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reason of the Italian revolution, and the tyranny of the House of Hapsburg and of its princely satellites has brought about a consummation long foreseen, and a wellmerited chastisement. Supported by no evidence, thrown into no specific shape, the charge of Papal misrule would, like a bottomless ship, soon sink beneath its own weight, were it not upheld by fictitious aids, by the easy resource of ready invention. It is like a painted ship on a painted ocean, a clumsy and over-coloured daub, that has not even the merit of clever contrivance. It does not bear the faintest resemblance to truth, and ought not to deceive, even for a moment, the merest tyro in critical sagacity. But yet this charge of Papal misrule has been boldly launched into the sea of prejudice, that ever surges round the time-honoured bark of Peter. We shall have to revert in the course of these pages to the subject of the Papal government in the States of the Church, and examine how far, whether even to any extent, the cause of the partial revolt of his subjects is to be traced to the system and statesmanship of the Pope. In treating of the influence and supremacy of Austria in Italy we shall be compelled to acknowledge that the dominion of the House of Hapsburg, and the presence of the foreigner on Italian soil, present an apparent difficulty which requires more than a superficial consideration. We should be doing injustice to ourselves, however, and have indeed to put a constraint on our inclinations, were we not to avow that a feeling of sympathy is not unnaturally excited in our mind on behalf of a people struggling to rid themselves of the yoke of the stranger. But we are free also to confess that the rule of the foreigner would have never prevailed were it not the result of a necessity which still exists, were it not the effect of an inherent weakness in the national character of the Italian.

We shall pass over, then, for the present, the consideration of Papal misrule, and of the tyranny of the House of Hapsburg in its Italian dependencies, in order to yield for once in a good natured manner to the humour of the day. We shall follow the prevailing fashion, and taking up the imperial jargon of "facts and their inexorable logic," answer a fool according to his folly. It is a fact, then, that universal Italy, groaning under an intolerable tyranny, longs for the present to cast itself into the open arms of Victor Emanuel. It is a fact that the Romagnas and

Central Italy, under no compulsion, have all but unanimously voted for aunexation to Sardinia. It is a fact that Savoy and the county Nice, with bowed head and bated breath, have begged to be annexed to imperial and despotic France. Or are deputations not to be credited, or votes not always to be depended upon? Are we bound to inquire whence deputations come, and whither vanish? Are we to doubt smooth tongues, or to affect disgust at rich, oily, overflowing lips? Had we to track toads home to their holes, in what corner of Savoy should we have to seek after these mysterious delegates? In these profitable days of annexation such loathsome creatures abound in Italy as well as in Savoy. But there is one notorious fact which these Savoyard reminiscences bring to our ungrateful memory. It is a fact, doubt who may, a veritable fact; for have we not an emperor's word for it that the wretched mountain-tops of Savoy were, by the unforeseen force of events, and against his will and desire, thrust upon the acceptance of Sardinia's "magnanimous" ally? It formed none of the Napoleonic ideas. It made no part of the family compact. It was not a bargain struck before the Italian revolutionary war broke out. Napoleon did not achieve this greatness, but had it thrust upon him. But what else are facts which we must receive unchallenged, and believe without hesitation? Are the tele

grams flying along the electric wire, from hour to hou, to be relied upon? Are imperial notes and royal speeches, and the letters from "our own correspondents," facts to be swallowed without a grain of salt? Are we, with our ungluttonous stomachs that turn with nausea from these overladen dishes, not to have one little grain of salt left to us to savour these rich meats that are served up with so little discretion by so many cooks?

With a grand display of fairness we have been begged to make a compromise, to disbelieve, on the one hand, if we choose, M. About's studied pleasantries, to set aside the reports of the impious "Siécle," and to take, at what they are worth, M. Grand-Guillot's grandiloquous rhapsodies, but on the other, to accept as facts, whatever the English newspapers report about Italy, the revolution, and the Pope. We do not wish to be unneighbourly. We are unwilling to be on bad terms with the writers of the day, but we cannot afford to sacrifice truth to gratify their pleasant humour, and our self-respect forbids us to sink to

the level of their daily absurdities. We will, however, accept the broad conclusion that a large portion of Italy has broken from allegiance to its rulers, and by espousing the cause of Victor Emanuel, set the Pope at defiance. We will not now pull to pieces the theories set up by various Protestant writers, to account for this revolt against the counsels of Rome, and against the rights of the Holy See, but proceed to enquire into the real causes that underlie the present movement and agitation in the Italian peninsula.

We will not stop to dissect the facts which we are now so implicitly called upon to believe concerning the temper of the people, and the mode by which the vote of annexation was brought about in Central Italy and the States of the Church. We will not enquire how it came to pass, by what persuasion, or under what gentle pressure, that seventy per cent of the population of Tuscany, entitled to the suffrage, cast their votes in favour of the King of Sardinia. We shall only remark, that for nine eventful months his active agents were in possession of the Grand Duchy, that every office of influence and emolument was filled with creatures of his own, that the mayors, and all the heavy official staff, who had the management of the annexation business, were bound, for the sake of their own present and future interest, to see that the voting "came off" to the satisfaction of their master. By methods peculiar to themselves, they pursued an unrelenting canvass, and all who are familiar with Continental habits, must be aware how these officials, dressed in a little brief authority, lord it over their fellow-men, and what awe they inspire into the mind of the simple villager or submissive citizen. But in this age of enlightened progress, men of independent character, we shall be told, are above official intimidation, and men of honesty rise superior in times of great emergency at least, to all considerations of personal interest. Alas for poor humanity, gold is to-day its master, in no did it show less superiority to the glittering symbol of ease and self-indulgence. How often even in this metropolis, in this centre of busy life and commercial credit, have not honesty and honour both been sacrificed at the guilty shrine of Moloch. In addition to official browbeating, and to the subtle influence of self-interest, brought to bear upon the unhappy populations of Central Italy, we shall not scruple to assert, because we have evidence of

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the fact before us, that personal violence was resorted to, and gross intimidation practised, in the Romagna at least, to compel the unwilling subjects of the Pope to vote for Victor Emanuel. Committees were formed of the old revolutionary stamp, that have before now filled the world with dread, and horror unspeakable. From many a city or village they issued their mandates to the heads of families, to the owners of workshops and manufactories, and to the parish priests, threatening them with visits of violence, and even with death, if they did not bring all those who were under their influence or control, to record their votes for annexing their country to Sardinia. Nor were these idle words, the empty menaces of men, who were unwilling or afraid to carry their threats into execution. At Castel S. Pietro these emissaries of the revolution, true to their calling, forced their way into the palace of Zarettini, a man as remarkable for his independence of character and public spirit as he was distinguished for his loyalty and faith. At the outbreak of the insurrection he was president of the Commune, but no sooner had the Sardinian faction triumphed than he resigned his office and retired into private life. He became a marked man, and was denounced to the leaders of the secret societies as one who could be bought by no bribe, influenced by no intimidation. His influence was feared, for one example of moral courage, a quality so rare as almost to be unknown among the Italians of the present day, might, it was thought, revive confidence among the panic-stricken multitude. But the partisans of disorder, the friends of popular and peaceful election, did not stop short at mere manifestations of illegal power and of petty annoyance. In the city of Imola, the birth-place of the Pope, strong in its affection and its fealty towards its august sovereign, the necessity existed for stronger measures than mere personal intimidation. No time was to be lost. It was necessary to strike terror into the hearts of the loyal population. The never-failing dagger was at hand. A man, known for his loyalty to the Pope was brutally murdered in the public streets. The secret societies were not out in their reckoning. The crime had its desired effect. Instead of rousing the indignation of the whole community, and giving resolution and heart to its resistance, it only enabled the commissioners more rapidly to report that the city of the Pope had voted for annexa

tion to the kingdom of Sardinia. What! for very shame could not his own city remain faithful to the crown of the Sovereign Pontiff? Has courage forsaken the breast of the Italian for ever, or loyalty his heart? does he forget what blood courses through his veins? Europe will not easily forgive Imola her treachery, and history will not fail to record to her shame, that out of fear, in the day of trial, she broke her faith at once to her sovereign and to her noblest citizen.

Not only were deeds of violence done to bring about the annexation, but to celebrate, or should we not rather say, to stain still more its triumphant progress. And to mark still more memorably what spirit it was of, outrages and insults were, without hesitation, heaped upon the venerable heads of priests, and upon innocent and holy women. If any there be who doubt that the Italian revolution has sprung from the loins of the terrible year 1793, they will doubt no more when they reflect on the wild and riotous scenes that disgraced the good city of Ferrara on the 10th March in the present year of grace. By way of rejoicing at the triumph of their principles, or of exercising their power over the well-disposed inhabitants of the city, the revolutionary party had ordered all the houses and shops to be decorated with gay festoons and manycoloured draperies, and all the picturesque paraphernalia of triumphant victory; but not content with seeing the majesty of their will obeyed, no matter with what reluctance, by lesser personages, they went so far as to compel the Cardinal Archbishop to decorate his palace in honour of the overthrow of the Papal authority. This compromise of his dignity did not satisfy these ardent lovers of liberty. When evening closed in upon the sad spectacle of the day, these partisans of the revolution, wild with wine and with license, let loose their fury upon the streets of the terrified city. Hitherto their will had met no resistance, their appetite for destruction no food. At last they resolved to march in a body against the Cardinal Archbishop, and compel him by force to illuminate his palace. Their insolent demands were met with an absolute refusal. Concession has its limits. The Cardinal had perhaps already passed the boundary line that separates moderation from cowardice. He was bound to uphold the respect due to his sacred office, and give in his own person an example of firmuess to the timid friends of decency and

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