contemplate, without dread, a royal or a national tyger on the borders of Pegu. I can look at him, with an eaſy curioſity, as priſoner within bars in the menagerie of the Tower. But if, by Habeas Corpus, or otherwiſe, he was to come into the Lobby of the Houſe of Commons whilſt your door was open, any of you would be more ſtout than wiſe, who would not gladly make your eſcape out of the back windows. I certainly [129] ſhould dread more from a wild cat in my bed⯑chamber, than from all the lions that roar in the deſerts behind Algiers. But in this parallel it is the cat that is at a diſtance, and the lions and ty⯑gers that are in our anti-chambers and our lobbies. Algiers is not near; Algiers is not powerful; Al⯑giers is not our neighbour; Algiers is not infec⯑tious. Algiers, whatever it may be, is an old crea⯑tion; and we have good data to calculate all the miſchief to be apprehended from it. When I find Algiers transferred to Calais, I will tell you what I think of that point. In the mean time, the caſe quoted from the Algerine reports, will not apply as authority. We ſhall put it out of court; and ſo far as that goes, let the counſel for the Jacobin peace take nothing by their motion.

When we voted, as you and I did, with many more whom you and I reſpect and love, to reſiſt this enemy, we were providing for dangers that were direct, home, preſſing, and not remote, contingent, uncertain, and formed upon looſe analogies. We judged of the danger with which we were menaced by Jacobin France, from the whole tenor of her conduct; not from one or two doubtful or detached acts or expreſſions. I not only concurred in the idea of combining with Europe in this war; but to the beſt of my power ever ſtimulated Miniſters to that conjunction of intereſts and of efforts. I joined [130] with them with all my ſoul, on the principles con⯑tained in that manly and maſterly ſtate-paper, which I have two or three times referred to,^* and may ſtill more frequently hereafter. The diploma⯑tick collection never was more enriched than with this piece. The hiſtorick facts juſtify every ſtroke of the maſter. ‘"Thus painters write their names at Co."’

Various perſons may concur in the ſame mea⯑ſure on various grounds. They may be various, without being contrary to, or excluſive of each other. I thought the inſolent, unprovoked ag⯑greſſion of the Regicide, upon our Ally of Hol⯑land, a good ground of war. I think his manifeſt attempt to overturn the balance of Europe, a good ground of war. As a good ground of war, I conſider his declaration of war on his Majeſty and his kingdom. But though I have taken all theſe to my aid, I conſider them as nothing more than as a ſort of evidence to indicate the treaſonable mind within▪ Long before their acts of aggreſſion, and their declaration of war, the faction in France had aſſumed a form, had adopt⯑ed a body of principles and maxims, and had regu⯑larly and ſyſtematically acted on them, by which ſhe virtually had put herſelf in a poſture, which was in itſelf a declaration of war againſt mankind.

[131]It is ſaid by the Directory in their ſeveral ma⯑nifeſtoes, that we of the people are tumultuous for peace; and that Miniſters pretend negociation to amuſe us. This they have learned from the lan⯑guage of many amongſt ourſelves, whoſe converſa⯑tions have been one main cauſe of whatever extent the opinion for peace with Regicide may be. But I who think the Miniſters unfortunately to be but too ſerious in their proceedings, find myſelf obliged to ſay a little more on this ſubject of the popular opinion.

Before our opinions are quoted againſt ourſelves, it is proper that, from our ſerious deliberation, they may be worth quoting. It is without reaſon we praiſe the wiſdom of our Conſtitution, in putting un⯑der the diſcretion of the Crown, the awful truſt of war and peace, if the Miniſters of the Crown virtually return it again into our hands. The truſt was placed there as a ſacred depoſit, to ſecure us againſt popular raſhneſs in plunging into wars, and againſt the effects of popular diſmay, diſ⯑guſt, or laſſitude in getting out of them as im⯑prudently as we might firſt engage in them. To have no other meaſure in judging of thoſe great ob⯑jects than our momentary opinions and deſires, is to throw us back upon that very democracy which, in this part, our Conſtitution was formed to avoid.

[132]It is no excuſe at all for a miniſter, who at our deſire, takes a meaſure contrary to our ſafety, that it is our own act. He who does not ſtay the hand of ſuicide, is guilty of murder. On our part I ſay, that to be inſtructed, is not to be degraded or enſlaved. Information is an advantage to us; and we have a right to de⯑mand it. He that is bound to act in the dark cannot be ſaid to act freely. When it appears evi⯑dent to our governors that our deſires and our in⯑tereſts are at variance, they ought not to gratify the former at the expence of the latter. Stateſmen are placed on an eminence, that they may have a larger horizon than we can poſſibly command. They have a whole before them, which we can contemplate only in the parts, and even without the neceſſary relations. Miniſters are not only our natural rulers but our natural guides. Reaſon clearly and manfully delivered, has in itſelf a mighty force: but reaſon in the mouth of legal authority, is, I may fairly ſay, irreſiſtible.

I admit that reaſon of ſtate will not, in many cir⯑cumſtances permit the diſcloſure of the true ground of a public proceeding. In that caſe ſilence is manly and it is wiſe. It is fair to call for truſt when the principle of reaſon itſelf ſuſpends it's public uſe. I take the diſtinction to be this: The ground of a particular meaſure, making a part of [133] a plan, it is rarely proper to divulge; all the broader grounds of policy on which the general plan is to be adopted, ought as rarely to be con⯑cealed. They who have not the whole cauſe be⯑fore them, call them politicians, call them people, call them what you will, are no judges. The dif⯑ficulties of the caſe, as well as it's fair ſide, ought to be preſented. This ought to be done: and it is all that can be done. When we have our true ſi⯑tuation diſtinctly preſented to us, if then we reſolve with a blind and headlong violence, to reſiſt the admonitions of our friends, and to caſt ourſelves into the hands of our potent and irreconcileable foes, then, and not till then, the miniſters ſtand acquitted before God and man, for whatever may come.

Lamenting as I do, that the matter has not had ſo full and free a diſcuſſion as it requires, I mean to omit none of the points which ſeem to me neceſſary for conſideration, previous to an ar⯑rangement which is for ever to decide the form and the fate of Europe. In the courſe, there⯑fore, of what I ſhall have the honour to addreſs to you, I propoſe the following queſtions to your ſe⯑rious thoughts. 1. Whether the preſent ſyſtem, which ſtands for a Government in France, be ſuch as in peace and war affects the neighbouring States in a manner different from the internal Govern⯑ment [134] that formerly prevailed in that country? 2. Whether that ſyſtem, ſuppoſing it's views hoſtile to other nations, poſſeſſes any means of being hurtful to them peculiar to itſelf? 3. Whether there has been lately ſuch a change in France, as to alter the nature of it's ſyſtem, or it's effect upon other Powers? 4. Whether any publick de⯑clarations or engagements exiſt, on the part of the allied Powers, which ſtand in the way of a treaty of peace, which ſuppoſes the right and confirms the power of the Regicide faction in France? 5. What the ſtate of the other Powers of Europe will be with reſpect to each other, and their colonies, on the concluſion of a Regicide Peace? 6. Whe⯑ther we are driven to the abſolute neceſſity of making that kind of peace?

Theſe heads of enquiry will enable us to make the application of the ſeveral matters of fact and topicks of argument, that occur in this vaſt diſ⯑cuſſion, to certain fixed principles. I do not mean to confine myſelf to the order in which they ſtand. I ſhall diſcuſs them in ſuch a manner as ſhall appear to me the beſt adapted for ſhewing their mutual bearings and relations. Here then I cloſe the public matter of my Letter; but before I have done, let me ſay one word in apology for myſelf.

[135]In wiſhing this nominal peace not to be precipi⯑tated, I am ſure no man living is leſs diſpoſed to blame the preſent Miniſtry than I am. Some of my oldeſt friends, (and I wiſh I could ſay it of more of them) make a part in that Miniſtry. There are ſome indeed, ‘"whom my dim eyes in vain explore."’In my mind, a greater calamity could not have fallen on the publick than the excluſion of one of them. But I drive away that, with other melancholy thoughts. A great deal ought to be ſaid upon that ſubject or nothing. As to the diſtinguiſhed perſons to whom my friends who remain, are joined, if benefits, nobly and generouſly conferred, ought to procure good wiſhes, they are intitled to my beſt vows; and they have them all. They have adminiſtered to me the only conſolation I am capable of receiving, which is to know that no individual will ſuffer by my thirty years ſervice to the publick. If things ſhould give us the com⯑parative happineſs of a ſtruggle, I ſhall be found, I was going to ſay fighting, (that would be fooliſh) but dying by the ſide of Mr. Pitt. I muſt add, that if any thing defenſive in our domeſtick ſyſtem can poſſibly ſave us from the diſaſters of a Regicide peace, he is the man to ſave us. If the finances in ſuch a caſe can be repaired, he is the man to repair them. If I ſhould lament any of his acts, it is only when they appear to me to have no reſemblance to acts of his. But [136] let him not have a confidence in himſelf, which no human abilities can warrant. His abilities are fully equal (and that is to ſay much for any man) to thoſe which are oppoſed to him. But if we look to him as our ſecurity againſt the conſe⯑quences of a Regicide Peace, let us be aſſured, that a Regicide Peace and a Conſtitutional Miniſtry are terms that will not agree. With a Regicide Peace the King cannot long have a Miniſter to ſerve him, nor the Miniſter a King to ſerve. If the Great Diſpoſer, in reward of the royal and the private virtues of our Sovereign, ſhould call him from the calamitous ſpectacles, which will attend a ſtate of amity with Regicide, his ſucceſſor will ſurely ſee them, unleſs the ſame Providence greatly antici⯑pates the courſe of nature. Thinking thus, (and not, as I conceive, on light grounds) I dare not flatter the reigning Sovereign, nor any Miniſter he has or can have, nor his Succeſſor Apparent, nor any of thoſe who may be called to ſerve him, with what appears to me a falſe ſtate of their ſituation. We cannot have them and that Peace together.

I do not forget that there had been a conſider⯑able difference between ſeveral of our friends, with my inſignificant ſelf, and the great man at the head of Miniſtry, in an early ſtage of theſe diſcuſ⯑ſions. But I am ſure there was a period in which we agreed better in the danger of a Jacobin exiſt⯑ence [137] in France. At one time, he and all Europe ſeemed to feel it. But why am not I converted with ſo many great Powers, and ſo many great Miniſters? It is becauſe I am old and ſlow.— I am in this year, 1796, only where all the powers of Europe were in 1793. I cannot move with this proceſſion of the Equinoxes, which is preparing for us the return of ſome very old, I am afraid no golden aera, or the commencement of ſome new aera that must be denominated from ſome new metal. In this criſis I muſt hold my tongue, or I muſt ſpeak with freedom. Falſhood and deluſion are allowed in no caſe whatever: But, as in the exerciſe of all the virtues, there is an oeconomy of truth. It is a ſort of temperance, by which a man ſpeaks truth with meaſure that he may ſpeak it the longer. But as the ſame rules do not hold in all caſes—what would be right for you, who may preſume on a ſeries of years before you, would have no ſenſe for me, who cannot, without abſurdity, calculate on ſix months of life. What I ſay, I muſt ſay at once. Whatever I write is in it's nature teſtamentary. It may have the weakneſs, but it has the ſincerity of a dying declaration. For the few days I have to linger here, I am removed completely from the buſy ſcene of the world; but I hold myſelf to be ſtill reſponſible for every thing that I have done whilſt I continued on the place of action. If the raweſt Tyro in politicks has been influenced by the [138] authority of my grey hairs, and led by any thing in my ſpeeches, or my writings, to enter into this war, he has a right to call upon me to know why I have changed my opinions, or why, when thoſe I voted with, have adopted better notions, I per⯑ſevere in exploded errour?

When I ſeem not to acquieſce in the acts of thoſe I reſpect in every degree ſhort of ſuperſti⯑tion, I am obliged to give my reaſons fully. I cannot ſet my authority againſt their authority. But to exert reaſon is not to revolt againſt authority. Reaſon and authority do not move in the ſame parallel. That reaſon is an amicus curiae who ſpeaks de plano, not pro tribunali. It is a friend who makes an uſeful ſuggeſtion to the Court, without queſtioning it's juriſdiction. Whilſt he acknow⯑ledges it's competence, he promotes it's efficiency. I ſhall purſue the plan I have chalked out in my Letters that follow this.

LETTER II. On the Genius and Character of the French Revolution as it regards other Nations.

I Cloſed my firſt Letter with ſerious matter; and I hope it has employed your thoughts. The ſyſtem of peace muſt have a reference to the ſyſtem of the war. On that ground, I muſt therefore again recal your mind to our original opinions, which time and events have not taught me to vary.

My ideas and my principles led me, in this conteſt, to encounter France, not as a State, but as a Faction. The vaſt territorial extent of that country, it's immenſe population, it's riches of production, it's riches of commerce and con⯑vention—the whole aggregate maſs of what, in ordinary caſes, conſtitutes the force of a State, to me were but objects of ſecondary conſidera⯑tion. They might be balanced; and they have [140] been often more than balanced. Great as theſe things are, they are not what make the faction formidable. It is the faction that makes them truly dreadful. That faction is the evil ſpirit that poſſeſſes the body of France; that informs it as a ſoul; that ſtamps upon it's ambition, and upon all it's purſuits, a characteriſtick mark, which ſtrongly diſtinguiſhes them from the ſame general paſſions, and the ſame general views, in other men and in other communities. It is that ſpirit which inſpires into them, a new, a perni⯑cious, a deſolating activity. Conſtituted as France was ten years ago, it was not in that France to ſhake, to ſhatter, and to over⯑whelm Europe in the manner that we behold. A ſure deſtruction impends over thoſe infatuated Princes, who, in the conflict with this new and unheard-of power, proceed as if they were en⯑gaged in a war that bore a reſemblance to their former conteſts; or that they can make peace in the ſpirit of their former arrangements of pa⯑cification. Here the beaten path is the very reverſe of the ſafe road.

As to me, I was always ſteadily of opi⯑nion, that this diſorder was not in it's nature intermittent. I conceived that the conteſt once begun, could not be laid down again, to be reſumed at our diſcretion; but that our [141] firſt ſtruggle with this evil would alſo be our laſt. I never thought we could make peace with the ſyſtem; becauſe it was not for the ſake of an object we purſued in rivalry with each other, but with the ſyſtem itſelf that we were at war. As I underſtood the matter, we were at war not with it's conduct, but with it's exiſt⯑ence; convinced that it's exiſtence and it's hoſ⯑tility were the ſame.

The faction is not local or territorial. It is a general evil. Where it leaſt appears in action, it is ſtill full of life. In it's ſleep it recruits it's ſtrength, and prepares it's exertion. It's ſpirit lies deep in the corruptions of our common nature. The ſocial order which reſtrains it, feeds it. It exiſts in every country in Europe; and among all orders of men in every country, who look up to France as to a common head. The centre is there. The circumference is the world of Eu⯑rope wherever the race of Europe may be ſet⯑tled. Every where elſe the faction is militant; in France it is triumphant. In France is the bank of depoſit, and the bank of circulation, of all the pernicious principles that are forming in every State. It will be a folly ſcarcely deſerving of pity, and too miſchievous for contempt, to think of reſtraining it in any other country whilſt it is predominant there. War, inſtead of [142] being the cauſe of it's force, has ſuſpended it's operation▪ It has given a reprieve, at leaſt, to the Chriſtian World.

The true nature of a Jacobin war, in the be⯑ginning, was, by moſt of the Chriſtian Powers, felt, acknowledged, and even in the moſt pre⯑ciſe manner declared. In the joint manifeſto, publiſhed by the Emperor and the King of Pruſſia, on the 4th of Auguſt 1792, it is ex⯑preſſed in the cleareſt terms, and on principles which could not fail, if they had adhered to them, of claſſing thoſe monarchs with the firſt benefactors of mankind. This manifeſto was publiſhed, as they themſelves expreſs it, ‘"to lay open to the preſent generation, as well as to poſterity, their motives, their intentions, and the diſintereſtedneſs of their perſonal views; taking up arms for the purpoſe of preſerving ſocial and political order amongſt all civilized nations, and to ſecure to each ſtate it's reli⯑gion, happineſs, independence, territories, and real conſtitution."—"On this ground, they hoped that all Empires, and all States, ought to be unanimous; and becoming the firm guardians of the happineſs of mankind, that they cannot fail to unite their efforts to reſcue a numerous nation from it's own fury, to pre⯑ſerve Europe from the return of barbariſm, [143] and the Univerſe from the ſubverſion and anarchy with which it was threatened."’ The whole of that noble performance ought to be read at the firſt meeting of any Congreſs, which may aſſemble for the purpoſe of pacification. In that piece ‘"theſe Powers expreſsly renounce all views of perſonal aggrandizement,"’ and confine themſelves to objects worthy of ſo generous, ſo heroic, and ſo perfectly wiſe and politick an en⯑terpriſe. It was to the principles of this confe⯑deration and to no other, that we wiſhed our Sovereign and our Country to accede, as a part of the commonwealth of Europe. To theſe principles with ſome trifling exceptions and limitations they did fully accede.^* And all our friends who did take office acceded to the Mi⯑niſtry (whether wiſely or not) as I always un⯑derſtood the matter, on the faith and on the principles of that declaration.

As long as theſe powers flattered themſelves that the menace of force would produce the ef⯑fect of force, they acted on thoſe declarations: but when their menaces failed of ſucceſs, their efforts took a new direction. It did not appear to them that virtue and heroiſm ought to be pur⯑chaſed by millions of rix-dollars. It is a dreadful [144] truth, but it is a truth that cannot be concealed; in ability, in dexterity, in the diſtinctneſs of their views, the Jacobins are our ſuperiours. They ſaw the thing right from the very beginning. What⯑ever were the firſt motives to the war among politicians, they ſaw that it is in it's ſpirit, and for it's objects, a civil war; and as ſuch they purſued it. It is a war between the partizans of the antient, civil, moral, and political order of Europe againſt a ſect of fanatical and ambi⯑tious atheiſts which means to change them all. It is not France extending a foreign empire over other nations: it is a ſect aiming at univerſal empire, and beginning with the conqueſt of France. The leaders of that ſect ſecured the centre of Europe; and that ſecured, they knew, that whatever might be the event of battles and ſieges, their cauſe was victorious. Whether it's territory had a little more or a little leſs peeled from it's ſurface, or whether an iſland or two was detached from it's commerce, to them was of little moment. The conqueſt of France was a glorious acquiſition. That once well laid as a baſis of empire, opportunities never could be wanting to regain or to replace what had been loſt, and dreadfully to avenge themſelves on the faction of their adverſaries.

[145]They ſaw it was a civil war. It was their bu⯑ſineſs to perſuade their adverſaries that it ought to be a foreign war. The Jacobins every where ſet up a cry againſt the new cruſade; and they intrigued with effect in the cabinet, in the field, and in every private ſociety in Europe. Their taſk was not difficult. The condition of Princes, and ſometimes of firſt Miniſters too, is to be pitied. The creatures of the deſk, and the creatures of favour, had no reliſh for the principles of the manifeſtoes. They pro⯑miſed no governments, no regiments, no reve⯑nues from whence emoluments might ariſe, by perquiſite or by grant. In truth, the tribe of vulgar politicians are the loweſt of our ſpecies. There is no trade ſo vile and mechanical as go⯑vernment in their hands. Virtue is not their habit. They are out of themſelves in any courſe of conduct recommended only by conſcience and glory. A large, liberal and proſpective view of the intereſts of States paſſes with them for romance; and the principles that recom⯑mend it for the wanderings of a diſordered imagination. The calculators compute them out of their ſenſes. The jeſters and buffoons ſhame them out of every thing grand and ele⯑vated. Littleneſs in object and in means, to them appears ſoundneſs and ſobriety. They think there is nothing worth purſuit, but that which [146] they can handle; which they can meaſure with a two-foot rule; which they can tell upon ten fingers.

Without the principles of the Jacobins, per⯑hap w [...]hout any [...]rinciples at all, they played the g [...]e of that faction. There was a beaten road befo [...]e them. The Powers of Europe were arm⯑ed; France had always appeared dangerous; the war was eaſily diverted from France as a fac⯑tion, to France as a ſtate. The Princes were eaſily taught to ſlide back into their old habitual courſe of politicks. They were eaſily led to conſider the flames that were conſuming France, not as a warning to protect their own buildings▪ (which we [...]e without any pa [...]ty wall, and linked by a contignation into the edifice of France.) as an happy occaſion for pillag⯑ing the goods, and for carrying [...]ff the materials of their neighbour's houſe. Their provident fears were changed into avaricious hopes. They car⯑ried on their new deſigns without ſeeming to abandon the principles of their old policy. They pretended to [...]e [...]k, or they flattered themſelves tha [...] they ſought, in the acceſſion of new for⯑treſſes, and [...]ew territories, a defenſive ſecurity. But the ſecurity wanted was againſt a kind of power which was not ſo truly dangerous in it's fortreſſes nor in it's territories, as in it's ſpirit and [147] it's principles. They aimed, or pretended to aim, at defending themſelves againſt a danger, from which there can be no ſecurity in any de⯑fenſive plan. If armies and fortreſſes were a de⯑fence againſt Jacobiniſm, Louis the Sixteenth would this day reign a powerful monarch over an happy people.

This error obliged them, even in their offen⯑ſive operations, to adopt a plan of war, againſt the ſucceſs of which there was ſomething little ſhort of mathematical demonſtration. They refuſed to take any ſtep which might ſtrike at the heart of affairs. They ſeemed unwilling to wound the enemy in any vital part. They acted through the whole, as if they really wiſhed the conſervation of the Jacobin power; as what might be more favourable than the lawful Go⯑vernment to the attainment of the petty objects they looked for. They always kept on the cir⯑cumference; and the wider and remoter the circle was, the more eagerly they choſe it as their ſphere of action in this centrifugal war. The plan they purſued, in it's nature demanded great length of time. In it's execution, they, who went the near⯑eſt way to work, were obliged to cover an incre⯑dible extent of country. It left to the enemy every means of deſtroying this extended line of weakneſs. Ill ſucceſs in any part was ſure to de⯑feat [148] the effect of the whole. This is true of Auſ⯑tria It is ſtill more true of England. On this falſe plan, even good fortune, by further weak⯑ening the victor, put him but the further off from his object.

As long as there was any appearance of ſuc⯑ceſs, the ſpirit of aggrandizement, and conſe⯑quently the ſpirit of mutual jealouſy ſeized upon all the coaleſced Powers. Some ſought an ac⯑ceſſion of territory at the expence of France, ſome at the expence of each other; ſome at the expence of third parties; and when the viciſſi⯑tude of diſaſter took it's turn, they found com⯑mon diſtreſs a treacherous bond of faith and friendſhip.

The greateſt ſkill conducting the greateſt mi⯑litary apparatus has been employed; but it has been worſe than uſeleſsly employed, through the falſe policy of the war. The ope⯑rations of the field ſuffered by the errors of the Cabinet. If the ſame ſpirit continues when peace is made, the peace will fix and perpetuate all the errors of the war; becauſe it will be made upon the ſame falſe principle. What has been loſt in the field, in the field may be regained. An arrangement of peace in it's na⯑ture is a permanent ſettlement; it is the effect [149] of counſel and deliberation, and not of for⯑tuitous events. If built upon a baſis funda⯑mentally erroneous, it can only be retrieved by ſome of thoſe unforeſeen diſpenſations, which the all-wiſe but myſterious Governor of the World, ſometimes interpoſes, to ſnatch nations from ruin. It would not be pious error, but mad and impious preſumption for any one to truſt in an unknown order of diſpenſations, in defiance of the rules of prudence, which are formed upon the known march of the ordinary providence of God.

It was not of that ſort of war that I was amongſt the leaſt conſiderable, but amongſt the moſt zealous adviſers; and it is not by the ſort of peace now talked of, that I wiſh it concluded. It would anſwer no great purpoſe to enter into the particular errours of the war. The whole has been but one errour. It was but nominally a war of alliance. As the combined powers pur⯑ſued it, there was nothing to hold an alli⯑ance together. There could be no tie of honour, in a ſociety for pillage. There could be no tie of a common intereſt where the object did not offer ſuch a diviſion amongſt the parties, as could well give them a warm concern in the gains of each other, or could indeed form ſuch a body of equivalents, as might make one of [150] them willing to abandon a ſeparate object of his ambition for the gratification of any other member of the alliance. The partition of Poland offered an object of ſpoil in which the parties might agree. They were circumjacent; and each might take a portion convenient to his own territory. They might diſpute about the value of their ſeveral ſhares, but the contiguity to each of the demandants always furniſhed the means of an adjuſtment. Though hereafter the world will have cauſe to rue this iniquitous meaſure, and they moſt who were moſt con⯑cerned in it, for the moment, there was where⯑withal in the object to preſerve peace amongſt confederates in wrong. But the ſpoil of France, did not afford the ſame facilities for accom⯑modation. What might ſatisfy the Houſe of Auſtria in a Flemiſh frontier afforded no equi⯑valent to tempt the cupidity of the King of Pruſſia. What might be deſired by Great Bri⯑tain in the Weſt-Indies, muſt be coldly and remotely, if at all, felt as an intereſt at Vienna; and it would be felt as ſomething worſe than a negative intereſt at Madrid▪ Auſtria, long poſ⯑ſeſſed with unwiſe and dangerous deſigns on Italy, could not be very much in earneſt about the conſervation of the old patrimony of the Houſe of Savoy: and Sardinia, who owed to an Italian force all her means of ſhutting out [151] France from Italy, of which ſhe has been ſup⯑po [...]d to hold the k [...], would not purchaſe the means of ſtrength u [...]on one ſide by yielding it on the [...]ther. She would not readily give the poſ⯑ſeſſio [...] [...]f N [...]var [...] for the hope of Savoy. No continental Power was willing to loſe any of it's [...]o [...]en [...]al objects for the encreaſe of the naval power of Great Britain; and Great Bri⯑tain would not give up a [...]y of the objects ſhe ſou [...]ht for as the mean of an encreaſe to her na⯑val power, to further their aggrandizement.

The moment this war came to be conſidered as [...] war merely of profit, the actual circum⯑ſtances are ſuch, that it never could become really a war of alliance. Nor can the peace be a peace of alliance, until things are put upon their right bottom.

I don't find it denied, that when a treaty is entered into for peace, a demand will be made on the Regicides to ſurrender a great part of their conqueſts on the Continent. Will they, in the preſent ſtate of the war, make that ſur⯑render without an equivalent? This continental ceſſion muſt of courſe be made in favour of that party in the alliance, that has ſuffered-loſſes. That party has nothing to furniſh towards an equivalent. What equivalent, for inſtance, has [152] Holland to offer, who has loſt her all? What equivalent can come from the Emperor, every part of whoſe territories contiguous to France, is already within the pale of the Regicide domi⯑nion? What equivalent has Sardinia to offer for Savoy and for Nice, I may ſay for her whole being? What has ſhe taken from the faction of France? She has loſt very near her all; and ſhe has gained nothing. What equivalent has Spain to give? Alas! ſhe has already paid for her own ranſom the fund of equivalent, and a dreadful equiva⯑lent it is, to England and to herſelf. But I put Spain out of the queſtion. She is a province of the Jacobin Empire, and ſhe muſt make peace or war according to the orders ſhe receives from the Directory of Aſſaſſins. In effect and ſub⯑ſtance, her Crown is a fief of Regicide.

Whence then can the compenſation be de⯑manded? Undoubtedly from that power which alone has made ſome conqueſts. That power is England. Will the allies then give away their antient patrimony, that England may keep Iſlands in the Weſt-Indies? They never can protract the war in good earneſt for that object; nor can they act in concert with us, in our refuſal to grant any thing towards their redemption. In that caſe we are thus ſituated. Either we muſt give Europe, bound hand and foot to France; [153] or we muſt quit the Weſt Indies without any one object, great or ſmall, towards indemnity and ſecurity. I repeat it without any advantage whatever: becauſe, ſuppoſing that our conqueſt could comprize all that France ever poſſeſſed in the tropical America, it never can amount in any fair eſtimation to a fair equivalent for Hol⯑land, for the Auſtrian Netherlands, for the lower Germany, that is for the whole antient kingdom or circle of Burgundy, now under the yoke of Regicide, to ſay nothing of almoſt all Italy under the ſame barbarous domination. If we treat in the preſent ſituation of things, we have nothing in our hands that can redeem Europe. Nor is the Emperor, as I have ob⯑ſerved, more rich in the fund of equivalents.

If we look to our ſtock in the Eaſtern world, our moſt valuable and ſyſtematick acquiſitions are made in that quarter. Is it from France. they are made? France has but one or two con⯑temptible factories, ſubſiſting by the offal of the private fortunes of Engliſh individuals to ſupport them, in any part of India. I look on the taking of the Cape of Good Hope as the ſecuring of a poſt of great moment. It does honour to thoſe who planned, and to thoſe who executed that enterprize: but I ſpeak of it al⯑ways as compararively good; as good as any [154] thing can be in a ſcheme of war that repels us from a centre, and employs all our forces where nothing can be finally deciſive. But giving, as I freely give, every poſſible credit to theſe eaſtern conqueſts, I aſk one queſtion, on whom are they made? It is evident, that if we can keep our eaſtern conqueſts, we keep them not at the expence of France, but at the expence of Hol⯑land our ally; of Holland the immediate cauſe of the war, the nation whom we had un⯑dertaken to protect, and not of the Republic which it was our buſineſs to deſtroy. If we re⯑turn the African and the Aſiatick conqueſts, we put them into the hands of a nominal State, (to that Holland is reduced) unable to retain them; and which will virtually leave them under the direction of France. If we withhold them, Holland declines ſtill more as a State; and ſhe loſes ſo much carrying trade and that means of keeping up the ſmall degree of naval power ſhe holds; for which policy alone, and not for any commercial gain, ſhe maintains the Cape, or any ſettlement beyond it. In that caſe, reſentment, faction, and even neceſſity will throw her more and more into the power of the new miſchievous Republick. But on the probable ſtate of Hol⯑land, I ſhall ſay more, when in this correſpon⯑dence I come to talk over with you the ſtate in [155] which any ſort of Jacobin peace will leave all Europe.

So far as to the Eaſt Indies.

As to the Weſt Indies, indeed as to either, if we look for matter of exchange in order to ran⯑ſom Europe, it is eaſy to ſhew that we have taken a terribly roundabout road. I cannot conceive, even if, for the ſake of holding conqueſts there, we ſhould refuſe to redeem Holland, and the Auſtrian Netherlands, and the hither Germany, that Spain, merely as ſhe is Spain, (and forgetting that the Regicide Am⯑baſſador governs at Madrid) will ſee with per⯑fect ſatisfaction, Great Britain ſole miſtreſs of the Iſles. In truth it appears to me, that, when we come to balance our account, we ſhall find in the propoſed peace only the pure, ſimple, and unendowed charms of Jacobin amity. We ſhall have the ſatisfaction of knowing, that no blood or treaſure has been ſpared by the allies for ſup⯑port of the Regicide ſyſtem. We ſhall reflect at leiſure on one great truth, that it was ten times more eaſy totally to deſtroy the ſyſtem it⯑ſelf, than when eſtabliſhed, it would be to re⯑duce it's power—and that this Republick, moſt formidable abroad, was, of all things, the weak⯑eſt at home; That her frontier was terrible— [156] her interior feeble—that it was matter of choice to attack her where ſhe is invincible; and to ſpare her where ſhe was ready to diſſolve by her own internal diſorders. We ſhall reflect, that our plan was good neither for offence nor de⯑fence.

My dear Friend, I hold it impoſſible that theſe conſiderations ſhould have eſcaped the Stateſmen on both ſides of the water, and on both ſides of the houſe of Commons. How a queſtion of peace can be diſcuſſed without hav⯑ing them in view, I cannot imagine. If you or others ſee a way out of theſe difficulties I am happy. I ſee indeed a fund from whence equi⯑valents will be propoſed. I ſee it. But I can⯑not juſt now touch it. It is a queſtion of high moment. It opens another Iliad of woes to Eu⯑rope.

Such is the time propoſed for making a com⯑mon political peace, to which no one circumſtance is propitious. As to the grand principle of the peace, it is left, as if by common conſent, wholly out of the queſtion.

Viewing things in this light, I have frequently ſunk into a degree of deſpondency and dejec⯑tion hardly to be deſcribed: yet out of the pro⯑foundeſt [157] depths of this deſpair, an impulſe which I have in vain endeavoured to reſiſt, has urged me to raiſe one feeble cry againſt this unfortunate coalition which is formed at home, in order to make a coalition with France, ſubverſive of the whole ancient order of the world. No diſaſter of war, no calamity of ſeaſon could ever ſtrike me with half the horror which I felt from what is introduced to us by this junction of parties, under the ſoothing name of peace. We are apt to ſpeak of a low and pu⯑ſillanimous ſpirit as the ordinary cauſe by which dubious wars terminate in humiliating treaties. It is here the direct contrary. I am perfectly aſtoniſhed at the boldneſs of character, at the intrepidity of mind, the firmneſs of nerve, in thoſe who are able with deliberation to face the perils of Jacobin fraternity.

This fraternity is indeed ſo terrible in it's nature, and in it's manifeſt conſequences, that there is no way of quieting our apprehenſions about it, but by totally putting it out of ſight, by ſubſtituting for it, through a ſort of periphra⯑ſis, ſomething of an ambiguous quality, and deſcribing ſuch a connection under the terms of ‘"the uſual relations of peace and amity."’ By this means the propoſed fraternity is huſtled in the crowd of thoſe treaties, which imply no change [158] in the public law of Europe, and which do not upon ſyſtem affect the interior condition of na⯑tions. It is confounded with thoſe conventions in which matters of diſpute among ſovereign powers are compromiſed, by the taking off a duty more or leſs, by the ſurrender of a frontier town, or a diſputed diſtrict on the one ſide or the other; by pactions in which the pretenſions of families are ſettled, (as by a conveyancer, making family ſubſtitutions and ſucceſſions) without any alte⯑ration in the laws, manners, religion, privileges and cuſtoms of the cities or territories which are the ſubject of ſuch arrangements.

All this body of old conventions, compoſing the vaſt and voluminous collection called the corps diplomatique, forms the code or ſtatute law, as the methodized reaſonings of the great pub⯑liciſts and juriſts form the digeſt and juriſpru⯑dence, of the Chriſtian world. In theſe trea⯑ſures are to be found the uſual relations of peace and amity in civilized Europe; and there the relations of ancient France were to be found amongſt the reſt.

The preſent ſyſtem in France is not the an⯑cient France. It is not the ancient France with ordinary ambition and ordinary means. It is not a new power of an old kind. It is a new power of [159] a new ſpecies. When ſuch a queſtionable ſhape is to be admitted for the firſt time into the bro⯑therhood of Chriſtendom, it is not a mere matter of idle curioſity to conſider how far it is in it's na⯑ture alliable with the reſt, or whether ‘"the re⯑lations of peace and amity"’with this new State are likely to be of the ſame nature with the uſual relations of the States of Europe.

The Revolution in France had the relation of France to other nations as one of it's princi⯑pal objects. The changes made by that Revo⯑lution were not the better to accommodate her to the old and uſual relations, but to produce new ones. The Revolution was made, not to make France free, but to make her formid⯑able; not to make her a neighbour, but a miſ⯑treſs; not to make her more obſervant of laws, but to put her in a condition to impoſe them. To make France truly formidable it was neceſ⯑ſary that France ſhould be new-modelled. They who have not followed the train of the late pro⯑ceedings, have been led by deceitful repreſenta⯑tions (which deceit made a part in the plan) to conceive that this totally new model of a ſtate in which nothing eſcaped a change, was made with a view to it's internal relations only.

[160]In the Revolution of France two ſorts of men were principally concerned in giving a character and determination to it's purſuits; the philoſo⯑phers and the politicians. They took different ways, but they met in the ſame end. The philo⯑ſophers had one predominant object, which they purſued with a fanatical fury, that is, the utter extirpation of religion. To that every queſtion of empire was ſubordinate. They had rather domi⯑neer in a pariſh of Atheiſts, than rule over a Chriſ⯑tian world. Their temporal ambition was wholly ſubſervient to their proſelytizing ſpirit, in which they were not exceeded by Mahomet himſelf.

They who have made but ſuperficial ſtudies in the Natural Hiſtory of the human mind, have been taught to look on religious opinions as the only cauſe of enthuſiaſtick zeal, and ſec⯑tarian propagation. But there is no doctrine whatever, on which men can warm, that is not capable of the very ſame effect. The ſocial nature of man impels him to propagate his prin⯑ciples, as much as phyſical impulſes urge him to propagate his kind. The paſſions give zeal and vehemence. The underſtanding beſtows deſign and ſyſtem. The whole man moves under the diſcipline of his opinions. Religion is among the moſt powerful cauſes of enthuſiaſm. When [161] any thing concerning it becomes an object of much meditation, it cannot be indifferent to the mind. They who do not love religion, hate it. The rebels to God perfectly abhor the Author of their being. They hate him ‘"with all their heart, with all their mind, with all their ſoul, and with all their ſtrength."’ He never pre⯑ſents himſelf to their thoughts, but to menace and alarm them. They cannot ſtrike the Sun out of Heaven, but they are able to raiſe a ſmoulder⯑ing ſmoke that obſcures him from their own eyes. Not being able to revenge themſelves on God, they have a delight in vicariouſly defacing, degrading, torturing, and tearing in pieces his image in man. Let no one judge of them by what he has conceived of them, when they were not incorporated, and had no lead. They were then only paſſengers in a common vehicle. They were then carried along with the general motion of religion in the community, and with⯑out being aware of it, partook of it's influence. In that ſituation, at worſt their nature was left free to counterwork their principles. They de⯑ſpaired of giving any very general currency to their opinions. They conſidered them as a re⯑ſerved privilege for the choſen few. But when the poſſibility of dominion, lead, and propaga⯑tion preſented themſelves, and that the ambi⯑tion, which before had ſo often made them hy⯑pocrites, [162] might rather gain than loſe by a daring avowal of their ſentiments, then the nature of this infernal ſpirit, which has ‘"evil for it's good"’appeared in it's full perfection. Nothing indeed but the poſſeſſion of ſome power can with any certainty diſcover, what at the bottom is the true character of any man. Without read⯑ing the ſpeeches of Vergniaux, Français of Nantz, Iſnard, and ſome others of that ſort, it would not be eaſy to conceive the paſſion, ran⯑cour, and malice of their tongues and hearts. They worked themſelves up to a perfect phrenzy againſt religion and all it's profeſſors. They tore the reputation of the Clergy to pieces by their infuriated declamations and invectives, be⯑fore they lacerated their bodies by their maſ⯑ſacres. This fanatical atheiſm left out, we omit the principal feature in the French Revolution, and a principal conſideration with regard to the effects to be expected from a peace with it.

The other ſort of men were the politicians, To them who had little or not at all reflected on the ſubject, religion was in itſelf no object of love or hatred. They diſbelieved it, and that was all. Neutral with regard to that object, they took the ſide which in the preſent ſtate of things might beſt anſwer their purpoſes. They ſoon found that they could not do without the philo⯑ſophers; [163] and the philoſophers ſoon made them ſenſible, that the deſtruction of religion was to ſupply them with means of conqueſt firſt at home, and then abroad. The philoſophers were the active internal agitators, and ſup⯑plied the ſpirit and principles: the ſecond gave the practical direction. Sometimes the one predominated in the compoſition, ſometimes the other. The only difference between them was in the neceſſity of concealing the general de⯑ſign for a time, and in their dealing with foreign nations; the fanaticks going ſtrait forward and openly, the politicians by the ſurer mode of zigzag. In the courſe of events this, among other cauſes, produced fierce and bloody con⯑tentions between them. But at the bottom they thoroughly agreed in all the objects of am⯑bition and irreligion, and ſubſtantially in all the means of promoting theſe ends.

Without queſtion, to bring about the un⯑exampled event of the French revolution, the concurrence of a very great number of views and paſſions was neceſſary. In that ſtupen⯑dous work, no one principle by which the hu⯑man mind may have it's faculties at once in⯑vigorated and depraved, was left unemployed: but I can ſpeak it to a certainty, and ſupport it by undoubted proofs, that the ruling prin⯑ciple [164] of thoſe who acted in the Revolution as ſtateſmen, had the exterior aggrandizement of France as their ultimate end in the moſt minute part of the internal changes that were made. We, who of late years, have been drawn from an attention to foreign affairs by the importance of our domeſtic diſcuſſions, cannot eaſily form a conception of [...]he general eagerneſs of the active and energetick part of the French nation, itſelf the moſt active and energetick of all nations pre⯑vious to it's revolution, upon that ſubject. I am convinced that the foreign ſpeculators in France, under the old Government, were twenty to one of the ſame deſcription then or now in England; and few of that deſcription there were, who did not emulouſly ſet forward the Revolu⯑tion. The whole official ſyſtem, particularly in the diplomatic part, the regulars, the irregulars, down to the clerks in office, (a corps, without all compariſon, more numerous than the ſame amongſt us) co-operated in it. All the in⯑triguers in foreign politicks, all the ſpies▪ all the intelligencers, actually or late in function, all the candidates for that ſort of employment, acted ſolely upon that principle.

On that ſyſtem of aggrandizement there was but one mind: but two violent factions aroſe about the means. The firſt wiſhed [165] France, diverted from the politicks of the continent, to attend ſolely to her marine, to feed it by an encreaſe of commerce, and thereby to overpower England on her own element. They contended, that if England were diſabled, the Powers on the continent would fall into their proper ſubordination; that it was England which deranged the whole conti⯑nental ſyſtem of Europe. The others, who were by far the more numerous, though not the moſt outwardly prevalent at Court, conſidered this plan for France as contrary to her genius, her ſituation, and her natural means. They agreed as to the ultimate object, the reduction of the Britiſh power, and if poſſible, it's naval power; but they conſidered an aſcendancy on the continent as a neceſſary preliminary to that undertaking. They argued, that the proceed⯑ings of England herſelf had proved the ſound⯑neſs of this policy. That her greateſt and ableſt Stateſmen had not conſidered the ſupport of a continental balance againſt France as a devia⯑tion from the principle of her naval power, but as one of the moſt effectual modes of carrying it into effect. That ſuch had been her po⯑licy ever ſince the Revolution; during which pe⯑riod the naval ſtrength of Great Britain had gone on encreaſing in the direct ratio of her interference in the politicks of the conti⯑nent. [166] With much ſtronger reaſon ought the politicks of France to take the ſame direction; as well for purſuing objects which her ſituation would dictate to her, though England had no exiſtence, as for counteracting the politicks of that nation; to France continental politicks are primary; they looked on them only of ſecon⯑dary conſideration to England, and however neceſſary, but as means neceſſary to an end.

What is truly aſtoniſhing, the partizans of thoſe two oppoſite ſyſtems were at once preva⯑lent, and at once employed, and in the very ſame tranſactions, the one oſtenſibly, the other ſecretly, during the latter part of the reign of Lewis XV. Nor was there one Court in which an Ambaſſador reſided on the part of the Mi⯑niſters, in which another as a ſpy on him did not alſo reſide on the part of the King. They who purſued the ſcheme for keeping peace on the continent, and particularly with Auſtria, acting officially and publickly, the other fac⯑tion counteracting and oppoſing them. Theſe private agents were continually going from their function to the Baſtille, and from the Baſtille to employment, and favour again. An in⯑extricable cabal was formed, ſome of perſons of rank, others of ſubordinates. But by this [167] means the corps of politicians was augmented in number, and the whole formed a body of active, adventuring, ambitious, diſcontented people, deſpiſing the regular Miniſtry, deſpiſ⯑ing the Courts at which they were employed, deſpiſing the Court which employed them.

The unfortunate Louis the Sixteenth ^* was not the firſt cauſe of the evil by which he ſuffer⯑ed. He came to it, as to a ſort of inheritance, by the falſe politicks of his immediate predeceſ⯑ſor. [168] This ſyſtem of dark and perplexed intri⯑gue had come to it's perfection before he came to the throne: and even then the Revolution ſtrongly operated in all it's cauſes.

There was no point on which the diſcontented diplomatic politicians ſo bitterly arraigned their Cabinet, as for the decay of French influ⯑ence in all others. From quarrelling with the Court, they began to complain of Mo⯑narchy itſelf; as a ſyſtem of Government too variable for any regular plan of national ag⯑grandizement. They obſerved, that in that ſort of regimen too much depended on the perſonal character of the Prince; that the vi⯑ciſſitudes produced by the ſucceſſion of Princes of a different character, and even the viciſſitudes produced in the ſame man, by the different views and inclinations belonging to youth, manhood, and age, diſturbed and diſtracted the policy of a country made by nature for extenſive empire, or what was ſtill more to their taſte, for that ſort of general over-ruling influence which pre⯑pared empire or ſupplied the place of it. They had continually in their hands the obſervations of Machiavel on Livy. They had Monteſquieu' [...] Grandeur & Décadence des Romains as a manual and they compared with mortification the ſyſ⯑tematic proceedings of a Roman ſenate with th [...] [169] fluctuations of a Monarchy. They obſerved, the very ſmall additions of territory which all the power of France, actuated by all the ambi⯑tion of France, had acquired in two centuries. The Romans had frequently acquired more in a ſingle year. They ſeverely and in every part of it criticiſed the reign of Louis the XIVth, whoſe irregular and deſultory ambition had more provoked than endangered Europe. In⯑deed, they who will be at the pains of ſeri⯑ouſly conſidering the hiſtory of that period will ſee, that thoſe French politicians had ſome rea⯑ſon. They who will not take the trouble of reviewing it through all it's wars and all it's negociations, will conſult the ſhort but judicious criticiſm of the Marquis de Montalambert on that ſubject. It may be read ſeparately from his ingenious ſyſtem of fortification and military defence, on the practical merit of which I am unable to form a judgment.

The diplomatick politicians of whom I ſpeak, and who formed by far the majority in that claſs, made diſadvantageous compariſons even between their more legal and formaliſing Monarchy, and the monarchies of other ſtates, as a ſyſ⯑tem of power and influence. They obſerved, that France not only loſt ground herſelf, but through the languor and unſteadineſs of her pur⯑ſuits, [170] and from her aiming through commerce at naval force which ſhe never could attain without loſing more on one ſide than ſhe could gain on the other, three great powers, each of them (as military ſtates) capable of balancing her, had grown up on the continent. Ruſſia and Pruſſia had been created almoſt within memory; and Auſtria, though not a new power, and even cur⯑tailed in territory, was by the very colliſion in which ſhe loſt that territory, greatly improved in her military diſcipline and force. Dur⯑ing the reign of Maria Thereſa the interior oeconomy of the country was made more to cor⯑reſpond with the ſupport of great armies than formerly it had been. As to Pruſſia, a merely military power, they obſerved that one war had enriched her with as conſiderable a conqueſt as France had acquired in centuries. Ruſſia had broken the Turkiſh power by which Auſtria might be, as formerly ſhe had been, balanced in favour of France. They felt it with pain, that the two northern powers of Sweden and Denmark were in general under the ſway of Ruſſia; or that at beſt, France kept up a very doubtful conflict, with many fluctuations of fortune, and at an enormous expence in Swe⯑den. In Holland, the French party ſeemed, if not extinguiſhed, at leaſt utterly obſcured, and kept under by a Stadtholder, leaning for ſupport ſometimes on Great Britain, ſometimes [171] on Pruſſia, ſometimes on both, never on France. Even the ſpreading of the Bourbon family had become merely a family accommodation; and had little effect on the national politicks. This alli⯑ance, they ſaid, extinguiſhed Spain by deſtroying all it's energy, without adding any thing to the real power of France in the acceſſion of the forces of it's great rival. In Italy, the ſame family accommodation, the ſame national inſignificance were equally viſible. What cure for the radical weakneſs of the French Monarchy, to which all the means which wit could deviſe, or nature and fortune could beſtow, towards univerſal empire, was not of force to give life, or vigour, or conſiſtency,—but in a republick? Out the word came; and it never went back.

Whether they reaſoned right or wrong, or that there was ſome mixture of right and wrong in their reaſoning, I am ſure, that in this man⯑ner they felt and reaſoned. The different ef⯑fects of a great military and ambitious repub⯑lick, and of a monarchy of the ſame deſcription were conſtantly in their mouths. The principle was ready to operate when opportunities ſhould offer, which few of them indeed foreſaw in the extent in which they were afterwards preſented; but theſe opportunities, in ſome degree or other, they all ardently wiſhed for.

[172]When I was in Paris in 1773, the treaty of 1756 between Auſtria and France was deplored as a national calamity; becauſe it united France in friendſhip with a Power, at whoſe expence alone they could hope any continental aggran⯑dizement. When the firſt partition of Poland was made, in which France had no ſhare, and which had farther aggrandized every one of the three Powers of which they were moſt jealous, I found them in a perfect phrenzy of rage and indignation: Not that they were hurt at the ſhocking and uncoloured violence and injuſtice of that partition, but at the debility, improvi⯑dence, and want of activity in their Govern⯑ment, in not preventing it as a means of aggran⯑dizement to their rivals, or in not contriving, by exchanges of ſome kind or other, to obtain their ſhare of advantage from that robbery.

In that or nearly in that ſtate of things and of opinions, came the Auſtrian match; which promiſed to draw the knot, as after⯑wards in effect it did, ſtill more cloſely be⯑tween the old rival houſes. This added ex⯑ceedingly to their hatred and contempt of their monarchy. It was for this reaſon that the late glorious Queen, who on all accounts was formed to produce general love and admiration, and whoſe life was as mild and beneficent as her death was beyond example great and heroic, be⯑came [173] ſo very ſoon and ſo very much the object of an implacable rancour, never to be extin⯑guiſhed but in her blood. When I wrote my letter in anſwer to M. de Menonville, in the beginning of January, 1791, I had good reaſon for thinking that this deſcription of revolu⯑tioniſts did not ſo early nor ſo ſteadily point their murderous deſigns at the martyr King as at the Royal Heroine. It was accident, and the mo⯑mentary depreſſion of that part of the faction, that gave to the huſband the happy priority in death.

From this their reſtleſs deſire of an over-rul⯑ing influence, they bent a very great part of their deſigns and efforts to revive the old French party, which was a democratick party in Holland, and to make a revolution there. They were happy at the troubles which the ſingular imprudence of Joſeph the Second had ſtirred up in the Auſ⯑trian Netherlands. They rejoiced, when they ſaw him irritate his ſubjects, profeſs philo⯑ſophy, ſend away the Dutch garriſons, and diſmantle his fortifications. As to Holland, they never forgave either the King or the Mini⯑ſtry, for ſuffering that object, which they juſtly looked on as principal in their deſign of reduc⯑ing the power of England, to eſcape out of their hands. This was the true ſecret of the com⯑mercial treaty, made, on their part, againſt all [174] the old rules and principles of commerce, with a view of diverting the Engliſh nation, by a pur⯑ſuit of immediate profit, from an attention to the progreſs of France in it's deſigns upon that Republic. The ſyſtem of the oeconomiſts, which led to the general opening of commerce, facili⯑tated that treaty, but did not produce it. They were in deſpair when they found that by the vigour of Mr. Pitt, ſupported in this point by Mr. Fox and the oppoſition, the object, to which they had ſacrificed their manufactures, was loſt to their ambition.

This eager deſire of raiſing France from the condition into which ſhe had fallen, as they conceived, from her monarchical imbe⯑cillity, had been the main ſpring of their prece⯑dent interference in that unhappy American quarrel, the bad effects of which to this na⯑tion have not, as yet fully diſcloſed themſelves. Theſe ſentiments had been long lurking in their breaſts, though their views were only diſ⯑covered now and then, in heat and as by eſcapes; but on this occaſion they exploded ſuddenly. They were profeſſed with oſtentation, and pro⯑pagated with zeal. Theſe ſentiments were not produced, as ſome think, by their American alliance. The American alliance was produced by their republican principles and republican [175] policy. This new relation undoubtedly did much. The diſcourſes and cabals that it pro⯑duced, the intercourſe that it eſtabliſhed, and above all, the example, which made it ſeem prac⯑ticable to eſtabliſh a Republick in a great extent of country, finiſhed the work, and gave to that part of the Revolutionary faction a degree of ſtrength, which required other energies than the late King proſſeſſed, to reſiſt, or even to reſtrain. It ſpread every where; but it was no where more prevalent than in the heart of the Court. The pa⯑lace of Verſailles, by it's language, ſeemed a forum of democracy. To have pointed out to moſt of thoſe politicians, from their diſpoſitions and move⯑ments, what has ſince happened, the fall of their own Monarchy, of their own Laws, of their own Religion, would have been to furniſh a motive the more for puſhing forward a ſyſtem on which they conſidered all theſe things▪ as incumbrances. Such in truth they were. And we have ſeen them ſucceed not only in the deſtruction of their mo⯑narchy; but in all the objects of ambition that they propoſed from that deſtruction.

When I contemplate the ſcheme on which France is formed, and when I compare it with theſe ſyſtems, with which it is, and ever muſt be in conflict, thoſe things which ſeem as defects in her polity, are the very things which make me tremble. The States of the Chriſtian World have grown up to their preſent magnitude in a [176] great length of time, and by a great variety of accidents. They have been improved to what we ſee them with greater or leſs degrees of fe⯑licity and ſkill. Not one of them has been formed upon a regular plan or with any unity of deſign. As their Conſtitutions are not ſyſ⯑tematical, they have not been directed to any peculiar end, eminently diſtinguiſhed, and ſuper⯑ſeding every other. The objects which they em⯑brace are of the greateſt poſſible variety, and have become in a manner infinite. In all theſe old countries the ſtate has been made to the people, and not the people conformed to the ſtate. Every ſtate has purſued, not only every ſort of ſocial advan⯑tage, but it has cultivated the welfare of every indi⯑vidual. His wants, his wiſhes, even his taſtes have been conſulted. This comprehenſive ſcheme, vir⯑tually produced a degree of perſonal liberty in forms the moſt adverſe to it. That liberty was found, under monarchies ſtiled abſolute, in a degree un⯑known to the ancient commonwealths. From hence the powers of all our modern ſtates, meet in all their movements, with ſome obſtruction. It is therefore no wonder, that when theſe ſtates are to be conſidered as machines to operate for ſome one great end, that this diſſipated and balanced force is not eaſily concentred, or made to bear with the whole nation upon one point.

The Britiſh State is, without queſtion, that which purſues the greateſt variety of ends [177] and is the leaſt diſpoſed to ſacrifice any one of them to another, or to the whole. It aims at taking in the entire circle of human deſires, and ſecuring for them their fair enjoyment. Our le⯑giſlature has been ever cloſely connected, in it's moſt efficient part, with individual feeling and indivi⯑dual intereſt. Perſonal liberty, the moſt lively of theſe feelings and the moſt important of theſe in⯑tereſts, which in other European countries has rather ariſen from the ſyſtem of manners and the habitudes of life, than from the laws of the ſtate, (in which it flouriſhed more from neglect than at⯑tention) in England, has been a direct object of Government.

On this principle England would be the weakeſt power in the whole ſyſtem. Fortunately, how⯑ever, the great riches of this kingdom, ariſing from a vaiety of cauſes, and the diſpoſition of the people, which is as great to ſpend as to accu⯑mulate, has eaſily afforded a diſpoſeable ſurplus that gives a mighty momentum to the ſtate. This dif⯑ficulty, with theſe advantages to overcome it, has called ſorth the talents of the Engliſh financiers, who, by the ſurplus of induſtry poured out by pro⯑digality, have outdone every thing which has been accompliſhed in other nations. The preſent Mi⯑niſter has outdone his predeceſſors; and as a Miniſter of revenue, is far above my power of praiſe. But ſtill there are caſes in which Eng⯑land [178] feels more than ſeveral others, (though they all feel) the perplexity of an immenſe body of ba⯑lanced advantages, and of individual demands, and of ſome irregularity in the whole maſs.

France differs eſſentially from all thoſe Govern⯑ments which are formed without ſyſtem, which exiſt by habit, and which are confuſed with the multitude, and with the complexity of their pur⯑ſuits. What now ſtands as Government in France is ſtruck out at a heat. The deſign is wicked, im⯑moral, impious, oppreſſive; but it is ſpirited and daring; it is ſyſtematick; it is ſimple in it's princi⯑ple; it has unity and conſiſtency in perfection. In that country entirely to cut off a branch of com⯑merce, to extinguiſh a manufacture, to deſtroy the circulation of money, to violate credit, to ſuſpend the courſe of argriculture, even to burn a city, or to lay waſte a province of their own, does not coſt them a moment's anxiety. To them, the will, the wiſh, the want, the liberty, the toil, the blood of indivi⯑duals is as nothing. Individuality is left out of their ſcheme of Government. The ſtate is all in all. Every thing is referred to the production of force; afterwards every thing is truſted to the uſe of it. It is military in it's principle, in it's maxims, in it's ſpirit, and in all it's movements. The ſtate has dominion and conqueſt for it's ſole objects; do⯑minion over minds by proſelytiſm, over bodies by arms.

[179]Thus conſtituted with an immenſe body of na⯑tural means, which are leſſened in their amount only to be increaſed in their effect, France has, ſince the accompliſhment of the Revolution, a complete unity in it's direction. It has deſtroyed every reſource of the State, which depends upon opinion and the good-will of individuals. The riches of convention diſappear. The advantages of nature in ſome meaſure remain; even theſe, I admit, are aſtoniſhingly leſſened; the command ever what remains is complete and abſolute. We go about aſking when aſſignats will expire, and we laugh at the laſt price of them. But what ſignifies the fate of thoſe tickets of deſpotiſm? The deſpotiſm will find deſpotick means of ſup⯑ply. They have found the ſhort cut to the pro⯑ductions of Nature, while others in purſuit of them, are obliged to wind through the labyrinth of a very intricate ſtate of ſociety. They ſeize upon the fruit of the labour; they ſeize upon the labourer himſelf. Were France but half of what it is in population, in compactneſs, in applica⯑bility of it's force, ſituated as it is, and being what it is, it would be too ſtrong for moſt of the States of Eu⯑rope, conſtituted as they are, and proceeding as they proceed. Would it be wiſe to eſtimate what the world of Europe, as well as the world of Aſia, had to dread from Jinghiz Khan, upon a contemplation of the reſources of the cold and barren ſpot in the remoteſt Tartary, from whence firſt iſſued that [180] ſcourge of the human race? Ought we to judge from the exciſe and ſtamp duties of the rocks, or from the paper circulation of the ſands of Arabia, the power by which Mahomet and his tribes laid hold at once on the two moſt powerful Empires of the world; beat one of them totally to the ground, broke to pieces the other, and, in not much lon⯑ger ſpace of time than I have lived, overturned go⯑vernments, laws, manners, religion, and extended an empire from the Indus to the Pyrennees.

Material reſources never have ſupplied, nor ever can ſupply the want of unity in deſign and con⯑ſtancy in purſuit. But unity in deſign, and perſe⯑verance, and boldneſs in purſuit, have never want⯑ed reſources, and never will. We have not con⯑ſidered as we ought the dreadful energy of a State, in which the property has nothin [...] to do with the Government. Reflect, my dear Sir, reflect again and again on a Government, in which the property is in complete ſubjection, and where nothing rules but the mind of deſperate men. The condition of a commonwealth not governed by it's property was a combination of things, which the learned and in⯑genious ſpeculator Harrington, who has to ſed about ſociety into all forms, never could imagine to be poſſible. We have ſeen it; the world has felt it; and if the world will ſhut their eyes to this ſtate of things, they will feel it more. The Rulers there have found their reſources in crimes. The [181] diſcovery is dreadful: the mine exhauſtleſs. They have every thing to gain, and they have nothing to loſe. They have a boundleſs inheritance in hope; and there is no medium for them, betwixt the higheſt elevation, and death with infamy. Never can they who from the miſerable ſervitude of the deſk have been raiſed to Empire, again ſubmit to the bondage of a ſtarving bureau, or the profit of copying muſic, or writing plaidoyers by the ſheet. It has made me often ſmile in bitterneſs, when I have heard talk of an indemnity to ſuch men, pro⯑vided they returned to their allegiance.

From all this, what is my inference? It is, that this new ſyſtem of robbery in France, cannot be rendered ſafe by any art; that it muſt be deſtroyed, or that it will deſtroy all Europe; that to deſtroy that enemy, by ſome means or other, the force op⯑poſed to it ſhould be made to bear ſome analogy and reſemblance to the force and ſpirit which that ſyſtem exerts; that war ought to be made againſt it, in its vulnerable parts. Theſe are my infe⯑rences. In one word, with this Republick nothing independent can co-exiſt. The errors of Louis the XVIth. were more pardonable to prudence, than any of thoſe of the ſame kind into which the Allied Courts may fall. They have the benefit of his dreadful example.

The unhappy Louis XVI. was a man of the beſt [182] intentions that probably ever reigned. He was by no means deficient in talents. He had a moſt laudable deſire to ſupply by general reading, and even by the acquiſition of elemental knowledge, an education in all points originally defective; but nobody told him (and it was no wonder he ſhould not himſelf divine it) that the world of which he read, and the world in which he lived, were no longer the ſame. Deſirous of doing every thing for the beſt, fearful of cabal, diſtruſting his own judgment, he ſought his Miniſters of all kinds upon public teſtimony. But as Courts are the field for caballers, the publick is the theatre for mountebanks and impoſtors. The cure for both thoſe evils is in the diſcernment of the Prince. But an accurate and penetrating diſcernment is what in a young Prince could not be looked for.

His conduct in it's principle was not unwiſe; but, like moſt other of his well-meant deſigns, it failed in his hands. It failed partly from mere ill fortune, to which ſpeculators are rarely pleaſed to aſſign that very large ſhare to which ſhe is juſtly entitled in all human affairs. The failure, perhaps, in part was owing to his ſuffering his ſyſtem to be vitiated and diſturbed by thoſe intrigues, which it is, hu⯑manly ſpeaking, impoſſible wholly to prevent in Courts, or indeed under any form of Government. However, with theſe aberrations, he gave himſelf over to a ſucceſſion of the ſtateſmen of publick [183] opinion. In other things he thought that he might be a King on the terms of his predeceſſors. He was conſcious of the purity of his heart and the general good tendency of his Government. He flattered himſelf, as moſt men in his ſituation will, that he might conſult his eaſe without danger to his ſafety. It is not at all wonderful that both he and his Miniſters, giving way abundantly in other re⯑ſpects to innovation, ſhould take up in policy with the tradition of their monarchy. Under his an⯑ceſtors the Monarchy had ſubſiſted, and even been ſtrengthened by the generation or ſupport of Re⯑publicks. Firſt, the Swiſs Republicks grew un⯑der the guardianſhip of the French Monarchy. The Dutch Republicks were hatched and che⯑riſhed under the ſame incubation. Afterwards, a republican conſtitution was under it's influence eſtabliſhed in the Empire againſt the pretenſions of it's Chief. Even whilſt the Monarchy of France, by a ſeries of wars and negotiations, and laſtly by the treaties of Weſtphalia, had obtained the eſta⯑bliſhment of the Proteſtants in Germany as a law of the Empire, the ſame Monarchy under Louis the XIIIth, had force enough to deſtroy the re⯑publican ſyſtem of the Proteſtants at home.

Louis the XVIth was a diligent reader of hiſ⯑tory. But the very lamp of prudence blinded him. The guide of human life led him aſtray. A ſilent revolution in the moral world preceded the politi⯑cal, [184] and prepared it. It became of more impor⯑tance than ever what examples were given, and what meaſures were adopted. Their cauſes no longer lurked in the receſſes of cabinets, or in the private conſpiracies of the factious. They were no longer to be controlled by the force and influ⯑ence of the grandees, who formerly had been able to ſtir up troubles by their diſcontents, and to quiet them by their corruption. The chain of ſu⯑bordination, even in cabal and ſedition, was broken in it's moſt important links. It was no longer the great and the populace. Other intereſts were form⯑ed, other dependencies, other connexions, other communications. The middle claſſes had ſwelled far beyond their former proportion. Like what⯑ever is the moſt effectively rich and great in ſociety, theſe claſſes became the ſeat of all the active poli⯑ticks; and the preponderating weight to decide on them. There were all the energies by which for⯑tune is acquired; there the conſequence of their ſucceſs. There were all the talents which aſſert their pretenſions, and are impatient of the place which ſettled ſociety preſcribes to them. Theſe deſcriptions had got between the great and the po⯑pulace; and the influence on the lower claſſes was with them. The ſpirit of ambition had taken poſſeſ⯑ſion of this claſs as violently as ever it had done of any other. They felt the importance of this ſitua⯑tion. The correſpondence of the monied and the mercantile world, the literary intercourſe of acade⯑mies; [185] but, above all, the preſs, of which they had in a manner, entire poſſeſſion, made a kind of electrick communication every where. The preſs, in reali⯑ty, has made every Government, in it's ſpirit, al⯑moſt democratick. Without the great, the firſt movements in this revolution could not, perhaps, have been given. But the ſpirit of ambition, now for the firſt time connected with the ſpirit of ſpe⯑culation, was not to be reſtrained at will. There was no longer any means of arreſting a principle in it's courſe. When Louis the XVIth. under the influence of the enemies to Monarchy, meant to found but one Republick, he ſet up two. When he meant to take away half the crown of his neigh⯑bour, he loſt the whole of his own. Louis the XVIth could not with impunity countenance a new Republick: yet between his throne and that dangerous lodgment for an enemy, which he had erected, he had the whole Atlantick for a ditch. He had for an out-work the Engliſh na⯑tion itſelf, friendly to liberty, adverſe to that mode of it. He was ſurrounded by a rampart of Mo⯑narchies, moſt of them allied to him, and generally under his influence. Yet even thus ſecured, a Republick erected under his auſpices, and depen⯑dent on his power, became fatal to his throne. The very money which he had lent to ſupport this Republick, by a good faith, which to him operat⯑ed as perfidy, was punctually paid to his enemies, and became a reſource in the hands of his aſſaſſins.

[186]With this example before their eyes, do any Miniſters in England, do any Miniſters in Au⯑ſtria, really flatter themſelves, that they can erect, not on the remote ſhores of the Atlantick, but in their view, in their vicinity, in abſolute con⯑tact with one of them, not a commercial but a martial Republick—a Republick not of ſimple huſbandmen or fiſhermen, but of intriguers, and of warriors—a Republick of a character the moſt reſtleſs, the moſt enterprizing, the moſt impious, the moſt fierce and bloody, the moſt hypocritical and perfidious, the moſt bold and daring that ever has been ſeen, or indeed that can be conceived to exiſt, without bringing on their own certain ruin?

Such is the Republick to which we are going to give a place in civilized fellowſhip. The Re⯑publick, which with joint conſent we are going to eſtabliſh in the centre of Europe, in a poſt that overlooks and commands every other State, and which eminently confronts and menaces this king⯑dom.

You cannot fail to obſerve, that I ſpeak as if the allied powers were actually conſenting, and not com⯑pelled by events to the eſtabliſhment of this faction in France. The words have not eſcaped me. You will hereafter naturally expect that I ſhould make them good. But whether in adopting this mea⯑ſure [187] we are madly active, or weakly paſſive, or pu⯑ſillanimouſly panick-ſtruck, the effects will be the ſame. You may call this faction, which has era⯑dicated the monarchy,—expelled the proprietary, perſecuted religion, and trampled upon law^*,—you may call this France if you pleaſe: but of the ancient France nothing remains; but it's central geography; it's iron frontier; it's ſpirit of ambition; it's audacity of enterpriſe; it's perplex⯑ing intrigue. Theſe and theſe alone remain; and they remain heightened in their principle and aug⯑mented in their means. All the former correctives, whether of virtue or of weakneſs, which exiſted in the old Monarchy, are gone. No ſingle new corrective is to be found in the whole body of the new inſti⯑tutions. How ſhould ſuch a thing be found there, when everything has been choſen with care and ſelec⯑tion to forward all thoſe ambitious deſigns and diſ⯑poſitions, not to controul them? The whole is a body of ways and means for the ſupply of domi⯑nion, without one heterogeneous particle in it.

Here I ſuffer you to breathe, and leave to your meditation what has occurred to me on the genius and character of the French Revolution. From having this before us, we may be better able to deter⯑mine on the firſt queſtion I propoſed, that is, how [188] far nations, called foreign, are likely to be affected with the ſyſtem eſtabliſhed within that territory? I intended to proceed next on the queſtion of her fa⯑cilities, from the internal ſtate of other nations, and particularly of this, for obtaining her ends: but I ought to be aware, that my notions are controvert⯑ed.—I mean, therefore, in my next letter, to take notice of what, in that way, has been recommend⯑ed to me as the moſt deſerving of notice. In the examination of thoſe pieces, I ſhall have occaſion to diſcuſs ſome others of the topics I have recom⯑mended to your attention. You know, that the Letters which I now ſend to the preſs, as well as a part of what is to follow, have been long ſince written. A circumſtance which your partiality alone could make of importance to you, but which to the publick is of no importance at all, retarded their appearance. The late events which preſs upon us obliged me to make ſome few additions; but no ſubſtantial change in the matter.

This diſcuſſion, my Friend, will be long. But the matter is ſerious; and if ever the fate of the world could be truly ſaid to depend on a particular meaſure, it is upon this peace. For the preſent, farewel.