o the crown;
and those who did not pretend to the whole, aimed at the partition of
the monarchy. There were almost as many competitors as provinces; and
all abetted by the greatest, the most ambitious, and most enterprising
power in Europe. No place safe from treason; no, not the bosoms on which
the most amiable prince that ever lived reposed his head; not his
mistresses; not even his queen. As to the finances, they had scarce an
existence, but as a matter of plunder to the managers, and of grants to
insatiable and ungrateful courtiers.

How can our author have the heart to describe this as any sort of
parallel to our situation? To be sure, an April shower has some
resemblance to a waterspout; for they are both wet: and there is some
likeness between a summer evening's breeze and a hurricane; they are
both wind: but who can compare our disturbances, our situation, or our
finances, to those of France in the time of Henry? Great Britain is
indeed at this time wearied, but not broken, with the efforts of a
victorious foreign war; not sufficiently relieved by an inadequate
peace, but somewhat benefited by that peace, and infinitely by the
consequences of that war. The powers of Europe awed by our victories,
and lying in ruins upon every side of us. Burdened indeed we are with
debt, but abounding with resources. We have a trade, not perhaps equal
to our wishes, but more than ever we possessed. In effect, no pretender
to the crown; nor nutriment for such desperate and destructive factions
as have formerly shaken this kingdom.

As to our finances, the author trifles with us. When Sully came to those
of France, in what order was any part of the financial system? or what
system was there at all? There is no man in office who must not be
sensible that ours is, without the act of any parading minister, the
most regular and orderly system perhaps that was ever known; the best
secured against all frauds in the collection, and all misapplication in
the expenditure of public money.

I admit that, in this flourishing state of things, there are appearances
enough to excite uneasiness and apprehension. I admit there is a
cankerworm in the rose:

Medio de fonte leporum
Surgit amari aliquid, quod in ipsis floribus angat.

This is nothing else than a spirit of disconnection, of distrust, and of
treachery among public men. It is no accidental evil, nor has its effect
been trusted to the usual frailty of nature; the dis