The letter then turned to my own circumstances, and entered into them with the singular mixture of ardour and sneering which formed this extraordinary character.

“I am doing your business here as indefatigably as if I were robbing nabobs in India, or setting up republics at home.  The tardiness of the Horse-Guards is to be moved by nothing but an invasion; and it would be almost as rational to wait the growth of an oak, as to wait the signing of your commission; but it shall be done in my own way.  I have means which can make the tardy quick, and open the eyes of the blind.  You shall be a subaltern in the Guards, unless you are in too much haste to be a general, and get yourself shot by some Parisian cobbler in the purloined uniform of a rifleman.  But, let me tell you one fact, and I might indorse this piece of intelligence, ‘Secret and Confidential,’ to the English cabinet, for even our great minister has yet to learn it—­the Allies will never reach Paris.  Rely, and act upon this.  They might now enter the capital, if, instead of bayonets, they carried only trusses of straw.  The road is open before them, but they will look only behind.  The war was almost a feint from the beginning.  The invasion was the second act of the farce—­the retreat will be the third.  Poland has been the true object; and, to cover the substantial seizures there, has been the trick of the French invasion.  I predict that, in one month from the date of this letter, there will not be an Austrian or Prussian cartridge found in France.  Potsdam and Schoenbrunn know more on the subject at this moment than the duke.  I write to you as a friend, and by Mariamne’s especial order, to take care of yourself.  I have seen the retreats of continental armies in my time; they are always a scene of horrors.  Follow the army so long as it advances; then all is well, and even the experience of service may be of use to you.  But, in this instance, the moment that you find it come to a stop, turn your horse’s head to any point of the compass but the front, and ride to the nearest seaport.  The duke is a brave man, and his army is a brave army; but both will be instantly covered with all the obloquy of all the libelers on earth.  If you have met him as man with man, you have doubtless been captivated with his manners, his wit, his animation, and his accomplishments.  I have known him long and well.  But Europe, within a month, will decry him, as a fugitive, a fool, and a dastard.  Such is popular wisdom, justice, and knowledge.  A pupil of the first warrior of Prussia and of modern ages, and wanting only experience to do honour to the lessons of Frederick, he will be laughed at by the loose loungers of the Palais Royal, as ignorant of the art of war, and branded by the graver loungers of courts and councils, as ignorant of the art of government.  Once more, I say, take care of yourself.  The first step in retreat will raise all France against the Allies.