"There is nothing changed, if, while France is occupied in preparing the new social compact, that shall guaranty the liberty of her citizens, and the triumph of those generous ideas, that prevail in Europe, and can no longer be stifled; she be not compelled, to call off her attention from these pacific ideas, and from the means of domestic prosperity, to which the people and their chief are desirous of devoting themselves in happy concord, in order to prepare for battle. "There is nothing changed, if, while the French nation demands nothing, but to remain at peace with all Europe, an unjust coalition do not oblige her to defend, as it did in 1792, her will, and her rights, and her independence, and the sovereign of her choice." This eloquent refutation, full of irrefragable facts, and reasonings not to be refuted, was no longer necessary. French honour had judged and condemned the Congress of Vienna and its Declaration. When this declaration appeared, France grew pale: she was astonished, affrighted at the calamities, which the future boded; and groaned at the idea of being exposed to a war for the sake of one single man. This first impression over, her pride, her virtue, felt indignant, that the allies should dare to conceive the thought, that she would yield to their menaces, and cowardly consent, to give Napoleon up to them. Had Napoleon been no more than a simple citizen, the attempt to violate by authority the rights of men and nations in his person would have been sufficient, to induce the French, or at least all worthy of the name, to think themselves obliged to protect and defend him. But Napoleon was not merely a simple citizen, he was the head of the French nation: it was for having aggrandized it by his conquests, and ennobled it by his victories, that he was proscribed by foreigners; and the most timid as well as the most generous made it their sacred duty to place him under the safeguard of the nation, and of French honour. Thus the declaration of the Congress, instead of intimidating France, heightened its courage; instead of separating Napoleon from the French, drew still more close the bands that united them; instead of calling down on his head the public vengeance, rendered him more estimable and more dear in the eyes of the people. If Napoleon, availing himself of these generous sentiments, had said to the French: "You have restored to me the crown, foreigners are desirous of tearing it from me; I am ready, either to defend it, or to lay it down; say which I shall do:" the whole nation would have understood Napoleon, and would have risen in a body, to cause the sovereign of its heart and its choice to be respected.