my deliberate calmness for lukewarm feeling. Doubtless the latter will misunderstand me less in these times than they did in those days when they believed they had attained the goal of their desires, and the hope of victory swelled every sail of their thoughts. I took no part in their folly, but I will ever share their misfortunes. I will never return to my native land so long as one of those noble fugitive exiles, who would not listen to reason because of too great inspiration, lingers in a foreign land in wretchedness. I had rather beg a crust from the poorest Frenchman than take service among those distinguished knaves[1] in the German Fatherland who regard every moderation of power as cowardice or as a prelude of transition to slavery,[2] and who consider our best virtue or belief in the honourable feeling of a foe mere hereditary stupidity. I should never be ashamed to be deceived by those who inspired our hearts with beautiful and smiling hopes; "how everything should be most peaceably managed; how we should remain delightfully moderate, so that concessions should not be compelled, and thereby prove unfruitful; as they themselves well perceived
