I have seen, with a mixture of pleasure and apprehension, the progress of events which have lately taken place in your country.  As a friend to mankind and to liberty, I rejoice in the efforts which you are making to establish it, while I fear much for the final success of the attempts, for the fate of those I esteem who are engaged in them, and for the danger in case of success, of innovations greater than will consist with the real felicity of your nation.  If your affairs still go well when this reaches you, you will ask why this foreboding of ill, when all the appearances 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.