the number of those who composed it, to their dark subtlety, to their fierce audacity, to their admiration of everything that passes in France, to their eager desire of a close communication with the mother faction there.  At this moment, when the question is upon the opening of that communication, not a word of our English Jacobins.  That faction is put out of sight and out of thought.  “It vanished at the crowing of the cock.”  Scarcely had the Gallic harbinger of peace and light begun to utter his lively notes, than all the cackling of us poor Tory geese to alarm the garrison of the Capitol was forgot.[11] There was enough of indemnity before.  Now a complete act of oblivion is passed about the Jacobins of England, though one would naturally imagine it would make a principal object in all fair deliberation upon the merits of a project of amity with the Jacobins of France.  But however others may choose to forget the faction, the faction does not choose to forget itself, nor, however gentlemen may choose to flatter themselves, it does not forget them.

Never, in any civil contest, has a part been taken with more of the warmth, or carried on with more of the arts of a party.  The Jacobins are worse than lost to their country.  Their hearts are abroad.  Their sympathy with the Regicides of France is complete.  Just as in a civil contest, they exult in all their victories, they are dejected and mortified in all their defeats.  Nothing that the Regicides can do (and they have labored hard for the purpose) can alienate them from their cause.  You and I, my dear Lord, have often observed on the spirit of their conduct.  When the Jacobins of France, by their studied, deliberated, catalogued files of murders with the poniard, the sabre, and the tribunal, have shocked whatever remained of human sensibility in our breasts, then it was they distinguished the resources of party policy.  They did not venture directly to confront the public sentiment; for a very short time they seemed to partake of it.  They began with a reluctant and sorrowful confession; they deplored the stains which tarnished the lustre of a good cause.  After keeping a decent time of retirement, in a few days crept out an apology for the excesses of men cruelly irritated by the attacks of unjust power.  Grown bolder, as the first feeling of mankind decayed and the color of these horrors began to fade upon the imagination, they proceeded from apology to defence.  They urged, but still deplored, the absolute necessity of such a proceeding.  Then they made a bolder stride, and marched from defence to recrimination.  They attempted to assassinate the memory of those whose bodies their friends had massacred, and to consider their murder as a less formal act of justice.  They endeavored even to debauch our pity, and to suborn it in favor of cruelty.  They wept over the lot of those who were driven by the crimes of aristocrats to republican vengeance.  Every pause of their cruelty they considered as a return of their natural