ing the POPE in his despair. Besides this on the ground of sheer necessity, a proceedprimary anxiety for appearances, the ing the legality of which appears to be French EMPEROR had other feelings on the doubtful; and an Italian Chamber composed subject of Rome of which he has never di- of even more immaculate elements than the vested himself. He was not prepared, per-present would not perhaps hesitate to indemsonally or politically, to break with the nify the RATTAZZI Ministry against the great system of Catholic Christianity which consequences of their courage. But if the has long since had for its nucleus the POPE's Italian Chamber meets for this Patriotic autonomy at Rome. A man of the penetra- purpose, the first question it will ask the tion of the French EMPEROR cannot fail to Government will be, How long is this to go have remarked, what everybody else sees, on? The country has been on the very that the religious faith of all Europe is brink of a precipice. Sufficient popular agiabout to undergo a vast change; but, look-tation has ensued to show that, in arresting ing at the prospect as an Emperor and a the favourite champion of the Italian revofamily man, he did not intend or care to lution, the Italian monarchy has braved, throw his weight into the anti-Catholic even if it has weathered, a very considerascale. He then hoped, and possibly still ble storm. It is absurd to expect that the hopes, that a happy accident might yet rec- Italians can run these formidable risks every oncile the Church to Italy, and that Time other year merely to suit the policy of the might come to the rescue and make some French Empire. It may be said, and it is scheme seem possible for leaving the POPE doubtless often said in Conservative circles, in Rome. It is easy to assert, because dif- that Rome is not to be handed over to Italy ficult to disprove, that he had also other simply because the King of ITALY cannot ambiguous motives which led him to wish govern his unruly subjects without it. Of to put off the evil day when Rome should course these things are a question of degree. belong to Italy. The object, at all events, The Fenians want Ireland, the Poles want of the French Government in the Septem- Poland, the Danes want Schleswig-Holber Convention was to delay, not to solve, stein, and France wauts the frontier of the the Roman question. The one thing to be Rhine. It is not so much because Italy secured was the temporary relief; the fu- wants Rome that she deserves to obtain it, ture fate of the Papacy, and the future con- as because the want is acknowledged by the duct of the respective Governments, re- public opinion of Europe to be reasonable. mained uncertain and in blank. To remove When this is so, the Italians cannot but the French troops from Rome, without fear feel themselves injured by finding that, in of any Italian annexation to follow, was the return for the benefits she has done them, main ambition of the diplomatists engaged; France requires them to sacrifice their naand permitte Divis cætera was the text tacit- tional hopes. The revolutionary party will ly adopted for their motto. That the Sep-not consent to do it. And the effort to tember Convention was designed to adjourn, not to settle, the difficulty is conclusively proved by one clear and indisputable fact. The certain contingency of an internal insurrection at Rome was deliberately left unprovided for. The two Governments did not, and knew they could not, agree about it, and, sooner than interrupt their immediate combinations, they agreed not to discuss it at all. Thus it became obvious that the September Convention provided for the necessities of the day, but did not profess to make any permanent provision for the morrow. check her advanced patriots costs Italy so much, keeps her in such perpetual anxiety and suspense, and is so damaging to the popularity of the monarchy, that the national patience is becoming exhausted. The French must make up their mind what they will do. They must choose between the friendship and the covert enmity of a Power which is now strong enough to be a useful ally, and which is determined not to bestow its favours for nothing. NAPOLEON III. is in. no easy position. The Austrian and the Italian alliances are both necessary for his purposes. And he The Florence Cabinet is not therefore has every reason to dread the success of receding from its engagements in pointing the Italian democratic party. General out to France that it is not possible, without danger of real disturbances in Italy, to leave matters any longer in their perilous condition of uncertainty. The arrest of General GARIBALDI was a bold act of international good faith. The sense of the Italian nation has on the whole accepted, GARIBALDI represents in Italy the antiFrench school. The men with whom GARIBALDI acts, and by whom he is guided, regard LoOUIS NAPOLEON as a sort of incarnate enemy of freedom. They cannot forgive him either his usurpations at home or his military expeditions abroad. The EMPEROR is aware of, and fully reciprocates, this antipathy. Giving Rome to Italy is, in his eyes, helping the Italian revolutionists one stage upon their journey. Possibly he is right in thinking that this will be in the end the effect of such step. But the Roman question has now reached a point at which further opposition on the part of France becomes injurious both to French interests and to the cause of monarchical institutions in the peninsula. Something must be done; and the only doubt is whether NAPOLEON III. is capable of surrendering his crotchets about Italy, loyally endeavouring to establish and Italian order on a firm basis. The abortive raid of General GARIBALDI will therefore do some service to the cause which he prefers both to life and to reputation. It is useless to talk of settling the Papal question by a European Congress. If Italy is well advised, she will never consent to so suicidal a proposal. The whole key to the future tranquillity of her provinces lies with the Imperial Government at Paris. Do what it may, the French Empire cannot make the temporal power last beyond the EMPEROR's lifetime. By threats of intervention NAPOLEON III. may screw up the Florence Cabinet to stay action against individual adventurers. But the passion for Rome has possessed the people too completely to be eradicated now; and in the long run the popular adventurers who profess to be its exponents will be too strong for the more moderate Liberals. France, if she is wise, will endeavour to arrange the matter while she can still arrange it on her own terms. The time is fast approaching when she will be unable to dictate terms at all to Italy when VICTOR EMMANUEL must break decisively with France, or with his own subjects. In vain ye brave Anacreons' cry, "Of Love alone my banjo sings ' (Erōta mounon). "Etiam si, Eh bien ? replied the saucy things, "Go find a maid whose hair is gray, And strike your lyre, - we shan't complain; But parce nobis, s'il vous plait, Voilà Adolphe! Voilà Eugène !" Ah, jeune Lisette! Ah, belle Fifine! Anacreon's lessons all must learn; I kinos oxus; Spring is green, hear you whispering from the dust, But Acer Hyems waits his turn! "Tiens, mon cher, c'est toujours so, The brightest blade grows dim with rust, The fairest meadow white with snow!" You do not mean it! Not encore? Multoties, Non possum, nonne est ? more than twenty times; vraiment, pas du tout, Some ancients like my rusty lay, I But time my wits has quite unfixed, Et quoad verba, - for my word's, Ciel! Eheu! Whe-ew how they're mixed! Meherole! Zeu! Diable! how My thoughts were dressed when I was young, But tempus fugit! see them now Half clad in rags of every tongue! O philoi, fratres, chers amis ! I dare not court the youthful Muse, For fear her sharp response should be, 'Papa Anacreon, please excuse!" Adieu! I've trod my annual track How long! let others count the miles, And peddled out my rhyming pack To friends who always paid in smiles. So, laissez-moi! some youthful wit No doubt has wares he wants to show; And I am asking, "Let me sit." Dum ille clamat, "Dos pou sto!" Atlantic Monthly. THE ZU-LULOGICAL DIFFICULTY. THE Bishops with regard to DR. COLENSO are like the celebrated Parrot they don't speak but they "think the more."- Punch. Saturday Review, 441 443 Spectator, 445 N.Y. Evening Post, 447 8. A Stranger's Impressions of Vienna 9. Germany 10. Admiral Farragut's Visit 11. The Situation in Rome 12. Dr. Stevens's History of the Methodist Church POETRY: After Long Years, 386. As Day by Day, 386. Courage, Dear Heart, 386. Trotty, 437. Preparing for Publication at this Office THE CHAPLET OF PEARLS. By the author of "Heir of Redclyffe.” THE BROWNLOWS. By Mrs. Oliphant. LINDA TRESSEL. By the author of Nina Balatka." THE BRAMLEIGHS OF BISHOP'S FOLLY. By Charles Lever. ALL FOR GREED. PHINEAS FINN, THE IRISH MEMBER. By W. Trollope. Just Published at this Office THE TENANTS OF MALORY. By J. S. Le Fanu. 50 cents. PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY LITTELL & GAY, BOSTO N. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. FOR EIGHT DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, the Living Age will be punctually forwarded for a year, free of postage. But we do not prepay postage on less than a year; nor where we have to pay e mmission for forwarding the money. Price of the First Series, in Cloth, 36 volumes, 90 dollars. Second Third 66 The Complete work Any Volume Bound, 3 dollars; Unbound, 2 dollars. The sets, or volumes, will be sent at the expense of the publishers. : AS DAY BY DAY. As day by day the years go on, It must be strange to wake at morn, So day by day, so old and grey, The people go on living, Till life hath taken all away, And death begins its giving. - Argosy. COURAGE, DEAR HEART. Courage, dear heart, we must not both despair, Yes, it is hard, the drenching, blinding mist, That if it could would shut me out from you; The snake Despair that from its fastness hissed, The fair false hope that to the ravine drew; But we were saved, we are God's children yet, He will not let us go though we forget. And even on our toilsome way there come Sweet scents from bruisèd flowers and winds astray; The sound of sunshine in the wild bees' hum, While tamed with fear the birds around us play; The very dumb things gain some good from harm; Courage from fright, and boldness from alarm. Still, it is hard, no darkness will be light, Though we should call it light from night till morn; We can but wait until the dawning bright Shall show us how it was we were forlorn : Not all forlorn, through deepest darkness, friend; Love's joy alone doth never change nor end. - Argosy Part of an article in Fraser's Magazine. WILLIAM COBBETT. WILLIAM Cobbett was born in this house in 1762. It was then the residence of his father, a small farmer, and does not seem to have been much altered in appearance. It is a decent-looking brown-roofed house, with two small windows on each side of the open door, and five on the second floor; the sign of The Jolly Farmer' set on a pole in front, and the thick grove shading it on each flank and rising high above the chimneys. In my own home in a distant part of the kingdom, Cobbett's name chanced to mix with some of the earliest circumstances of my childhood. My father, who was then a kind of Tory, had in his younger days been a Radical reformer, and subscriber to the Political Register, of which paper a long row of volumes bound in red stood on a shelf in his bedroom. Always curious about books, I did not fail to turn these over, and to ask the meaning of the Gridiron picture, and who Cobbett was, though I could not make much of what I was told, or enjoy, until long afterwards, the variety, vigour, and amusing unreasonableness of that famous agitator. Cobbett has left, dispersed through a hundred volumes or more, many pleasing touches of autobiography, which are now the best parts of his writing, and which might easily be combined into a distinct picture. With respect to my ancestors [he says], I shall go no further back than my grandfather, and for this plain reason that I never heard talk of any prior to him. He was a day-labourer; and I have heard my father say that he worked for one farmer from the day of his marriage to that of his death, upwards of forty years. He died before I was born; but I have often slept beneath the same roof that sheltered him, and where his widow dwelt for many years after his death. It was a little thatched cottage, with a garden before the door. It had but two windows; a damson-tree shaded one, and a clump of filberts the other. Here I and my brothers went every Christmas and Whitsuntide to spend a week or two, and torment the poor old woman with our noise and dilapidations. She used to give us milk and bread for breakfast, and apple-pudding for dinner, and a piece of bread and cheese for our supper. Her fire was made of turf cut from the neighbouring heath; and her evening light was a rush dipped in grease. George Cobbett, this old cottager's son, who from an earning of twopence a day as ploughboy had been able to attend an I do not boys, the eldest of whom was but fifteen years William's love of gardening, which remained with him through life, showed itself early. When six years old -· I climbed up the side of a steep sand-rock [doubtless this one behind the house], and there scooped me out a plot of four feet square to make me a garden, and the soil for which I carried up in the bosom of my little blue smockfrock. ish-haired little rustic, with twinkling grey One sees clearly the sturdy, ruddy, whiteyes, in his blue smock and hobnailed shoes, hoeing pease, scaring the rooks, rolling down a sand-bank with his brothers, now and again running away from his work to follow the hounds, with the certainty of losing his dinner, and the probability of being 'basted' on his return: and on winter evenings learning from his father the arts o reading and writing. I have some faint recollection of going to school to an old woman, who, I believe, did not succeed in learning me my letters. As to politics, we were like the rest of the country people in England; that is to say, we neither knew nor thought anything about the matter. The shouts of victory or the murmurs of a defeat would now and then break in upon our tranquillity for a moment; but I do not ever remember having seen a newspaper in my father's house. |