all the vehement and fiery invective which even the greatest of orators can pour on his victim, and yet survive the castigation ; though by a moderate poetical license he may for once be spoken of as "the late Mr. But what possible tenacity of political life could hold out, under such a terrible infliction as Hosea makes when he attempts to moralize upon "What Mr. Robinson thinks?" We can not but think that almost any man would rather encounter the "perfect hail-storms of balls" at Cerro Gordo and Chapultepec, than one such missile.

And yet, scorching as may be the satire of this book, we say again, that, with perhaps some trifling abatement, it is legitimately employed. It is not that heartless Epicurean wit, which ever stands ready to launch its polished ridicule at the first one who dares to step out of the old track consecrated by the falsehoods and prejudices of ages, with the well-meant, though perhaps awkward endeavor to improve himself or his fellow-men. It is not the misanthropic and diabolical mockery of a Byron, delighting to cloak the obscenity of vice, and the revolting aspect of blasphemy or irreligion, in the fascinating garb with which genius clothes all its offspring. This book ridicules things that ought to be made ridiculous, and which would have been, long ago, had the world been governed more by truth and justice, and less by falsehood and crime. It employs satire effectively in behalf of objects for which reason and eloquence and appeals to conscience are often employed almost in vain. Surely there are some cases in which even the most cautious could not object to the use of such a helper in the contest for truth and righteousness. Suppose such an example as this. An individual, of great talents and acquirements, a successful lecturer before lyceums and associations, an admired anniversary orator before many colleges, an honored and acceptable minister of his government in foreign countries, tricks himself out with tinsel, a plume, a sword and epauletts, and putting himself at the head of some seven hundred desperate men, collected by the aid of exaggerated representations, and the maddening stimulus of intoxicating drink; leads them into the territory of a foreign government; trains and develops to the highest degree the destructive energy that is in them, and on every occasion when it can be done with the least hazard to himself, incites them and sets them on, like so many hell-hounds, to do their work of blood and death; at intervals of repose, sets them the example of promiscuous and unbridled licentiousness, and thus cultivates in them the appetite and aptitude for all outrages and crimes,-such an one, confiding in the glory acquired by such an enterprise, sets himself before the citizens of his native state, to sue for the highest expression of their confidence in hist integrity and ability, and to ask for their votes to place him in their chief executive office for the administration of just laws, for the

security of equal rights to all, for the support of order, peace and virtue among all classes. How can the shameless presumption and the insulting effrontery of such a claimant for office and honor, be better met than with ridicule! What can better open the eyes of his fellow-citizens to see the hollowness and falsehood of his pretensions, and his actual unfitness for the position to which he aspires! Indeed it may possibly, in the end, prove to have been a great mercy for him to have been laughed at by men, so that he might not at last encounter a mockery from a different source, (Prov. 1: 26,) when the eternal Wisdom shall be avenged on all that have despised her. It must be admitted, however, that ridicule is a weapon which is to be employed for the defense of truth, only when truth herself with all her earnestness laughs at folly; and that it requires, at all times, the highest discretion and self-control, in one who resorts to it, lest he wound truth, while endeavoring to protect her.

One other consideration, suggested by the perusal of this book, deserves a moment's attention. The success and acknowledged effect of these poems, written in so quaint and almost forbidding a style, ought to teach the poets of our day an important lesson. That is, if they would show themselves to be "prophets" and benefactors of mankind, which they sometimes claim to be, let them choose their themes from among the most active and pressing interests of this our daily human life; and let them write, not simply to be accounted poets, nor simply to polish verses and work up figures, over which a pert and conceited criticism shall flutter in admiration. Let them write to teach men their obligations and their destiny, to awaken in their hearts just and noble emotions, to make them in love with the beautiful and true in action and enterprise, not less than in expression and representation. If poets will still talk of being seers and prophets to their fellowmen, let them be true to the prophet's high vocation-teachers of such truths as come from a God of justice, of peace and of love. When they shall come before this most earnest and practical age in such a character, they shall be heard, and their names shall be cherished in grateful remembrance. They would not then have to sing so many laments over the unhappiness of their lot, in falling upon such uncongenial times, and in finding so few to appreciate and applaud the delicate effusions of their fastidious muse. We have had quite enough of common-place and obsolete mythologies. We would have the poet bring his powers to bear at once on the surpassing interests of our times, and the men that live in them. It would be no great matter, though some one should introduce a new metaphor, or frame a stanza of unprecedented melody, or describe with a more exquisite pathos the sorrows of unrequited, selfish love;-the world would be but little better or richer for all that. The met

aphors that we demand are those which shall burn into the obdurate soul of all wickedness a sense of fiery condemnation. The love that we would have celebrated in yet loftier lays, is that which will embrace the outcast and the down-trodden, not less than the refined and the beautiful-the love that has its chosen and everlasting seat in the infinite mind. And, as under a benevolent administration of just law, there may be a necessity for the infliction of the scourge, so satire, even though it be cast in so rough a mold as that of this volume, may have its place and contribute its share of influence in the establishment of universal peace and good-will among men. But the satire for which unhappily there still is use in the world, is not that reckless cachinnation which the unprincipled and egotistic wit sets up indiscriminately over any thing that is assailable by his ridicule, nor that infernal sneer which the misanthrope directs equally against all, because he equally hates all but himself. Truth has occasion for no other ridicule than what can come from a just and benevolent heart; yet she needs, if any, that which can tear off the mask from designing hypocrisy, touch and expose the conscience that makes the braggart oppressor of the defenseless know himself a coward, and whip to their kennels the bloody hounds of military glory.

ART. VI.-THE ITALIAN REVOLUTIONS IN 1848.

A Year of Consolation; by Mrs. BUTLER, late FANNY KEMBLE. New York: Wiley & Putnam.

THE title of this book gives no idea of the subject of it. It is sufficient, however, to say, that the "Year of Consolation" was a year spent in Italy-chiefly at Rome.

When this book issued from the London press, two years ago, it was said, in England, to contain the clearest account of the political condition of the Roman States, and of the reforms contemplated by the new Pope, which had then been given to the public. These facts-aside from the genius which overflows on every page-render it a most valuable introduction to the understanding of recent events. It is for this reason that we place it at the head of a rapid sketch of the Italian revolutions of the past year-several of which have taken place under our own eyeclosing with a conjecture as to the probable fate of Italy and of the Roman church.

To understand the causes of the general discontent which prevailed throughout Italy previous to the late outbreaks, we must go back to the settlement of Italian affairs in 1815. The patri

ots of that country shared in the excited hopes of all oppressed nations, during the preceding period of revolutions. But on the fall of Napoleon, the old hereditary despotisms had every thing their own way. They parcelled out Europe to the reigning families, being governed not at all by the wishes of the people, or by their natural affinities of blood and language, or of a common history, but by an absurd notion of fixing forever a certain balance of power in Europe. And then they formed a holy alliance-a league of sovereigns, to put down with their united armies every attempt at change. Thus the whole weight of Europe pressed on every part. The state of Europe seemed fixed as immovably as that of China; and the young spirit of liberty was thought to be bound in chains for a thousand years.

A temporary repose followed. The nations were exhausted by long wars, and thought more of peace than of liberty. But as they gradually recovered vigor, they began to reflect on their new political situation. They found, then, that though they had fought for twenty years against Napoleon, they had gained little by his overthrow. They had been disposed of for the profit of others, as slaves in the hand of a master.

"We believe," says an Italian writer, "that all the disturbances which have agitated Europe from 1815 to the present timeall the discontent and revolutions of these thirty-two years, and the moral inquietude which more or less agitates society, have been caused by the unnatural and forced partition of Europe by the Congress of Vienna. Its measures for the establishment of peace and the tranquillity of Europe, have proved the germ of all the wars and revolutions which have since occurred, because the only interests then cared for were those of dynasties, families and privileged classes, without any consideration of national feeling, or of the inevitable wants of that new state of society which the revolution had created."

It is common for those who justify this great political crime, to boast that Europe has enjoyed profound peace since the battle of Waterloo. True, there has been no general European war, but profound peace there has not been. There have been two revolutions in France; one in Belgium; constant attempts at revolution in Spain; a bloody war in Poland; while Italy has been full of conspiracies, and only restrained from open revolt through the whole peninsula by large standing armies, and by imprisoning, or surrounding with spies, every man who, with talents enough to make him dangerous, was suspected of liberal principles.

With perhaps the exception of Poland, no country suffered so much from this unnatural arrangement as Italy. Lombardy had for a long time been a part of the Austrian empire, as much as Hungary. But in reality, the whole of Italy was a dependency of Austria. She assumed it as her especial prerogative to establish

her police all over Italy, and to search out and crush every movement in favor of liberty. Not only did she refuse in the least particular to modify or improve her own administration, but she would not permit the Italian government to change theirs. She could ill conceal her hatred of Switzerland, or restrain her disposition to meddle in its affairs. But in Italy, she would not tolerate even the word, liberty. It is matter of history that Austria used her influence with every prince in Italy to obtain a treaty that he should not give a constitution to his subjects. On different occasions she marched her troops to Naples, into Piedmont, and into the Papal States.

It is always galling to a nation of high spirit, to be governed by foreigners; to have all public offices filled by men born in another country and speaking a different language; to be themselves shut out from every place of honor or of power; to pay their money to swell the revenues of strangers; to be dragged before foreign officers in their courts of justice; to be watched by foreign spies, and bullied by foreign soldiers. Such a condition of their country would exasperate any people. It was peculiarly galling to the Italians. If the world could forget, they could not forget that their country was once the mistress of the world. The monuments of her greatness are around them. They are descended from a mighty race,

"Even in whose ashes live their wonted fires."

The recollection of past glory made more bitter the consciousness of their present degradation.

Besides, the Austrian rule in Italy was peculiarly and systematically bad. Its police alone was as great a terror as the inquisition, to one who even whispered against the existing order of things. Every body was watched. The secret agents of the government penetrated every where-into every assembly, into all the cafés, and often even into private families. Patriots-such as Silvio Pellico and Confalonieri-were thrown into the dungeons of Speilberg. Then was it a crime to love one's country. To talk of Italy; to remember her past glory, or to hope for the future, was to incur the suspicion of the government.

We can not conceive of a more melancholy feeling than that of the Italian as he went forth into exile-that he had no country. When the Empress Catharine gave back to Kosciusko his sword, he returned it to her, saying, "I have no more need of a sword, since I have no longer a country." How bitter is such a reflection it is hard for Americans to appreciate, since it is one which they never experience; they are never driven into exile for loving their country.

Or to stay in such a country, and suffer its oppression; to be watched hourly like a prisoner; to feel the snares of tyranny coil