Why do they complain, that the West Indies are not laid open?  Why do they lament, that any restriction is stipulated on the commerce of the East Indies?  Why do they pretend, that if they reject this, and insist upon more, more will be accomplished?  Let us be explicit—­more would not satisfy.  If all was granted, would not a treaty of amity with Great Britain still be obnoxious?  Have we not this instant heard it urged against our envoy, that he was not ardent enough in his hatred of Great Britain?  A treaty of amity is condemned because it was not made by a foe, and in the spirit of one.  The same gentleman, at the same instant, repeats a very prevailing objection, that no treaty should be made with the enemy of France.  No treaty, exclaim others, should be made with a monarch or a despot; there will be no naval security while those sea-robbers domineer on the ocean; their den must be destroyed; that nation must be extirpated.

I like this, sir, because it is sincerity.  With feelings such as these, we do not pant for treaties.  Such passions seek nothing, and will be content with nothing, but the destruction of their object.  If a treaty left King George his island, it would not answer; not if he stipulated to pay rent for it.  It has been said, the world ought to rejoice if Britain was sunk in the sea; if where there are now men and wealth and laws and liberty, there was no more than a sand bank for sea monsters to fatten on; a space for the storms of the ocean to mingle in conflict.

What is patriotism?  Is it a narrow affection for the spot where a man was born?  Are the very clods where we tread entitled to this ardent preference because they are greener?  No, sir, this is not the character of the virtue, and it soars higher for its object.  It is an extended self-love, mingling with all the enjoyments of life, and twisting itself with the minutest filaments of the heart.  It is thus we obey the laws of society, because they are the laws of virtue.  In their authority we see, not the array of force and terror, but the venerable image of our country’s honor.  Every good citizen makes that honor his own, and cherishes it not only as precious, but as sacred.  He is willing to risk his life in its defence, and is conscious that he gains protection while he gives it.  For, what rights of a citizen will be deemed inviolable when a state renounces the principles that constitute their security?  Or if his life should not be invaded, what would its enjoyments be in a country odious in the eyes of strangers and dishonored in his own?  Could he look with affection and veneration to such a country as his parent?  The sense of having one would die within him; he would blush for his patriotism, if he retained any, and justly, for it would be a vice.  He would be a banished man in his native land.  I see no exception to the respect that is paid among nations to the law of good faith.  If there are cases in this enlightened period when it is violated, there are none when it