The odium excited throughout Europe by the excesses of the French Revolution, was heaped without measure upon the American people.  They were charged with the origin of the misrule which convulsed France, and filled the eastern hemisphere with alarm:  and were tauntingly pointed to the crude theories promulgated by French democracy, and the failure of their phrenzied efforts to establish an enlightened and permanent Republic, as conclusive evidence that self-government, among any people, was a mere Utopian dream, which could never be realized.

The establishment of a republican government in America, had not been relished by the monarchies of Europe.  They looked upon it with distrust, as a precedent dangerous to them in the highest degree.  The succor which Louis XVI. had rendered the revolting colonists, was not from a love of democratic institutions:  it was his hope to cripple Great Britain, his ancient enemy, and to find some opportunity, perhaps, to win back his Canadian provinces, which had so recently been rent from his possession.  When the pent-up flames of revolution burst forth at the very doors of the governments of the old world—­when the French throne had been robbed of its king, and that king of his life—­when a Republic had been proclaimed in their midst, and signal-notes of freedom were ringing in their borders—­they became seriously alarmed.  The growing evil must be checked immediately.  Led on by England, the continental powers combined to exterminate at a blow, if possible, every vestige of Republicanism in France.  Then commenced the long series of bloody wars, which, with little intermission, convulsed Europe for nearly a quarter of a century, and ceased only when the rock of St. Helena received its lonely exile.

In the meantime affairs at home had attained to a critical juncture.  The Constitution had been adopted.  The new government had been set in operation under the supervision of Washington, as the first President of the Republic.  The people, influenced by certain “elective affinities,” had become sundered into two great political parties—­Conservative and Progressive, or Federal and Democratic.  Both were distrustful of the Constitution.  The former believed it too weak to consolidate a government capable of protecting its subjects in the peaceful enjoyment of their rights, from discord within, and attacks from without.  The latter apprehended that it might easily be transformed, by some ambitious Napoleon, into an instrument of oppression, more fearful even than the limited monarchy from which they had but recently escaped, at an expense of so much blood and treasure.  Each of these parties are entitled to the credit of equal sincerity and honesty of purpose.