navy. While that rides mistress of the ocean, the French can no more pass it to attack us, than they could ford the bottomless pit. HITHERTO We have designedly avoided all party topicks. We have gone upon the supposition, that the democrats do not wish their children slaves to Buonaparte, any more than our own. We take it for clear, that it is of more national importance to be free, than to carry coffee to Amsterdam. If, then, we have so great interests depending, we cannot but wonder, that Mr. Jefferson should endanger them for the sake of minor interests, which are, in comparison, but as the small dust of the balance. He professes to aim his measures at the destruction of the British "tyranny of the seas;" and he seems to exult in the thought, that they are adequate to his end. God forbid that they should be! God, of his mercy, forbid, that, after having led our forefathers by the hand, and, as it were, by his immediate power planted a great nation in the wilderness, he should permit the passions or the errours of our chief to plunge us into ruin and slavery. Shall this French magog be allowed to pluck our star from its sphere, and quench its bright orb in the sea? It is apprehended, that Mr. Jefferson is entirely convinced, that Great Britain is now making her expiring efforts. It is said, he holds it impossible, that she should resist Buonaparte two years longer. Then let him wear sackcloth. Let him gather a colony, and lead them to hide from a conqueror's pursuit in the trackless forests near the sources of the Missouri. Frost, hunger, and poverty will not gripe so hard as Buonaparte. BUT, if he expects the speedy destruction of Great Britain, what motive has he to exert himself to hasten it. He knows mankind, he knows Buonaparte too well to hope, that the tyrant's hand will be the lighter for that merit. That bosom, so notoriously steeled against pity, will not melt to friendship. Among the infinite diversity of a madman's dreams, was there ever one so extravagant, as that a republick might safely trust its liberty to the sentiment of a master? Every moon-beam at Washington must have shot frenzy, if such a motive among politicians could have influenced action. If liberty should fall, as it will, if France prevails, at least, let us have the consolation to say, our hands have not assisted in the assassination. BUT is it so very clear, that Great Britain will fall in the conflict? A youthful conqueror, scorning all doubts of the unlimited efficiency of his power, has prohibited the use of British manufactures, and all intercourse even of neutrals with her merchants. He expects to cut off the roots of her greatness, or to see her wither, like a girdled oak, and her tall trunk nodding to its fall, making it dangerous to approach her. He seems, like many of our politicians, to suppose, that her greatness is factitious, and that her foreign trade is the aliment and life of its support. For our part, we deem her grandeur intrinsick, the fair fruit of her constitution, her justice, her arts, and her magnanimity. But, as we mean to avoid contested points, we restrain ourselves to consider the effect of Buonaparte's decrees to ruin her. He is neither omnipotent nor omniscient. Of course, we imagine, that distance, art, avarice, and necessity will conspire to elude his vindictive blockading orders. If he succeeds, we hope he will not conquer England. If he fails, as we trust he will fail, his attempt will furnish her with augmented means of a perpetual resistance. British goods will be clandestinely admitted into the continent, after they have been charged with British duties. The scarcity will augment the price, so that the duty will not prevent the sale; on the contrary, there will be the strongest allurements of profit. The French government will be so far from able to suppress the traffick, that we are rather to expect it will be itself under the necessity of occasionally relaxing the rigour of its decrees. After having for some time contemplated the effect of Buonaparte's decrees, we have gradually subdued our fears of the impoverishment of Great Britain from their operation. NOR let Mr. Jefferson imagine, that our country can derive any temporary advantage from our co-operation in his decrees. He disdains to wait for the slow progress of art to accomplish his purposes. He now expects to win allies only by terrour. Let them hate, if they do but fear, is his maxim. If Great Britain enforces her countervailing orders, our neutrality cannot longer assist to supply his wants. Enraged to be thus met by Great Britain, nothing remains but for him to intimidate Mr. Jefferson into an alliance. The world's master allows no neutrality. In fact there are no neutrals. The maritime law supposes a society of nations bound together by reciprocal rights and duties. That society is dissolved; and it is chimerical, if not unwarrantable, for the United States to claim singly the aggregated and supposed residuary rights devolved upon us by the departed nations. The old system is gone; and it is a mockery, or worse, for one nation to affect to represent a dozen once independent states, now swallowed up by a conqueror. Ambition will violate our moonshine rights; and if we submit to his decrees, we ourselves violate our neutral duties. What tyranny will do in contempt of right, selfpreservation permits the other belligerent to do in strict conformity with it. Where, then, is neutrality? Let us be ashamed of a petulent strife about lost and irrecoverable pretensions. It is a sort of posthumous wisdom, that, when the publick dangers thicken, always looks back, and never looks. round our actual position. Why should we not look our condition in the face? The question is not about the profits of navigation, but the security of our existence. WHY do our publick men wilfully blind themselves, and regard no dangers but such as they apprehend from the hostility of party? The earth we tread on holds the bones of the deceased patriots of the revolution. Why will the sacred silence of the grave be broken? Will the illustrious shades walk forth into pubiick places, and audibly pronounce a warn◄ ing to convince us, that the independence, for which they bled, is in danger? No; without a miracle, the exercise of our reason would convince us, that our independence is in danger from France; and, if Great Britain falls by force, terrour alone would bring us into subjection. We do not love or respect our country less than those, who inconsiderately boast of its invincible strength and prowess. As the destroyer of nations has enslaved Europe, and as only one nation, Great Britain, has hindered his coming here to conquer us, they have no ears to hear, they have no hearts to feel for our country, who would break down that obstacle and let him in. THIS is not a party effusion; it proceeds from hearts that are ready to burst with anxiety on the prospect of the political insanity that seems ready to join the foe. It is republican suicide, it is treachery to the people, to make them an innocent sacrifice to the passions of our rulers. LET Mr. Jefferson avail himself of the power, that his weight with his own party gives him, and stop the progress of our fate. We do not ask him to go to war with France. Consult prudence, and renounce the affection of that false honour, which has been of late so much upon our lips. He will find the federalists love their country better than their party. Let there be peace, merely peace, we say nothing of alliance with Great Britain; and if our champion falls in the combat, let us not, when we perish, deplore the fatal folly of having contributed to hasten his and our destruction. IN February 1805, the following sketch of a dissertation on “The Dangers of American Liberty," accompanied with a short familiar letter+, was sent by Mr. Ames to a friend for his perusal. It was soon returned, for the purposes expressed in the author's letter, with a hope that he would re-consider, revise, and complete it; and especially that he would fulfil his original design of applying his argument in a manner, that would lead the people to preserve as long as possible the civil blessings they enjoy, and not sacrifice them to delusive theories. It does not appear, that the author ever resumed his subject, or that the manuscript was opened after that period, until since his death. Yet it is thought not improper to gratify the publick with a work, which, though quite imperfect, would, if it had been finished, have been found deeply interesting to its welfare. que sint. Sic tibi persuade, me dies et noctes nihil aliud agere, nihil curare, nisi ut mei cives salvi libert Ep. Famil. 1. 24. Be assured, therefore, that neither day nor night have I any cares, any labours, but for the safety and freedom of my fellow citizens. IA AM not positive, that it is of any immediate use to our country, that its true friends should better understand one another; nor am I apprehensive, that the crudities, which my ever hasty pen confides to my friends, will essentially mislead their opinion in respect either to myself or to publick affairs. At a time when men eminently wise cherish almost any hopes, however vain, because they choose to be blind to their fears, it would be neither extraordinary nor disreputable for me to mistake the degree of maturity, to which our political vices have arrived, nor to err in computing how near or how far off we stand from the term of their fatal consummation. I FEAR, that the future fortunes of our country no longer depend on counsel. We have persevered in our errours too + The following is the letter of Mr. Ames, mentioned above: My dear Friend, YOU will see the deficiencies and faults of this performance. You will see, that the conclusion, if your life and patience should hold out to the end, is incomplete. There is, I dare say, tautology, perhaps contradiction. It is an effusion from the mind of the stock that was |