worm. Imagine thoroughfares similar to those of the Dutch Capital, sometimes finding their termination in the Lagoon, more frequently abutting upon squares skirted on three sides by public or private edifices, and on the remaining side opening from a wharf-lined quay to the sea. Picture those quays and squares a scene of perpetual bustle and excitement, the theatre of an uninterrupted procession of men. On one spot, a group of sailors, loosely dressed in jackets and caps, are quarrelling perhaps about their last wager. Within a stone's throw of the place where these men are standing, is a decently attired female, who is kneeling in an attitude of devotion before an image of the Virgin, enclosed in a recess at the angle of the nearest street. At another point, two persons who, if a judgment may be formed from their exterior, belong to a much higher class of society, are conversing together in a subdued tone. The elder of the two, a Venetian patrician, is drawing the attention of his visitor, a gentleman of Verona, to a large house of the Lombardic type immediately before them on the right hand; there, said the Venetian, had lived in former times a celebrated member of his family, and there was his memory still cherished by his descendants. A little farther onward to the left, he points out a second building of equal pretension, where the existence of a terrible plot, he whispered, had of late been discovered by the Government. After a short pause, the two passengers proceed on their way, warned of the approach of the hour of vespers by the bells of many churches, which are mingling their chimes in the stillness of a summer evening.

A summary of Venetian art, science, and literature, completes the fourth volume. It is brief, but apparently well executed, and not such as to bear being broken up or abridged. We shall now therefore take our leave of Mr. Hazlitt; and, as we have given our readers a sketch of the past of Venice, will conclude this article with a few remarks upon her future.

There is no doubt that when we talk of our neighbours the French going to war for an idea, we intend to express something that we believe to be very silly. But, although it is a tendency of the French mind to attach an importance to the theoretical and speculative aspect of affairs which we are very far from doing in this country, we should remember that, even with them, the "idea" is not invariably genuine. It is sometimes invented and propagated by the leaders of parties to serve a temporary purpose, without being understood or assented to by the masses of the people. The idea of nationality, and likewise the idea of geographical, otherwise called natural, boundaries, which have stood forth so prominently in European history during the last ten years, owe, we suspect, a great deal more to the ambition of

French rulers than to the spontaneous sentiments of the ruled. A nation is an entity which grows together by accidental circumstances, and often finds the influence of long habit and cherished tradition more powerful than any appeals to the eternal fitness of things, or to affinities of race and language. It may be very true that the inhabitants of two provinces, separated by an imaginary line, speak the same tongue, and acknowledge the same common ancestry. Yet centuries of separation will have bred in each of them a body of distinct and peculiar associations, which are not only a second nature, but nature itself. We can no more say at what stage in its career a province becomes a nation, than we can say when a brook becomes a river, a coppice a wood, or a wood a forest. Yet, when once the line has been passed, it is difficult for a nation to repass it, and, having once been an empire, contentedly to become a mere canton. To foreign conquest a nation may submit as an inevitable necessity; but she submits under a tacit protest. She has succumbed to brute force, and has not ceded one fraction of her claim to start again into independent life when the opportunity offers. In this there is no disgrace. States cannot all be equal; and for the weaker one to yield to the stronger, when abandoned by her allies, is no more inglorious than the loss of any other unequal contest. But to sink down voluntarily from a position of ancient glory and political eminence, into the federate member of a parvenu kingdom, is a voluntary abnegation of dignity: a confession of innate inadequacy to sustain the rôle of a great people, which cannot but embitter the satisfaction otherwise experienced at liberation from a foreign yoke. We speak these words advisedly; and we apply them to the general condition of the Italian peninsula, as well as to the particular state of Venice. But they do apply with peculiar force to the present situation of that famous and unfortunate city. As long as she continues under Austrian rule, her degradation is felt to be provisional. It forms part of a system which the growing sense of mankind is learning to condemn ; and it stands in contrast only with her former independent greatness. Shake off the one, and nothing then remains but the other. To escape from Austria is, as things now stand, to reconstitute Venice. As the present Italian

patriots wish things to stand, it would be to annihilate her for ever. Amalgamate Venice with an Italian kingdom, and she sinks down to the level of Apulia or Romagna. But while she remains held down by the bayonets of Austria, silenced, oppressed, and broken-hearted she is still Venice, and may still rise again to bear the banner of St. Mark aloft over subject peoples.

Our readers will see to what these remarks are tending. We do not regard with a favourable eye the contemplated absorption of Venice in the new Italian kingdom. In the preceding remarks we have glanced at the loftier, the broader, and the more purely moral and sentimental aspects of the question. But, if we take it in its practical bearings, the conclusion at which we are pointing will not appear less reasonable. There can be no doubt that the one great obstacle to the final settlement of Italy is the condition of Venice. Italy can never rest without her; Austria cannot safely or honourably relinquish her. To yield up this flourishing province for a sum of money, would so shatter the prestige of Austria in the eyes of all Europe, that we may be certain the young and high-spirited emperor will try every other expedient before he has recourse to that. A war undertaken by united Italy for the recovery of Venice, would be of very doubtful issue; and, even if successful, would, we fear, lead to further difficulties, paving the way for the renewed interference of the greater powers. It is probable that the Venetians would at the present moment purchase their release from Austrian control at any price that was offered them. But then the question arises, how far they would eventually be contented to become the subjects of a king of Piedmont. On this point we own we entertain the very gravest doubts. Europe has yet to test the temper of those Italians, who have no such past to look back upon, beneath the pressure of a foreign yoke. Naples, and Tuscany, and Rome may hail, with shouts of applause, the ally who opens their dungeons and restores their freedom. But, when the first burst of enthusiasm is over, will they easily forget that he is a conqueror? Nations, as we have said, cannot denationalize themselves in a few months. For nearly a thousand years Naples, and Piedmont, and Venice, have been separate nations. To mould them into one would require two

centuries of peace, good government, and perfect freedom fromforeign interference. Englishmen know how long it was before even Scotland, with all these advantages, accepted the imperial yoke without sullen reluctance. Ireland has not done so yet. But Venice at least has greater reason to hug her independence than either Ireland or Scotland. She is the superior, whereas they were the inferiors. Her imperial splendours are coeval with the period when Sicily was overrun by the Normans, and Piedmont had not merged from barbarism. Is it to be expected that › she would so easily forget the glories of the "former Temple,” or acquiesce without a murmur in the irrevocable sacrifice of her brilliant heritage?

We venture, therefore, to propose the restoration of Venetian independence as by far the best solution of the present embarrassments of Italy. The condition of Venice would then cease to be a grievance to Italiaus, and a stumbling-block to the French emperor, at the least possible sacrifice of dignity to the emperor of Austria. In fact, it would be no sacrifice at all: it would be an act of magnanimity that would elicit the sympathies of Europe, and an independent exercise of power that would strengthen his moral influence. We are certain that this measure would be in every way advantageous to Austria; nor can we doubt that it would be equally beneficial to Europe. The consolidation of all Italy into a compact and powerful kingdom is a doubtful issue of the present situation; and, if not doubtful, remote. What wars, and factions, and miseries, may yet be in store for that unhappy country, it is painful to conjecture; but one certain salve to her bleeding wounds would be, the reconstitution of an independent state between central Italy and the Germans. Venice, restored on these terms, would present no temptations to the House of Hapsburg one quarter so strong as she would present if handed over to Victor Emmanuel, whom Austria has such good reasons to hate with an enduring hatred. Venice would then be, in some respects, an Austrian creation, and Austria might be expected to watch over her interests with something of pride and self-complacency. If it be said that Venice could not hold her own; would be too weak, in fact, to preserve the independence conceded to her; we reply, that in

the present state of European opinion such weakness would be her strength. Does Holland or Belgium, does Bavaria or Greece, hold her own in virtue of her intrinsic strength? These countries are interposed between powerful rivals, each of whom knows that the slightest act of aggression on his own part would be the signal for counter interference. To a restored Venice, with a government at once constitutional and aristocratic, and devoting herself with hereditary zeal to the arts of peace and the extension. of commerce, England would stretch a willing hand. Austria would have no reason to be jealous; and France, already perplexed by departure from the treaty of Villafranca, would find herself relieved from difficulties that threaten to be insurmountable.

There is little doubt in our own minds that all parties already regret they did not adhere to the terms of that engagement. The unexpected tenacity of Francis the Second, may ere long create a reaction that will add to the difficulties presented by Rome and Venice. If the Roman Catholics and Republicans unite to oppose the King of Piedmont, his Neapolitan majesty will again become master of the situation: and this, doubtless, is the contingency to which he is looking forward. The effect of his recent manifesto upon the minds of his subjects may be much, little, or nothing. But it is evidently not the language of a man who believes that the game is up. If the coming spring find him still upon Italian soil, he will very soon be fighting with Austrian battalions by his side; and, if a dexterous appeal be made to the jealousy which southern Italians are well known to entertain towards Piedmont, affairs may yet take a turn which will astonish European diplomatists. We only glance at these possibilities for the sake of their general application. Should the scheme of a: United Italy begin at length to appear less plausible, some other settlement of the present state of anarchy must be entertained. For our own parts, and looking merely to the greatest happiness of the greatest number, we believe that the following arrangement would be perhaps as satisfactory as any thing that has yet been proposed. Let the King of Naples be restored under solid guarantees for the better government of his dominions. Let the central duchies be placed under the protectorate of Sardinia, preparatory to their being amalgamated with his dominions at