whole Atlantic for a ditch. He had for an out-work
the English nation itself, friendly to liberty, adverse to that mode
of it. He was surrounded by a rampart of monarchies, most of them
allied to him, and generally under his influence. Yet even thus
secured, a republic erected under his auspices, and dependent on his
power, became fatal to his throne. The very money which he had lent to
support this republic, by a good faith, which to him operated as
perfidy, was punctually paid to his enemies, and became a resource in
the hands of his assassins.

With this example before their eyes, do any ministers in England, do
any ministers in Austria, really flatter themselves that they can
erect, not on the remote shores of the Atlantic, but in their view, in
their vicinity, in absolute contact with one of them, not a commercial
but a martial republic--a republic not of simple husbandmen or
fishermen, but of intriguers, and of warriors--a republic of a
character the most restless, the most enterprising, 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 republic to which we are going to give a place in
civilised fellowship: the republic, 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 kingdom.

You cannot fail to observe that I speak as if the allied powers were
actually consenting, and not compelled 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 measure we are madly active, or weakly passive, or
pusillanimously panic struck, the effects will be the same. You may
call this faction, which has eradicated 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 its central geography; its iron frontier; its spirit of ambition;
its audacity of enterprise; its perplexing intrigue. These, and these
alone, remain: and they remain heightened in their principle and
augmented in their means. All the former correctives, whether of
virtue or of weakness, which existed in the old mo