eep Europe in peace, when the Continent is as
rotten as thatch, and France as combustible as gunpowder?--The minister is
a man of wonders, but he cannot prevent thirty millions of maniacs from
playing their antics until they are cooled by blood-letting; or a hundred
millions of Germans, Spaniards, Dutch, and Italians from being pilfered to
their last coin!--Old Frederick, the greatest genius that ever sat upon a
German throne, saw this fifty years ago. I have him at this moment before
my eyes, as he walked with his hands behind his bent back in the little
parterre of Sans Souci. I myself heard him utter the words--'If I were
King of France, a cannon-shot should not be fired in Europe without my
permission.'--France is now governed by fools, and is nothing. But if
ever she shall have an able man at her head, she will realize old
Frederick's opinion."

As no time was to be lost, I hurried with my note of introduction to
Whitehall, was ushered through a succession of dingy offices into a small
chamber, where I found, busily employed at an escrutoire, a young man of a
heavy and yet not unintelligent countenance. He read my note, asked me
whether I had ever been in Paris, from which he had just returned; uttered
a sentence or two in the worst possible French, congratulated me on the
fluency of my answer, rang his bell, and handed me a small packet,
endorsed--_most secret and confidential_. He then made the most awkward of
bows; and our interview was at an end. I saw this man afterwards prime
minister.

Till now, the novelty and interest of any new purpose had kept me in a
state of excitement; but I now found, to my surprise, my spirits suddenly
flag, and a dejection wholly unaccountable seize upon me. Perhaps
something like this occurs after all strong excitement; but a cloud seemed
actually to draw over my mind. My thoughts sometimes even fell into
confusion--I deeply repented having involved myself in a rash design,
which required qualities so much more experienced than mine; and in which,
if I failed, the consequences might be so ruinous, not merely to my own
character, but to noble and even royal lives. I now felt the whole truth
of Hamlet's description--the ways of the world "flat, stale, and
unprofitable;" the face of nature gloomy; the sky a "congregation of
pestilent vapours." It was not the hazard of life; exposed, as it might be,
in the midst of scenes of which the horrors were daily deepening; it was a
general un