My lord:—­“I would give my brother, the Emperor of Germany, one further piece of advice.  Let him hasten to make peace.  This is the crisis when, he must recollect, all States must have an end.  The idea of the approaching extinction of the, dynasty of Lorraine must impress him with horror.”  When Bonaparte ordered this paragraph to be inserted in the Moniteur, he discovered an ‘arriere pensee’, long suspected by politicians, but never before avowed by himself, or by his Ministers.  “That he has determined on the universal change of dynasties, because a usurper can never reign with safety or honour as long as any legitimate Prince may disturb his power, or reproach him for his rank.”  Elevated with prosperity, or infatuated with vanity and pride, he spoke a language which his placemen, courtiers, and even his brother Joseph at first thought premature, if not indiscreet.  If all lawful Sovereigns do not read in these words their proscription, and the fate which the most powerful usurper that ever desolated mankind has destined for them, it may be ascribed to that blindness with which Providence, in its wrath, sometimes strikes those doomed to be grand examples of the vicissitudes of human life.

“Had Talleyrand,” said Louis Bonaparte, in his wife’s drawing-room, “been by my brother’s side, he would not have unnecessarily alarmed or awakened those whom it should have been his policy to keep in a soft slumber, until his blows had laid them down to rise no more; but his soldier-like frankness frequently injures his political views.”  This I myself heard Louis say to Abbe Sieyes, though several foreign Ambassadors were in the saloon, near enough not to miss a word.  If it was really meant as a reflection on Napoleon, it was imprudent; if designed as a defiance to other Princes, it was unbecoming and impertinent.  I am inclined to believe it, considering the individual to whom it was addressed, a premeditated declaration that our Emperor expected a universal war, was prepared for it, and was certain of its fortunate issue.

When this Sieyes is often consulted, and publicly flattered, our politicians say, “Woe to the happiness of Sovereigns and to the tranquillity of subjects; the fiend of mankind is busy, and at work,” and, in fact, ever since 1789, the infamous ex-Abbe has figured, either as a plotter or as an actor, in all our dreadful and sanguinary revolutionary epochas.  The accomplice of La Fayette in 1789, of Brissot in 1791, of Marat in 1792, of Robespierre in 1793, of Tallien in 1794, of Barras in 1795, of Rewbel in 1797, and of Bonaparte in 1799, he has hitherto planned, served, betrayed, or deserted all factions.  He is one of the few of our grand criminals, who, after enticing and sacrificing his associates, has been fortunate enough to survive them.  Bonaparte has heaped upon him presents, places, and pensions; national property, senatories, knighthoods, and palaces; but he is, nevertheless, not supposed one of our Emperor’s