When they had thus drawn from us all that they could draw out, they expelled Lord Malmesbury, and they appealed, for the propriety of their conduct, to that very France which we thought proper to suppose had driven them to this fine concession:  and I do not find that in either division of the family of thieves, the younger branch, or the elder, or in any other body whatsoever, there was any indignation excited, or any tumult raised, or anything like the virulence of opposition which was shown to the king’s ministers here, on account of that transaction.

Notwithstanding all this, it seems a hope is still entertained that the Directory will have that tenderness for the carcass of their country, by whose very distemper, and on whose festering wounds, like vermin, they are fed, that these pious patriots will of themselves come into a more moderate and reasonable way of thinking and acting.  In the name of wonder, what has inspired our ministry with this hope any more than with their former expectations?

Do these hopes only arise from continual disappointment?  Do they grow out of the usual grounds of despair?  What is there to encourage them, in the conduct or even in the declarations of the ruling powers in France, from the first formation of their mischievous republic to the hour in which I write?  Is not the Directory composed of the same junto?  Are they not the identical men who, from the base and sordid vices which belonged to their original place and situation, aspired to the dignity of crimes,—­and from the dirtiest, lowest, most fraudulent, and most knavish of chicaners, ascended in the scale of robbery, sacrilege, and assassination in all its forms, till at last they had imbrued their impious hands in the blood of their sovereign?  Is it from these men that we are to hope for this paternal tenderness to their country, and this sacred regard for the peace and happiness of all nations?

But it seems there is still another lurking hope, akin to that which duped us so egregiously before, when our delightful basis was accepted:  we still flatter ourselves that the public voice of France will compel this Directory to more moderation.  Whence does this hope arise?  What public voice is there in France?  There are, indeed, some writers, who, since this monster of a Directory has obtained a great, regular, military force to guard them, are indulged in a sufficient liberty of writing; and some of them write well, undoubtedly.  But the world knows that in France there is no public,—­that the country is composed but of two descriptions, audacious tyrants and trembling slaves.  The contests between the tyrants is the only vital principle that can be discerned in France.  The only thing which there appears like spirit is amongst their late associates, and fastest friends of the Directory,—­the more furious and untamable part of the Jacobins.  This discontented member of the faction does almost balance the reigning divisions, and it threatens every