allowed to rest there, for the tasteful humorist would presently cut such an exquisite joke that we should be sent flying back again into the church. But Mr. Spurgeon, in his higher and worthier style, certainly is capable, not only of attracting, but wholesomely impressing, and the explanation is, that besides being fluent and very energetic, he puts forth ideas, and speaks in language immediately comprehensible by his congregation.

Towards the close of his sermon, the preacher hit the point we have been aiming at in a very admirable manner. He urged upon the tradesmen around him to ask themselves how far they, in their common daily dealings, showed the least consciousness of the existence of a Great Judge. Did they adulterate the food they sold? did they keep a just balance in their shops? did they hold their pledges sacred, or were their promises merely satisfied to the ear and broken to the sense? "Of what use is it," inquired the preacher, "to preach only of high and holy things while the most ordinary duties are shamefully slighted?"

The question might be put concerning almost every class in society. The vague, hazy style of pulpit oratory, which dwells only upon the blessedness of being "in Christ," which enlarges in stilted phraseology upon the glory of sanctification, and the heavenly light which enwraps the soul of the Christian; of what use is it addressed to the merchant, who cheats in every sense, save an Old Bailey sense, and the tradesman, who swindles in every point of view, save that which would bring him to the gaze of a jury of his countrymen? While preachers are gently wafting Heaven before the eyes of miserable sinners, they forget that those miserable sinners are blind. We repeat, how few of us in that mighty congregation could realise the deep affliction of even a momentary absence from the sick soul of its only true physician. Alas! we were all, we fear, far short of that point of capability. But was there one man or woman could misunderstand, or fail to feel the force of, the powerful warning, that God could not be deceived by the attendance there if the life elsewhere were the following-not Him-but the foul adversary? This strain it is which cuts at the very root of the fearful amount of evil, which, even in this day of boasting, rears its head and flourishes in our land. Praise be to the preachers who can manifest that "things as they are" can be spoken of without any infringement of decorum, or any disregard of the sacredness of the Holy Temple. The prayers may have been passed by, we fear, as little more than a performance; the psalm may have been joined in as only a pleasant exercise; one half or more of the sermon may have been listened to by the mass with interest, certainly, but only doubtful benefit; but the conclusion was well calculated to strike home, provoke thought, and create alarm. And that is the great object, and, if achieved, the great triumph.

There must have been, in the minds of a few of the multitude that night, thoughts far deeper, emotions far more solemn, than the preacher, however earnest, could excite. On the morrow, Macaulay was to find in that temple his last earthly resting-place. The grave was prepared; it waited for its tenant. Those things of which the preacher preached, and which we listened to, were, even to the most advanced amongst us, all dim and shadowy. To Macaulay they had been revealed. All was clear to him. To-morrow they would bring to the open grave, close by, the dust and ashes, and lay them in their home. The spirit had already found a home in God's eternal world.

WILL THERE BE A CONGRESS?

WE confess to a certain degree of nervous apprehension whenever a pamphlet attributed to the skilled hand of the Vicomte de la Guéronnière makes its appearance in Paris. The publication of the new brochure, “Le Pape et le Congrès," is a sign that the Emperor of the French has made up his mind to a certain course of action, and wishes to feel his way beforehand. The response he has obtained can hardly answer his expectations, and he finds himself now in a worse position than when he signed the treaty of Villafranca. He is penned in a corner, and has no chance of escape save by retracing his steps, or arousing a religious war, which is the greatest curse a country can endure. Worse than that, there are certain signs that England will be made a particeps criminis, and our government are quite prepared to recognise the existing confusion in Italy as a sign of stability. In return for this concession, Louis Napoleon holds out a bait in the shape of protective instead of prohibitive duties, and straightway our papers of every shade begin violently to applaud him, although his promises are embodied in the vaguest possible terms. It is our duty, then, to try and appreciate what service the emperor demands from us in return for the prospect he holds out to us of being able to drink French wines at the price of South African.

However much M. de la Guéronnière may try to veil his meaning behind carefully weighed words, M. Villemain is perfectly in the right when he describes the imperial scheme as spoliative. Louis Napoleon finds himself at a dead-lock: he has made promises which he cannot fulfil to Austria, and now hopes to solve the difficulty by urging the Pope to surrender the Romagna. If he will only be kind enough to do so, he can remain in peaceable possession of the Eternal City, while the hat will be sent round among the Catholic powers to keep up his income. The Bishop of Orleans, the most outspoken of the papal party, repudiates this proposition in his master's name, and we now know that the Pope has pointblank refused. Had the Congress assembled, there seems, then, no doubt that the Emperor of the French, who, like a clumsy magician, could not dismiss the Evil Spirit he had invoked, would have proposed as a solution to the Italian difficulty his favourite panacea of a confederation. Deploring the maladministration of the legations, he would have recommended that the papal authority should be confined to Rome, and be maintained by chosen troops selected from the federal forces. As for the population of that city, we had best allow the imperial mouthpiece to speak for himself.

In conclusion, there will be in Europe a people having at its head a ruler less a king than a father, and whose rights would be rather guaranteed by the heart of the sovereign than by the authority of laws and institutions. This people will have no national representation, no army, no press, no magistracy. All its public life will be concentrated in its municipal organisation. Beyond this narrow circle it will possess no other resource than contemplation, the arts, the reverence for grand recollections, and prayer. It will be eternally disinherited of that noble lot of activity which, in all countries, is the stimulant of patriotism, and the legitimate exercise of the functions of the mind, or the superiorities of character. Under the pontifical government, no man can lay claim to the glory of a soldier, of an orator, or of a statesman. It will be a government of repose and reflection

-a species of oasis, where political passions and interests will not crop out, and which will only have the gentle and calm perspective of the spiritual world.

When we bear in mind that the population of Rome, having been worked upon by factious demagogues, can only be kept in order by the presence of ten thousand French bayonets, it is surely a mockery to hold up such a flattering picture of the future. However, we may dismiss this portion of the embroglio, for the Pope has refused his assent, and the emperor dare not coerce him, for he would arouse an awful body of opponents throughout the whole of Europe. The plain fact is, that Louis Napoleon is at his wits' end, and is casting about for accomplices to aid him in his wrong-doing. And such he seems to have found in our present government, the head of which had the audacity to assert, three years back, in the House of Commons, that Rome had never been so well governed as under the republic of Mazzini. We had allowed ourselves to be deluded by the notion that the Italians have instituted a model government in the revolted provinces; but the truth is exactly the opposite. A system of terrorism and coercion has been instituted, and we have it on authority that Parma, indelibly disgraced by the murder of Colonel Anviti, is now left at the mercy of a gang of red republicans. In Lombardy matters are even worse; and the Sardinians are already behaving there in a way which must cause the Austrians to be regretted. The taxes, already enormously high, are got in with a considerable amount of pressure, and the Lombards have gained nothing by the exchange save a fancied liberty. But M. de Girardin shows the hollowness of the idea with such shrewdness, that we cannot refrain from quoting his remarks:

Nationality is one of those hollow terms of which it is high time that people should cease to be the dupes. This word, like that of glory, has been preserved to render nations less sparing of their blood and their money. What are the Lombards about to gain by the recovery of their nationality, incorporated with Piedmont instead of incorporated with Austria? Will they be more free to refuse the payment of taxes, if they should be equally heavy in the hands of the collectors of King Victor Emmanuel as they were when levied by those of the Emperor Francis Joseph? Will they be more free not to serve as soldiers if such is not their vocation? Will free enlistment supersede the conscription? Will the military contingent they are called upon to furnish be smaller? Will there be any other change for them, than that of the uniform, the cockade, and the colours? Should it occur, as is not absolutely impossible, that the Lombards, disappointed in their expectations and their illusions, after having claimed annexation, should claim separation, would the journals of Milan, more fortunate than those of Savoy, be allowed to give currency to this wish of the population? And is it quite sure that Lombardy might not be placed in a state of siege by Piedmont: state of siege for state of siege, loaded cannon for loaded cannon, stifled press for stifled press? What would Lombardy have gained by the change of government, leading to no change of system?

The recal of Count Cavour to the Sardinian councils seems to indicate that the Emperor of the French is prepared to reverse his past policy, and allow the intrigues commenced in Turin to reach a head in Central Italy. He is in that peculiarly awkward position that the move depends with him, and whatever he may decide on, his checkmate is infallible. However much French political writers may deride the prowess of Austria, Louis Napoleon is fully aware that she was not exhausted by

the last war, and the bold language now addressed to Piedmont proves that the Viennese cabinet have not yet acknowledged defeat. Besides, Austria has now on her side a power which Louis Napoleon is so fond of invoking-public opinion. Events have taught us that Italy can never be free, and the only point to solve is, whether French or Austrian troops should restore order and tranquillity. The idea that Piedmontese troops can maintain a constitutional form of government in Central Italy is perfectly untenable; in the words of Le Maistre, "Piedmont is only a grain of sand, and her evident interest is to keep herself so." There is an antipathy ever existing between Italy and Piedmont, as 1848 very sufficiently proved. No sooner did Charles Albert develop his ambitious design of becoming sovereign of Italy, than all the people of Lombardy disowned their self-elected Piedmontese liberator.

The Emperor of the French solemnly pledged himself at Villafranca to pave the way for the return of the dukes; and this was only reasonable, as he was the cause of their being compelled to leave their states. Austria, when agreeing to a cessation of hostilities, was still in a position to exact conditions; and Louis Napoleon recognised her strength by assenting to them. For a time Louis Napoleon manfully tried to carry out these conditions; but the reserve he had made, that the dukes should not be restored by force, hampered him. He checked the Piedmontese intrigues in Central Italy, and allowed the people to make their choice. They, fickle-minded as all Italians are, forgot all the kindness the Grand-Duke Leopold had shown them, and decided on a republic; but we think that the experience of the last few months would induce them to reconsider their vote, were the alternative offered them. But it is now too late: they have suffered the power to fall into the hands of a few unscrupulous partisans, who govern by terrorism, and there is no prospect that the nation will be allowed to utter its spontaneous opinion. If any man dare to avow his adhesion to the ducal house, he is intimidated or thrown into prison, while honest convictions are branded as treason. The Tuscan army is sedulously kept beyond the frontier, lest they might provoke insurrection against the new authorities; and money is lavished in every direction, to pervert the people's better judgment. Lord Normanby tells us that since April last the model government of Tuscany have made away with sixteen million francs, left by the grand-duke in the treasury; and they are now having recourse to every expedient to raise further sums. Even supposing the grand-duke's rule had been bad-which we have no reason for believing at any rate it was not so expensive.

Such is the government which Lord John Russell went out of his way to applaud at Aberdeen, comparing the Grand-Duke of Tuscany to James II., and King Victor Emmanuel to William III.! Lord Normanby, while protesting against this nonsense, finds opportunity to describe the true character of the grand-duke:

It would be useless to detail now the many beneficent acts of the Grand-Duke Leopold, at all periods when his people required his superintending assistance. Nor have his people forgotten the charitable exertions personally made both by him and the grand-duchess, when together and on foot they visited the poorest parts of their city, and relieved the miseries and alleviated the sufferings caused by the great inundation of Florence; the devotion to his people which the grand-duke showed when, sending his family for safety to Lucca Baths, he

remained alone in Florence during the awful visitation of the cholera in 1856, when he emptied his cellars of all the wine they contained for the use of the hospitals, and personally superintended the working of that benign institution the Misericordia-thereby exciting the imitation and stimulating the activity of all the upper classes, who nobly seconded his efforts. If any one wishes to inform himself as to what will be a true and faithful opinion of the reign of the grand-duke when these trumpery slanders have been consigned to the oblivion they deserve, let him turn to a pamphlet recently published, entitled, "Tuscany da sè, or, an owre true Tale." I do not know the writer, and he states that he never had any personal communication with the grand-dukes, father or son, and therefore his opinion cannot be warped, as mine may be, by the friendship with which the Grand-Duke Leopold has honoured me for more than thirty years. I am aware that some of the statements I have made, and some which I am about to make, may be denied by the authorities at Florence, as has been the case before. But I am confident of the truth of the sources from which I derive my facts, and as long as the press is muzzled and terrorism prevails I cannot compromise names. The public, therefore, must accept my facts as I receive them, and, assertion against assertion, must form their own judgment on the aggregate.

We entertained hopes that the Emperor of the French, who restored the Holy Father to Rome by force of arms, would take on himself to crush the insurrection in the Romagna; but he has sadly disappointed us by the new views he has put forward. To our mind, his sole object, since the commencement of the unwarrantable Italian war, has been to overthrow the arrangements of the Congress of Vienna, and thus annul the effects of Waterloo. For this purpose the pamphleteer invests the Congress with powers which can never belong to it. A congress held at Paris cannot override the decisions of the one held at Vienna, and deprive the Pope in 1860 of a territory granted him in 1815. But, apart from this, we deny the authority of the powers to settle the fate of the spiritual father of one hundred and thirty-five millions of our fellow-beings. Of the five great powers, two are Protestant, and one schismatic; and they cannot be expected to deal fairly in such a matter, especially when England is suffering from a Whig government, who publicly evince their sympathy with a nation of rebels. Five years ago England and France were combined to maintain the integrity of another spiritual ruler, and Lord Normanby puts the question at issue so fairly that we cannot but quote his argument:

We

We have had European conferences partaking of the nature of a congress within the last three years. Those conferences were held at the conclusion of a contest in which I have always thought England entered with too little consideration, and closed without one advantageous result. There was here no question of nationalities. If there ever was a case in which no interest of a sentimental character was resolved, nothing dreamt of beyond the old political considerations of balance of power, such was the Crimean war. No feeling, patriotic, liberal, or religious, induced us to side with the Paynim Sultan. fought to perpetuate the rule of the Mahomedan over a mixed population, the vast majority of which were Christians, and it was in the same spirit that the Congress met; its marked application was there made to the case of the Principalities. Does any one doubt, if the principle had then prevailed that the people were to be allowed to transfer their allegiance when and to whom they pleased, that Wallachia and Moldavia would have elected a foreign sovereign and thrown over the supremacy of the Sultan? Who was then more decidedly opposed to such a principle than England? Is, then, the Turk the only sovereign whose vested rights we are bound to uphold-the only one, always excepting ourselves,