"possible in our epoch; in the liberty "and equality of the peoples, without "which no true association can exist; "in nationality, which is the conscience "of the peoples, and which, by assign"ing to them their part in the work "of association, their function in "humanity, constitutes their mission "upon earth, their individuality, with"out which neither liberty or equality "are possible: in the sacred Father"land, cradle of nationality; altar and 66 workshop of the individuals of which "it is composed."

Such, then, is a brief outline of the programme of the new society of which Mazzini now first conceived the idea. We know that many, if not most, Englishmen are apt to suppose Mazzini as a wild dreamer, and essentially unpractical; yet we think that, if foresight for the future, adaptation of means to ends, and study of facts, constitute practicality, the founder of the New Italy must be allowed some claim to that quality. There is, at the same time, a logical basis to his doctrine of the duties of man which distinguishes him from those who are even now preaching it in a somewhat different form. Bravely and nobly as the Comtists have maintained their high creed, there is something vague and unsatisfactory about their notion of humanity which makes it rather "too fine for working-days." Mazzini's sense of a mission from above, his war-cry of "God and the People," supplies a deficiency which those who most desire to sympathise with the efforts of the Comtists must always feel; a deficiency which may lead some people to the most unjust conclusion that their connexion of morality with politics is a mere adventitious part of their scheme, not, as it evidently is with Mazzini, a necessary foundation for the whole.

Nor is it only in the larger and wider sense that Mazzini's programme is practical. In the more conventional use of the word, as a mere condescension to details, "practicality" is one of its prominent characteristics. The following will at once interest and surprise many Englishmen."

"To the State, since justice is equal for "all citizens, belongs the unity of the judicial organization of the country, "the code, the appointment of judges "of the supreme courts, and the magis"trates who direct the administration "of justice; the communes will elect "local juries and the members of tri"bunals of arbitration and commerce. "The State will determine the amount "of the national tribute, and its distri"bution over the various zones of the

territory; the communes, under the "direction of the State, will determine "all local tributes, and also the method "of levying national tribute."

The opportunity of developing his idea was soon to come. No sooner was Mazzini freed from prison, and acquitted by the judges for want of evidence, than he once more plunged into political action. The Italian Revolution of 1831 had just broken out, and he crossed over to France, to rouse his countrymen who were there in exile. Here it was that he discovered one of the great errors against which he afterwards most strongly protested. France was to the Italians of that day what Egypt was to the Jews of the days of Jeremiah; and, though indignant at this almost servile trust in a foreign country, Mazzini was inclined at first to sympathise with the feeling which his friends exaggerated.

But a rude shock was soon given to these hopes. Louis Philippe forbad the expedition which Mazzini and his friends were then organizing to Savoy, seized upon all their arms on which he could lay hands, and threatened them with the terrors of the law if they persisted. Mazzini urged on them to continue the expedition, putting among them as many of the French workmen as possible. But the Frenchmen deserted them on an appeal from their officers, and the expedi tion was abandoned. A short attempt to raise the standard of liberty and truth in Corsica was frustrated by the selfishness of the Bolognese Government, and Mazzini retired to Marseilles to carry out the ideas which he had conceived in the fortress of Savona.

From this time, therefore, dates Maz

zini's position as a leader and initiator. Hitherto he had been but one of a large body of men who were struggling by fits and starts for the liberty of their country. Now, as the founder of the Giovane Italia, he was to be the centre and life of a great organized effort, not merely for the freedom and unity, but for the entire regeneration, of Italy, and, if the opportunity should offer, of Europe. One more attempt, however, he made to reconcile his aspirations, to some extent, with the existing institutions of his country. This was the famous letter to Charles Albert, urging on him to ally himself with the popular movement to work out Italian independence and unity. It ends thus:-"Sire, I have "spoken to you the truth. The men "of freedom await your answer in your "deeds. Whatsoever that answer be,

rest assured that posterity will either “hail your name as that of the greatest of men, or of the last of Italian tyrants. "Take your choice." The king accepted the challenge in full, and the first proof of that acceptance was the banishment of Mazzini. Thus finally free to work out his idea, and endeared to the youth of Italy by his sufferings in their cause, Mazzini began vigorously to preach the doctrines which he saw to be then needful for his countrymen. In the sketch which we gave above of the principles on which the Giovane Italia was founded, we alluded chiefly to those evils which, though specially perceived by Mazzini in Italy, were, as he knew, common to all countries in a transitional state. The adoration of France, which we mentioned first, was however a more peculiarly Italian failing. This he traced to two causes -their materialism and their Machiavellianism.1 For their "idolatry of material interests" he would substitute his faith in God and his doctrine of duty, for their belief in mere cunning diplomacy, his appeal to the people. The enemies, therefore, of the

1 It should be observed that of Machiavelli himself he always speaks with the greatest respect, and he believes his famous book to be meant as a history of the times, rather than as the promulgation of a doctrine.

Giovane Italia in every country were the "Moderate" party-those, that is, who, trusting to diplomatic measures without any definite faith of their own, were ready to accept any programme that occasion offered. This party was now at the head of affairs in France where the head-quarters of the Giovane Italia were laid, and they soon began an active persecution against that society and its founder. Unable to en

force the decree of banishment, which in deference to Charles Albert (who had now entirely thrown off the mask, and was showing the true cruelty of his nature), had been issued against them: unable too in any way either to seize the persons or suppress the writings of the society, the French Government resorted to the meaner and safer weapon of slander. Story after story was invented of the secret doings of the society; again and again Mazzini compelled his enemies to eat their words, and again and again the calumnies were renewed. As Mazzini justly says, "It "is the war of cowards, for it is fought "without peril, and beneath the shield "of power; it silences defence by vio"lence, and takes advantage even of "the disdainful silence of the accused "to give force to the calumny."

But, in spite of slanders and persecutions, Young Italy laboured on. A journal was started, called after the society, and in this Mazzini and his friends wrote some of their most stirring appeals to their countrymen. Other societies became absorbed in theirs, and amongst them the remains of the Carbonari. Founded, too, by exiles in a foreign country, the possibilities of an alliance with similar societies in other countries were greater, and a union with the Poles, which has ever been one of the chief objects of the sympathies of Italian republicans, was now first begun. In Italy, too, the cruelties of Charles Albert and the other princes had bound together all lovers of liberty, and many who afterwards joined the Moderate party were now in sympathy with the Giovane Italia. At length they once more prepared for action.

An army was raised. Armand Carrel and other French republicans prepared to act simultaneously in France. An accident betrayed their plans. The Governments managed by false reports to excite a dread of their intentions. Many were seized and imprisoned; a few recanted; many were condemned to death, and some executed. Jacopo Ruffini committed suicide.

Roused still more by this partial failure, Mazzini at once urged his friends to march on Savoy. The guidance of the expedition was entrusted to Ramozino, a Polish general, strongly against the wishes of Mazzini; but he gave way as usual, and joined the band as a simple soldier. Ramozino appears to have been half fool, half traitor. A failure in the early part of the expedition decided him to desert it at the first pinch; the Italians, alone and unaided, were defeated, and forced to take refuge in Switzerland. So ended the first attempt at action. "The first period of Young Italy," says Mazzini, "was concluded."

The rest of the historical part of these volumes is devoted to the sufferings of the exiles in Switzerland; Mazzini's escape to England, and sojourn there; the infamous episode of the opening of his letters by Sir James Graham; an interesting notice of Mazzini's education of the poor Italian organ-grinders; and a short account of the sad, though noble, effort of the brothers Bandiera. The better-known portion of his life is left for the remaining three volumes, which are not yet published in English.

Before closing this review, however, we must take some notice of the second of these volumes, to which we have very incidentally alluded, and which contains his critical and literary writings. Perhaps the literary efforts of one whose thoughts on every subject are so deeply tinged by his political feeling may be expected to have little interest for the generality of readers; but we think there are some things in this volume well worthy their study. For the mere critical faculty, indeed, of pulling things to pieces, and finding small holes in great works, Mazzini's

genius is eminently unfitted. "Analysis" is the name with which he always condemns the spirit most opposed to the gospel which he preaches. “Synthesis," construction, are his objects; and the circumstances under which he has fought for them have made him perhaps unduly impatient of the literary form of this analysis, and possibly even of the kind of ability displayed in it. Writings and men he considers more as wholes than in detail, and with reference rather to the greatness of the aim and idea than the special grace or delicacy of the means. The cry of "art for art's sake" he denounces as 66 a false French doctrine." But, though this state of mind may incapacitate him for giving judgment on those kinds of poetry or prose that rest their claim to our admiration purely on their external artistic excellence; yet at the same time, with the greater epic poets, and still more with the dramatists, it brings him into a sympathy, and therefore gives him an insight into their works, which no merely literary critic could have. Take, for instance, the following passage Eschylus :-" One might fancy that his "heroes were of Titanic race, and only "to be overcome by unyielding, omni

on

potent, and inexorable fatality. But "when he felt the soul of the Greek "world, liberty, thrill within him, "when he remembered having fought "at Salamis against the East, and shed "his blood in the cause of the European "principle against the inertia and ser"vitude imposed by Asia; he protested against and denied the empire of that fatality which from the height of its "mysteries and theogony yet dominated "his country." Or, again, this on Shakespeare:-"His genius compre"hends and sums up the past and

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present; it does not initiate the "future. Necessity, which was the "soul of the period, stalks invisibly throughout his dramas, magically in"troduced, whether by art or instinct I "know not. I know that its reflex is "seen alike on the brow of Othello "and Macbeth; it colours the scepti"cism of Hamlet and the light irony of

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'Mercutio, and it surrounds with a "halo of previsioned woe the figures of "his women, sacred to love, innocence "and resignation." Again :-" In Æschylus the individual is divorced from "his will; the decree of fatality goes "forth while it yet sleeps in his mother's arms; the curse on the father extends "to the children, and the only liberty vouchsafed to man is that of dying "more or less nobly. In Shakespeare "and this is a real progress-liberty "does exist; the acts of a single day, "it may be of an hour, have thrown an "entire life under the dominion of necessity, but in that day or that "hour the man was free, and arbiter of "his own future."

But though he thus, in most of his reviews, subordinates his criticisms on the surrounding circumstances to those on the idea and aim of the poet, we see evidently that he has educated himself into his contempt of "art for art's sake," and that though, as we said, the critical faculty as it is now generally understood has been denied to him, yet the power of appreciating artistic beauty is strong within him, and it is only by careful repression that he keeps it down at all. That, at least, seems to us the natural explanation of the fact that the following passage was first produced, and then condemned to appear as a foot-note :-"The "comparison often instituted by critics "between the three Greek dramatists is just, if regarded from an æsthetic 66 point of view, but not so from the point of view of the conception or "idea. Sophocles and Euripides are "followers; Eschylus is the father of "the art. The external representation "of the idea is more masterly in them; "their form is more graceful and delicate; they arose at a later period, "when Greek civilization was greatly refined, and the already improved position of women caused them to "exercise a greater influence on society. "Sophocles painted, Eschylus sculp"tured, his forms of art. The strokes

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CHAPTER XLV.

THE DOUBTS THAT STING.

WHOм to trust! Where trust is broken, in certain natures, there is not only no recovery, but, if I may so speak, no discernment. Such natures no longer distinguish who is loyal and who is false. In proportion to their love for the deceiver, is the belief that none now can be true. When young Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, admits to his grieving, half-maddened soul the conviction that his mother is unworthy, he does not reserve a better faith for the purity of Ophelia, or the matron holiness of spotless wives. He sweeps the whole sex into one dark gulf of degradation, and exclaims

"Frailty, thy name is WOMAN !"

The franker and nobler a man's own nature is, the more is his confusion under such circumstances. How it could come to pass he knows not; but he, or she, or they whom he most trusted, whom he thought he had most reason to trust, are false; there is no doubt of their falsehood: ergo, none can be sincere.

Alice guided her canoe over the shallows and rapids of her halfbrother's miserable thoughts with a skill which Satan only can supply to his worshippers. What she admitted -with showers of tears and pale gasping lips-helped her through that which she concealed; and though no explanation that could be given could clear her from her own share of dissimulation, she somehow contrived to seem a victim instead of an offender. was like one walking in a dream," said she, passing her slender hand over her forehead in slow musing accompa

"I

niment to the slowly uttered words. "And then, besides, I was afraid. Afraid for his life-and-and-" (here her voice sank to a frightened whisper) "somewhat for my own. I didn't exactly know all-oh, not the half of all! But I knew he had not those scruples that-that most men have; and he had lived-he used to tell me that -in savage lands, where life is not made of the importance it is here; so many nameless deaths there, and sudden deaths, and none to ask about them—” and Alice gave a little shudder.

"Oh! he wasn't like you-he wasn't like YOU-" she continued; "he was a man aye fleeing from consequences. But he was not meant to be what he is; he had his excuses; his strange fate. I'm not going to excuse him," she faltered, as she watched Sir Douglas's listening face; "you know it was the good that took me. I thought I had a friend . . . and he took so to the schools... and he seemed a sort of brother... and he talked of leading souls to God... and indeed he made me his own-talking of heaven.

"And there was one other thing: I'll not deny it; I'll not make myself better than I am;" and she laid her trembling hand on Sir Douglas's wrist. "He seemed to love me so. You know I've been so lone, and so used to see others preferred-and there was love all around me- -till I could have cried for envy of Lady Ross. You loved her; and Kenneth would die for her; and even Mr. Boyd. Oh, I could see why it was impossible he could fancy poor me; and indeed Kenneth as good as said it, even if I had not seen it. But this one man loved me-this one man loved ME; and thought nothing of Lady Ross in comparison."

The wonderful vehemence with which