the atrocity of the means adopted surpasses our worst apprehensions.

Our object is now to register a protest-the resource of the vanquished since our warning voice has been neglected. It was in asserting the principles of non-intervention, and with the menace of grave results,' that the British Secretary for Foreign Affairs deprecated the interference of Austria in the affairs of central Italy, while professing to disbelieve the existence of any danger that threatened to disturb the tranquillity of the Imperial dominions. Shortly after this communication was made, those very dominions were invaded by the troops of every state in Italy, mixed with hordes of private adventurers from France, from Poland, and from Switzerland; the Pope pronounced the warfare a pious enterprise, and bestowed his benediction on the warriors who engaged in it; every species of tacit encouragement, at least, was given by England-and French armies, hovering on the frontiers, were held in readiness to descend into Italy whenever it might, could, would, or should be deemed expedient to recommence the ancient game. Austria, in spite of all these disadvantages, convulsed, moreover, to her centre with internal troubles, has signally triumphed; but she is not to enjoy the peace that loyalty and valour so dearly purchased, for, in defiance of the principle of non-intervention which England and even France so loudly proclaimed but yesterday, these two great powers step forward to shield the lawless aggressors from the consequences of their own temerity; and while the Imperial army, arrested in its career of victory, has scrupulously observed the stipulations of an armistice, they have been violated by the vanquished party, not with impunity alone, but with unbounded admiration.

The enthusiasm which followed the election of the Pope, and the brilliant hopes that the few first months of his reign created, spread into neighbouring states, and excited a vague but passionate desire for change, which cautious men looked on with apprehension, and even the most determined Reformers, properly so called, must have desired to check. Those who really knew Italy, how ever, were of old aware that revolution and not reform was the object of the men who guided the Italian Liberals-nor did they need the confessions of such persons as Signor Ferrari to assure them that, wherever Reform might be the pretence, these guides would take no step but with a view to things far from the contemplation of the shortsighted and self-conceited Pius IX. The revolution in France and the insurrection in Vienna gave a preponderance to their small but active party, which there was now no longer any influence to counteract. The invasion of Lombardy was the immediate result. The defeat of the King of Sardinia

Sardinia and the disgrace which fell on the Italian arms-a disgrace which must have been felt in spite of the efforts of the newspapers to conceal it—would have restored the influence of Austria and secured the settlement of the peninsula, but for the fatal interference of France and England, which snatched the fruits of victory from the conquerors and encouraged the conquered to hope that diplomacy was to secure to them those advantages which they had lost in the field. Nor could there have been any just cause to fear that the opportunity would be abused by the victors; the moderation of the Austrian cabinet had been manifested on some most remarkable occasions, and a government which had voluntarily accorded so much to its subjects was not likely to trample on the liberties it had promised to respect.

We believe that there are few persons in this country (not connected with the government) who do not now look on the Italian revolutions with the same feelings which we have always expressed, or who can now believe that the Italians are fitted to enjoy that constitutional freedom they profess to covet. The character of a nation will always fix its destiny. No men have less political sagacity than the modern Italians, and it is the singular mixture of indolence and vanity of which the national character is compounded that has ever kept them in ignorance of political science, and which, on the downfall of their absolute governments, has exposed them to the seduction of French democracy, and plunged them into excesses that disgrace the name of Christendom.

In Rome, where the national character has always appeared in its worst extremes, the revolution has been stained with the darkest crimes of cruelty and ingratitude. The constitution, which secured ample liberty to the subject, was no sooner granted than cast aside, and the Pope-betrayed by those he had trustedabandoned by those for whom he had sacrificed the interests of the church-has learned, by bitter experience, the real nature of the revolution he had so blindly forwarded. His character, however, unfitted him to struggle with the difficulties of his situation he would neither intrust his cause to his friends, nor confront his enemies with vigour. After a series of experiments, all ending in disappointment, he called Count Rossi to his councils; and thus afforded undoubtedly every possible chance and facility for consolidating a constitutional government. We were not among the warmest admirers of this unfortunate gentleman. In commiserating his fate we cannot forget some very questionable passages of his life-nor were we ever very sanguine as to the result of his nomination: no one, however, can

deny

deny that his measures, as minister to Pius IX., were prudent and well timed, and that he had done nothing to infringe the constitution which he had been influential in framing. It was, in truth, his success and his prudence that provoked his murder. The Socialist and Communistic party-in other words, the Italian liberals'— dreaded, above all things, the quiet establishment of a limited monarchy; and the cautious minister, whose measures seemed to promise such a consummation, must be the chief object of their aversion and the first victim of their vengeance. His assassination, decreed in the clubs, which mould the popular passions, was rendered easy by the connivance of the Civic Guards and the treachery of the regular soldiery. With him fell the temporal government of the Pope-the last hope of social order. Even the life of Pius was now in danger; his escape was a measure of necessary precaution - it was well known that his destruction would have been inevitable had the dominant party perceived or fancied that issue to be for their interest. The flight of the Pope, which was preceded by that of the Cardinals, plunges the church into the anarchy of the twelfth century, while the actual state of Rome differs little from that which existed during the first barbarian invasions. The people, dependant on the arts of luxury for subsistence, and supported mainly by the advantages derived from the presence of the Papal court, are reduced to a state of misery that might well excite less inflammable natures to outrage; while dark-souled adventurers still keep mocking them with promises more and more impudent, and exhort them to expect from yet wilder measures those benefits which one triumph of rashness has failed to afford.

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The larger portion of the population live in a strange apathyor rather abandon their dearest interests with miserable cowardice to those who arrogate to themselves the right of directing the rest; while the government, placed in the hands of demagogues named by the rabble which assaulted the Papal residence, has now the opportunity of directing popular fury against the real objects of hate. The nobles-whose power was extinguished in the revolutions of the last century, and who with their power lost much of their possessions-are exposed without defence to the attacks of these upstarts, who view them with peculiar aversion, not indeed any longer as a powerful but as still a rich body, in which capacity they share the feelings with which the Jew, the Jesuit, and the banker, are equally regarded. In this posture of affairs it is impossible to foretell with what horrors -unknown to a state of civilization-the devoted city may be overwhelmed. The most alarming feature of the present revolutionary movement throughout Europe-the most discouraging

VOL. LXXXIV. NO, CLXVII.

to

to the hopes of the improvement of mankind-is the lowered standard of morality. The murder of an obnoxious minister is a crime that most countries have exhibited-a conspiracy can at least plead many precedents- the assassination of Count Rossi is less shocking in itself than in the favour with which it has been received. It was viewed by the Legislative Chamber, in the precincts of which it took place, with an air of cool indifference more revolting than any excess of emotion: the dying man found no assistance-his son no sympathy. By the public the deed was enthusiastically applauded in songs and hymns, in which the name of religion was profaned. The bloody knife was carried in savage triumph round the streets, which were illuminated as if for a fête. In every Italian capital the crime has found admirers-imitators, doubtless, will follow. Roman consuls, the countrymen of the assassins, have been honoured with cheers and serenades; and the liberal functionary at Florence, in acknowledging the compliment from the window of his residence-though he expresses a pious hope that the soul of the slain may find mercy-yet extols the patriotic hand that dealt the Godlike stroke and menaces other tyrants with a similar fate. Nor are these enormities condemned and rebuked by any class of influential persons, by any Italian government, or by the clergy of any Italian state. Timidity and selfishness, the result perhaps of an over-civilization, have increased to a degree almost incredible; and no man will risk his wealth, his social position, or even his ease, till the possessions he so dearly loves are actually wrenched from him. Nay, crimes which revolt humanity are not only unreproved, but are even urged on the people in Proclamations put forth by authority. Will our readers credit us? Such a Proclamation, recently published at Venice-placarded on every wall-denounces the German soldier to the assassin's knife-to every device of secret and cruel murder-by missile weapons, by fire, by poison! This address, too, has been much quoted, and with great applause, by the Italian newspapers; it bears the title of ORA O MAI,' and, among many paragraphs of similar strain, includes the following:

Vespro d' Alpe dal culmine al mar! 'Suonate di nuovo a stormo tutte le vostre campane! rialzate le barricate! riempite le vostre case d'ogni stromento mortifero! Acqua bollente, calce viva, oglio ardente, ciottoli, grondaie, tegole, masserizie, tutto tutto gettate su quelle teste maledette. Accecateli con sottile sparsa per l'aria arena infocata; avvelenate lor l'acqua nelle cisterne, il vino nelle cantine, le frutta, tutti gli alimenti, i fiori, il tabacco!' In ancient days, though crimes were committed in the struggle

for

for liberty, they were often accompanied by shining virtues and dauntless valour. In the fearful contest with which the last century closed, great abilities, at least, were displayed; but in the revolutionary phrenzy of the present year we discover no more of virtue than of talent. To whatever part of the world we bend our eyes the same unvarying prospect is before us: in Germany, in France, in Ireland, or in Italy, we can discover as little to bribe the judgment as to touch the imagination.

The state of Florence is not less critical than that of Rome. The Grand-Duke, after having been exposed to a coercion as degrading, and only less dangerous because less resistance was offered, than that of the Pope, has finally broken down utterly, and withdrawn in despair. If the streets of Florence have not flowed with blood, its government has been changed by a mob of ragged boys, and the leader of the people' was a galley-slave escaped from the hulks of Leghorn. What a change has been wrought in this fair city, so lately the scene of contentment, industry, and social enjoyment! The Prince, so recently surrounded by honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,' has fled from the insults of the rabble to find security and, we hope, consolation at Siena, ironically termed by the Liberal orators the Innspruck of Italy-for the reproach of loyalty and fidelity is now the bitterest that the Italian vocabulary affords. Could the advocates of reform' in high places contemplate this spectacle, and contrast it with former prosperity, we feel sure they would regret the share they have had in fostering the movement of 1848.'

The early reforms of the Pope and of the Grand-Duke of Tuscany are well known to have received the approbation and encouragement of our Foreign Secretary. For our own parts, we saw as little of wisdom in them as of policy; but as he was ignorant, by his own confession, of the state of the country, we were less surprised at the nature of the opinion he was pleased to volunteer than at his temerity in offering one at all. To the same cause only could we attribute his policy with regard to the Sardinian invasion of Lombardy. We know not whether his Lordship so far underrated the strength of the movement as to think it might safely be tampered with to forward other views, or whether he overrated it in an equal degree, and supposed it irresistible, or, perhaps, so far mistook its nature and its object as to believe he could guide it: it is quite certain that his ignorance rendered him reckless rather than cautious, and has plunged our continental relations in inextricable confusion. Had he not unexpectedly appeared as the patron of Italian revolutions, we should not have been surprised, in the multiplicity of business which presses on English ministers, that