Italy is again overrun by Austrian armies, Francis II. reconducted to Naples, the Duke of Tuscany once more enthroned in the Pitti Palace, and the very monarchy of Sardinia which at present seeks to clutch the old Roman dominion, swept out of the world. If death would only knock at a certain chamber of the Tuileries, the ex-prince of Modena might not only claim his own again, but revel in the appanage of the Transalpine kingdom, thrown in by way of recompense for his faithful adherence to legitimist principles. At all events, Francis II. and his companion in misfortune, think it useless to quit the land of their former glories, since so slight a turn of fortune's wheel may replace them in their old positions; and therefore the one on the Tiber, and the other by the Po, are anxiously awaiting the result of eventualities.

If into any question Fate had contrived to pack the most inflammable materials, she could hardly have contrived a more ignitible bag of sulphur than what is involved in the solution of Italian unity. The question of races is complicated by the question of religion, and that of both, by the rights of legitimacy as opposed to the sovereignty of peoples. The question of nationality alone ought to match the flames of war it must excite without, by the feuds of provincial jealousy it must light up within. Then there are a host of minor questions, each sufficient to furnish matter for broils and discord during one generation at least; the question of capitols, of the rights of minor principalities, of the privileges of municipal governments, of the distribution of fiscal burdens and national armaments. Looking at the whole thing, we are certainly astonished that the combustible compound has maintained itself so long in a state of quiescence, that the materials have not exploded long ago, and blown to pieces not only Italy, but every body and every thing that has had the remotest connection with it.

We have no wish to exaggerate the difficulties which beset the path of Italian regeneration. We feel, indeed, it is only by looking these difficulties straight in the face, by probing the extent of them, that we can discover the best remedies, and urge those whose business is concerned herein to be as prompt as possible in their application. Were people fully aware of the ball of fire hanging over their heads,

Nor

they would insist on its being put out on the shortest notice. If there was a bog in a populous locality which broke up the road, and threatened to visit the neighborhood with a pestilential miasma, the demand would proceed from ten thousand mouths to have the place covered in and a path formed for continuous progress. would the ferment be likely to be staid by the knowledge that the opposition emanated only from one quarter, which was supposed to find its peculiar account in jeopardizing the lives of millions, and arresting the march of civilization. All continental Europe has an immediate interest in the settlement of the Italian question. But to the Italians themselves these reïterated delays, this perpetual marching forward in order to move backward, is a matter of life and death. With one foot on dry land, with the other in a boggy syrtis, as dismal as that which swallowed up their ancient armies, not knowing whether they are destined to belong to the regions of light or to those of chaos, their position is one of extreme weakness, with all the pain of the most agonizing doubt. After buffeting the waves of revolution and grasping the shore, they find themselves in a state of exhaustion, enveloped in wave which threatens to drag them down to the uttermost abyss. If the obstruction came from an enemy, it would be understood, and, doubtless, dealt with accordingly. But the obstacle comes in the guise of a friend, who has in reality helped them to reach the haven he forbids them to enter. The Italians are consequently obliged to fawn upon the imperial shade which stands between them and their hopes, to lick the hand which pinions them to the precipice, to praise those procrastinations as the hesitations of wisdom which they would otherwise denounce as the most wicked of follies. Or if a sterner voice from the tortured reaches the ear of the torturer, it is only to use a similar entreaty to that which Burke addressed to his recalcitrant constituents at Bristol: "Condole with us if we fall, cheer us if we succeed, chide us if we stray; but do let us move on; for God's sake let us move on!"

The state of Italy has of late been the topic of much discussion both in the Parliament and the press, but we have not met in either quarter with what we consider a faithful picture of its real condition. It is