In 1813, during the period of battles and revolutions, many things had been promised to Germany; but was it possible to perform them in 1815 and 1816? Suppose that in Germany, that country of excitement and mystical spirit, the utopias of the secret societies had been realised,--a political existence given to the universities, and a turbulent representation to all the states,--that they had granted them the liberty of the press and an organised democracy,--would Germany ever have reached the high degree of prosperity and public tranquillity she now enjoys? We must take customs as they exist, and minds with the habits they have formed; we must not give a people institutions which would be a torment to their existence without increasing their well-being. I do not say that the governments of Austria and Prussia acted rightly in not fulfilling their promises--I merely say, that time alone can shew whether this conduct proceeded from prudence, or from a calculating spirit of selfishness. The events of 1814 and 1815 had considerably increased the possessions of Austria in Italy, and, as this was really a country obtained by conquests, it was natural and necessary that an armed surveillance should be established in the Lombardo-Venetian territory, as well as a police capable of controlling the provinces united to the Austrian empire. The utmost ability will be required to slacken successively the springs of this police, in proportion as the victors may be more firmly established in their foreign possessions. To have granted free constitutions to the people would have been an imprudent generosity, for this conquest, like those of Napoleon, could only be maintained by military occupation, which it was desirable to render as little oppressive as circumstances would permit. The Italians, a hot and enthusiastic people, had driven out the French in the day of their calamity; the Austrians should endeavour to avoid a similar misfortune, and keep carefully upon their guard. Here begins the melodrama which has been cast around the person of Prince Metternich, with the picture of the cruel prisons and Piombi of Venice. I appeal to the Christian sincerity and good faith of Silvio Pellico, whether there be one word of real truth in his book, _Le mie Prigioni_. Does he call to mind the terrible Piombi of Venice, which, in his case, consisted of a room on the fourth floor in the ducal palace, commanding a most extensive view over the Great Canal, and for which Lord Byron would have paid some hundreds of sequins? He was deprived of his liberty, it is true; and this is, no doubt, a deplorable misfortune: but had he engaged in a conspiracy?--had he attempted to overturn the established government? He avows that he had done so, and in attempts of this kind a man sets his liberty and "Life upon a cast, And he must stand the hazard of the die."