found that, in the new aspect so painfully given to the trial of Galileo, "scientific truth has been separated from the accessories of human passion which had envenomed it," and that science and religion have rushed into each other's arms. Religion is never less divine than when virulent passion has been the impulse, and human ends the achievement; and science can never be honoured when its representative abjures the truths with which God has inspired him, and casts away the crown of martyrdom in his grasp.

It is a grievous fact in the history of the Catholic Church, that two of its functionaries-the Grand Inquisitor of Rome and the Keeper of its Secret Archives-should have appeared in the middle of the 19th century to defend the Inquisition of the 17th by at once slandering the high priest of science and the High Priest of Rome; and, strange to relate, that this defence should consist in the plea that it condemned truth and threatened torture to its apostle in order to gratify private revenge! The Commissary-General Olivieri must have been amused at the success with which he served up as new to "a simple savant," as M. Biot calls himself, the old slander from the pages of Venturi; and Monsignore Marino-Marini, the keeper and garbler of the sacred archivesmay yet have to answer to united Italy for the falsification of the documents of his Church, and his venomous slander of Galileo. From the metropolis of Italian Sardinia, Baron Plana has anticipated the feelings of his countrymen; and the child of Pisa, the stripling of Padua, the ornament of Florence, and the prisoner of Rome, will doubtless stand before his liberated country as the dauntless assertor of physical truth, the morning star of Italian science, and the type of Italy stretching her dungeoned limbs and girding herself for victory.

We would willingly leave M. Biot to the judgment of others -his "Conversation in the Vatican," etc., to be appreciated by his colleagues in the Institute-and his heartless commentaries to the dissection of Baron Plana and the philosophers of Italy. Great men are not the worshippers of the greatest. He who is highest in the lists of fame may be lowered to our own level, and the slanderer may rejoice in his work; but posterity, ever just to genius, will continue to assert its rights and avenge the victim. He who has not spared the sacred memory of Newton, with his "white soul" and lofty intellect, might have been silent over the errors of Galileo, and wept over his many woes.

The Sicilian Game.

ART. X.-The Sicilian Game.

549

THE Sicilian method of opening the game of chess is extremely irregular, and very little practised. But the chess authorities tell us that, in the hands of a good player, it is the most brilliant and successful of all the openings. On the political chessboard of Europe, a great game has now been commenced with the Sicilian move. As nothing can be more irregular than the method of attack, so we hope that the final checkmate will be rapid and brilliant, that those who deserve to win will win gloriously, and that those who deserve to lose will lose unmistakeably. To understand this great game, however, we must remember that it is not confined to the Sicilies alone, nor even to Italy. Sicily is but a distant square upon the board. The game is European. France is one of the prime movers in it; Austria has large interests at stake; and what sincere Catholic does not feel concerned in whatever may happen to the chair of St Peter? Moreover, as Lord John Russell pointed out in a late despatch to our ambassador at Turin, Great Britain is to some extent implicated in the struggle, for we hold in the Adriatic the rebellious Ionian Islands by a tenure precisely the same as that which Austria can show for Venetia. Nor can Germany be indifferent, when she sees that the same rule of thumb which has annexed Savoy to France, and has all but succeeded in subjecting the whole of Italy to the sceptre of Sardinia, may, with scarcely less reason, be applied to the rectification of the Rhenish frontier, and made to prove the advantages of uniting the petty German states under a single ruler. What is more, the events now occurring in Syria are an unpleasant diversion which, having thus far established the principle of a French intervention, may lead to we know not what results. Our hands may be tied in the East, or they may be tied in the West, so as to give to France or to Russia the power of accomplishing, without check, the worst designs. The forces engaged are tremendous. The issues at stake are of incalculable importance. It is for Italy, for Naples, for Garibaldi, and for Victor Emmanuel, that we feel the more immediate interest. But no one who examines the situation thoroughly will permit himself to be blinded by the actual position of the game to the larger possibilities which it involves. It may be that the fires now running along the Italian valleys will burn out; but fires are not easily extinguished, and especially if the firemen feed the flames with oil. Last year we had a mighty conflagration in Northern Italy, which filled the coollest heads in Europe with alarm. This year we have a smaller blaze in Southern Italy, which is scarcely less

dangerous. On the Continent they are far more alarmed about it than we are in England; and there is some reason to hope that the precautions dictated by this alarm will be the means of ensuring peace for Europe and safety for Italy. A few months will show; a few weeks may decide. Meanwhile we invite our readers to a rapid survey of the Italian struggle as far as it has gone, and to a calm analysis of the results to which that struggle is tending.

It would be very pleasant if we could enter upon this investigation with a firm grasp of principles. Unhappily, at the present moment, the British Government, herein representing the British nation, has no definite principles of foreign policy. Broadly it may be stated, that we are so well satisfied with the actual results, as to be willing to shut our eyes to the means by which the results have been attained. We sympathize with the aspirations of Italians, rejoice in their freedom, and fondly trust that the creation of a strong Italian kingdom is something more tangible than a dream. England is eager to accept what has been achieved in Italy as accomplished facts. And yet, at every step of the process by which these facts have been accomplished, she is obliged to turn her head away in shame, to hide her blushes in a pocket-handkerchief, and to pronounce the timid, feminine No, when she loves nothing better than Yes. The position is not a dignified one, and is the result of a compromise between our theories and our practical instincts. The foreign policy of this country, in so far as it is capable of definition, resolves itself into one word - Non-intervention. But we have really never been able to determine what the word means. "Non-intervention!" said Talleyrand "non-intervention! I do not know what it means. is a political word-a diplomatic word, which is very nearly equivalent to intervention." Recognising the great principle of non-interference as the corner-stone of international law, the question arises, whether the law is of any value unless it be enforced. What is the nature of that man's virtue which prevents him from robbing his neighbour's cash-box, but permits him to see the robbery effected by somebody else without raising an alarm? What are the professions of that man worth, who, incapable of committing murder himself, allows his friend to be murdered before his eyes? What is the meaning of non-intervention, if it is a principle binding upon ourselves, so that while we religiously refuse to interfere, we allow anybody else to do so? We saw France interfering in Italy. We murmured at what we were powerless to prevent; and when victory crowned the French arms, we presented our congratulations to the Emperor, and the right hand of fellowship to King Victor Emmanuel. So

It

with regard to various other acts, such as the absorption of Tuscany and the Emilia,-we shook our heads and smiled. It was but the other day that our Foreign Secretary wrote to Turin, expressing an earnest hope that Sardinia did not mean to attack Naples, and menacing Count Cavour with the displeasure of England if he did not give up all idea of assailing Austria in her Venetian province. Yet, if Lord John Russell studies the popular feeling, he must know that nothing gives greater pleasure to the people of this country than to hear of Victor Emmanuel's advance upon Naples-that nothing would be more applauded than a successful assault on Venetia. So we, who three years ago found it hard enough to defend ourselves for permitting Italian refugees to conspire in our island against the life of Napoleon, although neither the Government nor the people of Great Britain had the slightest cognizance of their plots, should find it difficult to characterize the conduct of Victor Emmanuel in not only permitting an expedition to be organized in his dominions against a neighbouring state, with which he was on friendly terms, but in himself invading that state at the head of his army. However difficult it may be to characterize such a breach of international usage, the position of our people with reference to it is so illogical, that they are all in favour of Garibaldi's filibustering and Victor Emmanuel's invasion. Britain, on great occasions, has often been illogical, and in the present emergency we are reminded of the manner in which the British Parliament treated Clive. The readers of Macaulay's brilliant memoir will remember how the House of Commons first of all laid down the major proposition, that it is illegal for the servants of the State to appropriate to themselves what the arms of the State have acquired, and what belongs therefore alone to the governing power. It next laid down the minor proposition, that the English functionaries in Bengal had systematically appropriated the monies of the State, and that Clive had, as commander of the British forces, obtained large sums which of right belonged to the Government he served. In the next resolution it appeared to be inevitable that the House of Commons would pronounce the logical conclusion of these two propositions. On the contrary, the third decision at which it arrived was, that Clive had at the same time rendered great and meritorious services to his country. Spite of all delinquencies, and much that is ambiguous, we could not condemn the hero for whom, in our heart of hearts, we nursed admiration and gratitude. And it is with similar inconsistency, that, in the face of doubts and difficulties which rudely jostle with our sense of moral right and international propriety, we refuse to condemn him who, by anticipation, may be styled the King of Italy, and we heartily

wish him good speed. We cannot pretend to give our approval to all the doublings and windings of the Cavour policy, to the interference of France, and to the settlement of Sardinian claims at the point of the sword. But, on the other hand, how is it possible to have any sympathy with Austria, with the Papal Government, with Bomba or Bombino? There is the same wild justice in the Italian campaigns which the philosopher tells us is the characteristic of revenge. It is well to recognise that Judge Lynch, with all his faults, may be a public benefactor; and our jealousy of French activity need not urge us to a denial of the good which it has effected in Italy.

At last we have the prospect of seeing the entire Peninsula, with the exception of Rome and of Venetia, united under one head. If the Italian kingdom can be consolidated without Rome and Venetia, then we may rest assured that the Eternal City and the famous Quadrilateral will soon follow. But that is precisely the question which has to be solved; and as yet we can only count upon an Italian kingdom deprived of its metropolitan city, and with its most formidable fastnesses in the hands of the enemy. Quicker than we can write, the telegraph brings us the news of success after success attending the patriot arms; and in all probability before these pages come before the reader, some of the events to which they refer will be stale and unprofitable. We shall, therefore, leaving mere narrative to the correspondents of the daily papers, confine ourselves here to general remarks.

That which must first of all strike any one who candidly examines the state of affairs in Italy, is the unanimity of sentiment and the moderation of conduct which the Italian people have displayed. Talk of the great leaders as we may, admire Garibaldi, criticise Cavour, and toast Victor Emmanuel-still the great fact to which we must revert is the ripeness of the Italians for the present movement. We might have seen the pear plucked without being ripe, and might have applauded the dash of the filibuster, the astuteness of the statesman, and the courage of the ardent king, as we applaud ability and courage wherever it is to be found. It is the maturity of the Italian mind that chiefly excites our astonishment, awakens our interest, and satisfies our moral sense. Here lies the vindication of all that has taken place. From the people comes Victor Emmanuel's indemnity. We have nothing to say in favour of the farce of universal suffrage, such as we have seen it in Savoy and Nice; nor could we, in full recollection of the Ionian Islands, of India, and of Ireland some years ago, easily maintain that the government of a country ought always to depend upon the popular voice. But with regard to Italy the doubt has never been expressed that the sentiment in favour of unity and Victor Emmanuel is