That day was, I fear, the fatal term of local patriotism.  On that day, I fear, there was an end of that narrow scheme of relations called our country, with all its pride, its prejudices, and its partial affections.  All the little quiet rivulets, that watered an humble, a contracted, but not an unfruitful field, are to be lost in the waste expanse, and boundless, barren ocean of the homicide philanthropy of France.  It is no longer an object of terror, the aggrandizement of a new power which teaches as a professor that philanthropy in the chair, whilst it propagates by arms and establishes by conquest the comprehensive system of universal fraternity.  In what light is all this viewed in a great assembly?  The party which takes the lead there has no longer any apprehensions, except those that arise from not being admitted to the closest and most confidential connections with the metropolis of that fraternity.  That reigning party no longer touches on its favorite subject, the display of those horrors that must attend the existence of a power with such dispositions and principles, seated in the heart of Europe.  It is satisfied to find some loose, ambiguous expressions in its former declarations, which may set it free from its professions and engagements.  It always speaks of peace with the Regicides as a great and an undoubted blessing, and such a blessing as, if obtained, promises, as much as any human disposition of things can promise, security and permanence.  It holds out nothing at all definite towards this security.  It only seeks, by a restoration to some of their former owners of some fragments of the general wreck of Europe, to find a plausible plea for a present retreat from an embarrassing position.  As to the future, that party is content to leave it covered in a night of the most palpable obscurity.  It never once has entered into a particle of detail of what our own situation, or that of other powers, must be, under the blessings of the peace we seek.  This defect, to my power, I mean to supply,—­that, if any persons should still continue to think an attempt at foresight is any part of the duty of a statesman, I may contribute my trifle to the materials of his speculation.

As to the other party, the minority of to-day, possibly the majority of to-morrow, small in number, but full of talents and every species of energy, which, upon the avowed ground of being more acceptable to France, is a candidate for the helm of this kingdom, it has never changed from the beginning.  It has preserved a perennial consistency.  This would be a never failing source of true glory, if springing from just and right; but it is truly dreadful, if it be an arm of Styx, which springs out of the profoundest depths of a poisoned soil.  The French maxims were by these gentlemen at no time condemned.  I speak of their language in the most moderate terms.  There are many who think that they have gone much further,—­that they have always magnified and extolled the French maxims,—­that; not in the least disgusted or discouraged by the monstrous evils which have attended these maxims from the moment of their adoption both at home and abroad, they still continue to predict that in due time they must produce the greatest good to the poor human race.  They obstinately persist in stating those evils as matter of accident, as things wholly collateral to the system.