the moment of success, it indicates that he is satisfied
with something. It shows that there are limits to his ambition or his
resentment. If he offers nothing under misfortune, it is probable that
it is more painful to him to abandon the prospect of advantage than to
endure calamity. If he rejects solicitation, and will not give even a
nod to the suppliants for peace, until a change in the fortune of the
war threatens him with ruin, then I think it evident that he wishes
nothing more than to disarm his adversary to gain time. Afterwards a
question arises, Which of the parties is likely to obtain the greater
advantages by continuing disarmed and by the use of time?

With these few plain indications in our minds, it will not be improper
to reconsider the conduct of the enemy together with our own, from the
day that a question of peace has been in agitation. In considering this
part of the question, I do not proceed on my own hypothesis. I suppose,
for a moment, that this body of Regicide, calling itself a Republic, is
a politic person, with whom something deserving the name of peace may be
made. On that supposition, let us examine our own proceeding. Let us
compute the profit it has brought, and the advantage that it is likely
to bring hereafter. A peace too eagerly sought is not always the sooner
obtained. The discovery of vehement wishes generally frustrates their
attainment, and your adversary has gained a great advantage over you
when he finds you impatient to conclude a treaty. There is in reserve
not only something of dignity, but a great deal of prudence too. A sort
of courage belongs to negotiation, as well as to operations of the
field. A negotiator must often seem willing to hazard the whole issue
of his treaty, if he wishes to secure any one material point.

The Regicides were the first to declare war. We are the first to sue for
peace. In proportion to the humility and perseverance we have shown in
our addresses has been the obstinacy of their arrogance in rejecting our
suit. The patience of their pride seems to have been worn out with the
importunity of our courtship. Disgusted as they are with a conduct so
different from all the sentiments by which they are themselves filled,
they think to put an end to our vexatious solicitation by redoubling
their insults.

It happens frequently that pride may reject a public advance, while
interest listens to a secret suggestion of advantage. The opportunity
has been a