In this piece the Regicides,
our worthy friends, (I call them by advance and by courtesy what by law
I shall be obliged to call them hereafter,) our worthy friends, I say,
renew and enforce the former declaration concerning our faith and
sincerity, which they pinned to our passport. On three other points,
which run through all their declarations, they are more explicit than
ever.
First, they more directly undertake to be the real representatives of
the people of this kingdom: and on a supposition, in which they agree
with our Parliamentary reformers, that the House of Commons is not that
representative, the function being vacant, they, as our true
constitutional organ, inform his Majesty and the world of the sense of
the nation. They tell us that "the English people see with regret his
Majesty's government squandering away the funds which had been granted
to him." This astonishing assumption of the public voice of England is
but a slight foretaste of the usurpation which, on a peace, we may be
assured they will make of all the powers in all the parts of our vassal
Constitution. "If they do these things in the green tree, what shall be
done in the dry?"
Next they tell us, as a condition to our treaty, that "this government
must abjure the unjust hatred it bears to them, and at last open its
ears to the voice of humanity." Truly, this is, even from them, an
extraordinary demand. Hitherto, it seems, we have put wax into our ears,
to shut them up against the tender, soothing strains, in the
_affettuoso_ of humanity, warbled from the throats of Reubell, Carnot,
Tallien, and the whole chorus of confiscators, domiciliary visitors,
committee-men of research, jurors and presidents of revolutionary
tribunals, regicides, assassins, massacrers, and Septembrisers.
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