ances have been so much in your favor. I will tell you: I dread
disagreements among those who are now united (which will be likely to be
improved by the adverse party) about the nature of your constitution; I
dread the vehement character of your people, whom I fear you may find it
more easy to bring on, than to keep within proper bounds after you
have put them in motion. I dread the interested refractoriness of your
nobles, who cannot all be gratified, and who may be unwilling to
submit to the requisite sacrifices. And I dread the reveries of your
philosophic politicians, who appear in the moment to have great
influence, and who, being mere speculatists, may aim at more refinement
than suits either with human nature, or the composition of your nation.

* * * * *

=_Fisher Ames, 1738-1808._= (Manual, p. 487.)

From the "Speech on the British Treaty." April 15, 1795.

=_68._= OBLIGATION OF NATIONAL GOOD FAITH.

The consequences of refusing to make provision for the treaty are not
all to be foreseen. By rejecting, vast interests are committed to the
sport of the winds: chance becomes the arbiter of events, and it is
forbidden to human foresight to count their number, or measure their
extent. Before we resolve to leap into this abyss, so dark and so
profound, it becomes us to pause, and reflect upon such of the dangers
as are obvious and inevitable. If this assembly should be wrought into
a temper to defy these consequences, it is vain, it is deceptive, to
pretend that we can escape them. It is worse than weakness to say, that
as to public faith, our vote has already settled the question. Another
tribunal than our own is already erected; the public opinion, not merely
of our own country, but of the enlightened world, will pronounce a
judgment that we cannot resist, that we dare not even affect to despise.

... This, sir, is a cause that would be dishonored and betrayed if I
contented myself with appealing only to the understanding. It is too
cold, and its processes are too slow, for the occasion. I desire to
thank God that since he has given me an intellect so fallible, he has
impressed upon me an instinct that is sure. On a question of shame and
honor, reasoning is sometimes useless, and worse. I feel the decision in
my pulse; if it throws no light upon the brain, it kindles a fire at the
heart.

What is patriotism? Is it a narrow affection for the spot where a man
was born? Are the