7th JULY, The superseded Byng arrives; is punctually
arrested, on arriving: "Him we will hang directly:--is there anything
else we can try [except, perhaps, it were hanging of ourselves, and our
fine methods of procedure], by way of remedying you?"--War against
France, now a pretty plain thing, had been "declared," 17th May (French
counter-declaring, 9th June): and, under a Duke of Newcastle and a Hero
of Culloden, not even pulling one way, but two ways; and a
Talking-Apparatus full of discords at this time, and pulling who shall
say how many ways,--the prospects of carrying on said War are none of
the best. Lord Loudon, a General without skill, and commanding, as Pitt
declares, "a scroll of Paper hitherto" (a good few thousands marked on
it, and perhaps their Colonels even named), is about going for America;
by no means yet gone, a long way from gone: and, if the Laws of Nature
be suspended--Enough of all that!

KING FRIEDRICH'S ENIGMA GETS MORE AND MORE STRINGENT.

Friedrich's situation, in those fatefully questionable months and for
many past (especially from January 16th to July),--readers must imagine
it, for there is no description possible. In many intricacies Friedrich
has been; but never, I reckon, in any equal to this. Himself certain
what the Two Imperial Women have vowed against him; self and Winterfeld
certain of that sad truth; and all other mortals ready to deny it, and
fly delirious on hint of it, should he venture to act in consequence!
Friedrich's situation is not unimaginable, when (as can now be done by
candid inquirers who will take trouble enough) the one or two internal
facts of it are disengaged from the roaring ocean of clamorous delusions
which then enveloped them to everybody, and are held steadily in view,
said ocean being well run off to the home of it very deep underground.
Lies do fall silent; truth waits to be recognized, not always in
vain. No reader ever will conceive the strangling perplexity of that
situation, now so remote and extinct to us. All I can do is, to set down
what features of it have become indisputable; and leave them as detached
traceries, as fractions of an outline, to coalesce into something of
image where they can.

Winterfeld's opinion was, for some time past, distinct: "Attack them;
since it is certain they only wait to attack us!" But Friedrich would by
no means listen to that. "We must not be the aggressor, my friend; that
would spoil all. Perhaps the Engl