Richmond Enquirer

RICHMOND, (Va.) OCTOBER 21.

FRANCE AND AMERICA.

We believe it is Fenelon who says, that a Good Prince must be the most unhappy man in his dominions. There are so many evils which he is unable to remedy, so much misconduct in the servants whom he trusts, so many reproaches thrown upon him for the faults of others, that his bosom must be eternally the seat of care or remorse. But if such be the case of other Princes, what must at this moment be the situation of the monarch, who is nicknamed the King of France? If he be free from those conscientious qualms, which haunt the pillow of the good Prince, he is the prey of anxieties, to which the Prince that is quietly seated on his throne, is a stranger. A Prince without a sceptre, a slave in his own palace, a play-thing for the whims of the foreigners who surround him, despised by them, despised as well as hated by the majority of his own people, despicable even in his own eyes—such is the miserable pageant, who pretends to fill the throne of France!—If he were a good Prince, he must poignantly feel for the peculiar calamities of his people. If he be a weak one, he must feel for himself. Which way can he turn for consolation? If to his allies, he sees them stripping his subjects of all that is valuable—If to his subjects, he finds no friends there to console them—Some of them regard him as an Usurper who has been forced upon them by foreign bayonets; while others, who would have bowed before his own pretensions, must curse him for the calamities with which his protectors have scourged his kingdom. If he has any feelings, infinitely more degraded and wretched must be his lot, than that of Bonaparte, driven from a throne and banished to a distant Island. Can any situation be more humiliating? If his allies quit him, his own subjects may expel him. If they remain with him, his subjects are ready to cut his throat for it.—If the foreign troops depart the realm, he has no longer a realm to rule.—If they continue, they rule the realm for him.—Without their assistance, he is no longer a King—and with them, he is no King at all. The very troops which preserve him on his throne, strip it of all its power. The very friends who protect him, grind his people "to dust and ashes."

"If we quit you, (say the allies,) your own people will dethrone you—and, therefore, we must continue."

"If you continue, (replies Louis,) you drive them to desperation.—While you are professing yourselves my friends, you are in fact my enemies. The resentments, which you are kindling in the heart of France, will alienate my people and consume my throne!"

So hard is the alternative to which he is reduced, that if he submits to his allies, he will be for ever disgraced in the eyes of his people;—if he resists them, they will tear his kingdom in pieces. But if he be degraded, how much are they disgraced! If his situation be a mean one, how infamous has been their conduct! They entered France with every profession of amity teeming from their lips. They came, not to conquer, but to conciliate; not to bring in the Bourbons, but to drive out the Bonapartes.—As soon as the Usurper was disposed of, France was to be at liberty to choose her own Constitution.—Yet no sooner was Bonaparte dismissed, and the allies fixed in Paris, than the determination was avowed to support Louis on the throne. The people were to be spared, their property was to be respected—Yet no sooner was all opposition allayed by these seductive promises, than they were infamously violated.—No sooner had they dropt the sword under a promise of impunity, than the Robber claps his pistol to their breast and demands their money. This unheard-of breach of faith, was the forerunner of every indignity. Troops were quartered on their towns; enormous requisitions imposed; their private property plundered, their public monuments defaced. Alas! poor France! how wretched is thy condition! Disgraced by a Ruler, who has usurped thy throne—and abused by allies, who promised you protection. They pledged themselves to restore order! But confusion and disorder every where follow in their train. They were to restore peace to agitated Europe; but they are scattering the elements of new wars. They promised to deliver Europe; and France, is now invoking Heaven to deliver her from her deliverers! How this miserable tale will wind up, it is impossible to say. If the insolent vaunts of the English are to be considered as any indications of the schemes of the Allies, new mischiefs are yet in reserve for their miserable victim. France is not only to be shorn of her honor, but her territory. The London Prints assure us, that the king is impotent, and that the allies must enforce his ordinances; that notwithstanding this imbecility, France must not expect to retain all her territory; that she is too strong for the other parts of Europe; and that it is the duty of Europe to weaken her power, and prevent her from reviving her ambitious projects. And this language is held, after it has been confessed that it was Bonaparte, and not France, who was the author of these projects; and, while no difficulty is expressed as to extending the power of Russia—a power, whose little finger at some future day is destined to be stronger than all the loins of France. But whatever be the issue of the scenes of France; whether they are to terminate with the division of her territories, or whether she is only to be cursed with the presence of foreign bayonets until they imagine the king is strong enough to cover himself with the bayonets he is himself collecting; however mean is his situation or however infamous is theirs: there is one point in which they all agree—to extinguish the last embers of the Revolution; to trample in the dust the liberties of the people; and to support the miserable farce of the legitimate rights of the "true King." And shall we, citizens of America, close our eyes against these portentous doctrines?