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390 simply expose him to derision and contempt. In the Swiss cantons, the battle between Free Thought and the Papacy was fought out definitively, some fifteen years ago, with what results is notorious enough. Of the course which would be taken by the Protestant countries of Europe, it is unnecessary to speak, as it would simply amount to this, that they would decline all interference, and content themselves with wishing well to the nations which were following where they had led. Let us not deceive ourselves as to the importance of the intelligence which the telegraph brings us day by day from Italy. It is a very different thing when the Pope is attacked in his last strong-hold, or when a Duke of Modena is simply turned about his business. The latter is merely a political event, the like of which may occur at any moment,—the second marks an epoch in the history of the human race.

It would be madness to suppose that, as a form of religious faith, the Roman Catholic system would not still endure for a period, the limits of which cannot be foreseen. But it will do so, because it will adapt itself to the alterations in the opinions and feelings of the human race. That has been the real secret of its power for centuries, and just now it is imperilling its very existence, because it is departing from the old traditions. Time was when it was very proper that a Pope should descend into the battle-field, and try physical conclusions with an emperor or a king. He always had a good store of curses in reserve, if his troops were beaten, and in those days curses were stronger than troops. Things are altered now,—when the troops of Pio Nono are beaten, his curses will not stand him in much stead. But such ragamuffins as he has been able to collect from amongst the needy adventurers of Europe, have turned out to be of no account when opposed to the onset of regular troops. The lessons which Lamoricière learnt in Algeria have not profited him much in Umbria and the Marches. The Pope, at the present moment, looking at him merely as a temporal prince, is fairly beaten, and would now be an exile from his states, but for the bayonets of the French soldiery. He is just Louis Napoleon’s private chaplain, and could be turned adrift by the Emperor without a moment’s notice. Last week a thrill ran through Europe on account of a suggestion put forth by a French writer, not, as it was supposed, without authority. It was to the effect that if the Pope, of his own voluntary act, chose to quit Rome by one gate, General Goyon and the French troops would march out at another, and leave what is called the Eternal City in the hands of the patriots. Louis Napoleon is standing sentinel over the Papacy, not over Rome. He feels the occupation of that city, and of the patrimony of St. Peter, to be an embarrassment—at least he says so. Thus much would appear to be true: but if Pio Nono were to take his departure, all pretext for a continuation of the French occupation would be gone. The position would be intolerable in the eyes of Europe. It seems, on the whole, probable that if Louis Napoleon has one sentiment left in his heart, it is for Italy. The original occupation of Rome took place in defiance of his opinion and remonstrances, as witness the famous letter to Edgar Ney. Once there he is not free to depart, because he has the public opinion of the French clergy to deal with, and this he cannot afford to disregard.

According to recent intelligence, the rout of the Pontifical troops has been most complete, and Lamoricière, no doubt, en route for Trieste, has taken refuge in Ancona. It must be a most unsafe halting-place; as the Italians are clearly masters of the sea. What could have induced a general, who, in former days, had won for himself a somewhat chivalric reputation, to march through the Papal Coventry at the head of all these rapscallions? His enemies say—Debt; his friends—Superstition. Meanwhile, the question of this moment is whether or no the Pope will fly from Rome a second time. He is surrounded by those who are strongly interested in their own opinion in advocating the policy of escape. Garibaldi is, no doubt, in earnest, when he says that if the Sardinians will not attack the French in Rome, or procure the evacuation by peaceful means, he is prepared to try conclusions even with France. Had it been otherwise we should not have heard of the entry of the Sardinian troops into Umbria and the Marches, and of the defeat inflicted by them upon the Papal levies. Cavour and Garibaldi are the real chess-players just now, and for the moment Cavour has won the move. If the Pope would but run away!

is a pity that Princes cannot travel really incogniti. Royal spectacles are not the best contrivance for enabling the human eye to arrive at true results. If your ordinary rich man knows but little of the world as it is, what chance do the poor Porphyrogeniti stand of learning anything about the real meaning of life? The great Caliph Haroun Al-Raschid, as his deeds are chronicled in the old Arabian Tales, knew better than to make a formal progress through Bagdad with his royal turban on his head, and his golden sceptre in his hand. He used to wander about at nights, accompanied by the Vizier and the Chief Eunuch, in close disguise. The three would enter into the miserable dwelling of a hump-backed barber, or a starving porter, and share with these men their frugal supper. So they ascertained how men really lived and had their being in the fair city of Bagdad. Compare with this system the one on which the Imperial Catharine, Empress of all the Russias, used to act. She would rush down at top-speed from Petersburgh, or Moscow, to the Crimea, for the purpose of investigating with her own eyes the condition of her subjects. But in her journey she was surrounded, as usual, by all the pomp and splendour of her Court. Each day’s route, and the halting-place for each night, were carefully mapped out, and settled beforehand. Due notice was given to the persons in authority at the various relays. The very natural consequence was that the Empress travelled through provinces inhabited by happy villagers and luxurious serfs.

Peasant girls with soft blue eyes,

And hands which scattered early flowers

met their royal mistress at every turn. Old men tottered up to her carriage-door to bless her for