In the first place, we seem to have been more possessed with the ancient Greek spirit of jealous emulation than actuated with the prudent views of modern politics. Our wars with France have been begun with justice, and even, perhaps, from necessity; but have always been too far pushed from obstinacy and passion. The same peace which was afterwards made at Ryswick in 1697 was offered so early as the ninety-two; that concluded at Utrecht in 1712 might have been finished on as good conditions at Gertruytenberg in the eight; and we might have given at Frankfort in 1743 the same terms which we were glad to accept of at Aix-la-Chapelle in the forty-eight. Here then we see that above half of our wars with France, and all our public debts, are owing more to our own imprudent vehemence than to the ambition of our neighbours. In the second place, we are so declared in our opposition to French power, and so alert in defence of our allies, that they always reckon upon our force as upon their own, and expecting to carry on war at our expense, refuse all reasonable terms of accommodation. _Habent subjectos, tanquam suos; viles, ut alienos._ All the world knows that the factious vote of the House of Commons in the beginning of the last Parliament, with the professed humour of the nation, made the Queen of Hungary inflexible in her terms, and prevented that agreement with Prussia which would immediately have restored the general tranquillity of Europe. In the third place, we are such true combatants that, when once engaged, we lose all concern for ourselves and our posterity, and consider only how we may best annoy the enemy. To mortgage our revenues at so deep a rate in wars where we are only accessories was surely the most fatal delusion that a nation, who had any pretension to politics and prudence, has ever yet been guilty of. That remedy of funding—if it be a remedy and not rather a poison—ought, in all reason, to be reserved to the last extremity, and no evil but the greatest and most urgent should ever induce us to embrace so dangerous an expedient. These excesses to which we have been carried are prejudicial, and may perhaps in time become still more prejudicial another way, by begetting, as is usual, the opposite extreme, and rendering us totally careless and supine with regard to the fate of Europe. The Athenians, from the most bustling, intriguing, warlike people of Greece, finding their error in thrusting themselves into every quarrel, abandoned all attention to foreign affairs, and in no contest ever took party on either side, except by their flatteries and complaisance to the victor.