It is not to be inferred from these remarks, that France is less our friend, or more our emeny, than Great Britain. The friendship of nations is no broader than their interest. Each pursues its own object, in different channels, and under different shapes, but with equal disregard to the interest of others.
How much farther the power of France may be extended, what new channels it may hereafter scoop to itself, is impossible to determine. No friend, however, of the human race, can wish to see it extended farther. It is infatuation to desire one nation to be made absolutely supreme over all others. Yet there are men who would rejoice to see the Island of Great Britain a colony of France, a patrimony to some one of the Bonapartes or Beauharnois; there are men who would exult if the "iron sceptre of the ocean should pass into his hands who wears the iron crown of the land."[1] Heaven protect this country and the civilzied world against such an event! Britain is entitled to no merit for fighting for her own existence; she is contending, not for us, but for herself. Standing, however, as she doth, the sole obstacle to universal power in Europe, it is the part of unutterable folly to desire her fall.
Such, fellow-citizens, are the principal nations with which fortune hath connected us, in the intercourse of the world. Against the power of either, there is nerve and muscle enough in this country to defend our government, if wisdom enlighten our councils, and union give energy to our exertions. States seldom fall till they have deserved their fate. The history of the world hath furnished few instances, and the last hundred years afford none, of any nation falling beneath the crush of superior power, united, courageous, and patriotic. Armies will be easily repulsed if you have in the first place checked the "torrent floods" of disunion and faction. You will withstand the shock of military hosts, if you have successfully withstood the onset of corrupt opinions, which, like the locusts of Egypt, "come soaring on the Eastern wind."
These first duties depend on our virtue and our patriotism. Without these, it is vain to talk of a good government; and with them, it is not easy to have a bad one. A correct and energetic tone of public morals is the prop on which free constitutions rest. After all that can be said, the truth is, that liberty consists more in the morals and habits of the people, than in any thing else. When the public mind becomes thoroughly vitiated and depraved, every attempt to preserve public liberty must be vain. Laws are then a nullity, and constitutions waste paper. Can you check the wind with a song, or stay the ocean with a bullrush? Then you may think of opposing constitutions and charters to the progress of an ambitious usurper, encouraged in his views, and supported in his measures, by a corrupt and profligate community. The Cæsars and Catalines have their only check in the public morality. When they rise up to do evil, they must find themselves standing alone. Experience hath certified the truth, till inspiration could not make it clearer, that foreign power, or domestic violence, will assuredly totter down that edifice of freedom which is not founded on public virtue.
But virtue hath its essence in religious sentiment. Without that, virtue is a realm of frost. Its influence is colder than the northern star. The temple and the altar are the best pledges of national happiness, and he that worships there is the best citizen. It is well to cherish the expectation of future being. Would you have good citizens? Leave to men, then, the consolations of religious hope. The altar of our freedom should be placed near the altar of our religion. Thus shall the same Almighty Power who protects his own worship, protect also our liberties.
Finally, let us cherish true patriotism. Let not the currency of the counterfeit tempt us to disbelieve the existence of the genuine. There is a sentiment
- ↑ Mr. Randolph.
