generous emotion. Now let us suppose for a moment that each of these sections of society could plant itself on the standing ground of the other, and survey the question as it would then appear. The view of the Liberal party is, that no sovereign, lay or ecclesiastical, has a right to keep down by main force a people which has declared unanimously against him, and still less any right to repress them by foreign aid; that this would be the case even if there were little or no fault to find with the mode in which he administers the government, but is infinitely worse in countries where there is notoriously but indifferent security to life and property, unequal justice, intolerant taxation, wasteful expenditure, and a cruel and intolerant code of laws. The despotic party, on the other hand, holds that it is not only the right but the duty of the autocratic rulers of Italy to maintain their authority, were it only for the protection of society; that the attacks made upon them are the work of a seditious and sanguinary faction, anxious to destroy for their own selfish ends established institutions, and in league with anarchists, brigands, and desperadoes of all kinds; and that their mode of government, even if it were as bad as represented by its opponents (which it is not), would be followed, in the event of the success of that faction, by something infinitely worse. As to the Pope, the idea of depriving him of his temporal power seems to them a monstrous and sacrilegious profanity, by the side of which all former measures of Church spoliation were venial errors, and the result of which must be fatal to his spiritual

supremacy, and therefore to the interests and even the existence of the Church. The rebellion of his subjects they look upon as the act of wilful and disobedient children, forgetful of the allegiance and gratitude which they owe to a mild and indulgent Father, the Vicar of Christ upon earth, by whom it is their enviable privilege to be ruled.

Now, for my own part, I believe that the right in this matter lies on the Liberal side, and that if free institutions on a permanent basis could be given to Italy, a great wrong would be redressed and a great triumph won. But that is not now the question. What I am contending for is, that if each party could clearly comprehend the view taken by the other, there would be an end to that spirit of deadly animosity which is worse than the very evils out of which it has sprung. Each would see that its opponents were acting, however wrongly, with a real belief in the justice of their cause; and would cease to charge them with selfishness and cruelty, wicked motives and evil designs, and so to keep alive a flame far more deadly and disastrous in its effects than all the severities of despotism and all the extravagances of democracy.

Quarrels, in short, whether of nations or of individuals, are for the most part really what they are termed euphoniously-" misunderstandings;" and if this could be generally recognised and acted upon, there would be a fair prospect of getting rid of a large and pestilent class of them altogether. You don't hate a man or quarrel with him simply because he has injured you; for if he had done so by accident,

VOL. I.

X

you would bear him no grudge whatever. It is because you think he intended to injure you; that he has some sort of personal dislike or contempt for you; or has shown by his sacrificing your interests to his own an unwarrantable disregard for you and your concerns-that you have declared war upon him. If you could see the matter from his point of view, you would probably find that among the various motives which decided his line of conduct, ill-feeling towards yourself had no place at all; that he has persuaded himself of the justice of his course, as you have of yours, and that in fact you have no better grounds for your hostility than if he had done you an injury by mere mischance. Thus, in the great order of things, Charity and Truth are linked together in the bonds of a subtle and beautiful harmony-thus between moral and intellectual truth there is a deep indissoluble accord; and thus, the "whole round world"-the moral as well as the physical world—

is every way

Bound with gold chains about the feet of God.

TWO MONTHS IN ROME.* *

A COLD, dark street, as deep and narrow as a well, and lighted apparently, at rare intervals, by farthing candles; a few muffled-up forms, grumbling and hungry (for there is not the ghost of an inn to be seen), by the side of a vehicle, consisting, as it would seem, of two old yellow post-chaises cemented together, its bare pole stuck helplessly out and waiting for fresh horses. The horses arrive; the grumblers are absorbed into the vehicle; the big boots of the old conductor stow themselves into some mysterious corner above; the postilion mounts; and away, jingling and whip-cracking, creaking and groaning, between the rare farthing candles into the bosom of the night. The street was the town of Orvieto— the vehicle was the diligence from Florence, or rather Ficulle-and the grumblers were the passengers for Rome.

In all the world there is nothing more pleasant than a night journey behind four, or rather six, horses. I suppose that night, in that cold cramped corner of the coupé, was the happiest of my life. On, for hours and hours, in a sleep which is not

* Published in Macmillan's Magazine for April, 1864.

rest but something far more delightful—that strange mixture of excitement and repose which is to be had in this and in no other way, and from which every feverish fitful waking is not to the gloom of a curtained chamber, but to the stars of a November night; lulled by the monotonous motion into a kind of apathy to which nothing could come amiss, and all that happened -even the periodical descent of the big boots and their translation in the supernal regions — seemed part of a delicious dream; on for hours, rattling merrily down transient slopes, or climbing painfully (these diligence horses are certainly immortal) intermediate hills; on, while the larger bright stars wax larger and brighter (you are kept awake for an hour or so wondering at their marvellous size); and behind all-the background of your dreams-(if your destination is what mine was then) the shadow of a coming joy.

Social institutions, with their usual felicity, have provided that no one shall see the sun rise but those who cannot appreciate it. This is much to be deplored. "Stars fade out and galaxies, streetlamps of the city of God."* But, before they fade, they put on all the beauty of despair, and shine, in that hour and in that sky, with a lustre so broad, bright, and intense, that you look at them bewildered, and only after a time perceive that in the unearthly depth of their deep blue setting there is a strange look where it nears the horizon, and that a faint white radiance is gradually melting it away.

* Carlyle.

And