easily, as opportunity offers, inflict desperate wounds on us, by running into our harbours and attacking the merchant shipping and the seaport towns.

The physical geography of the two sides of the Channel at once exhibits the cause of this special danger. The great rivers of the northern part of the Continent have their sources in the central mountain-ranges-chiefly in the Alpsand bring down to the shore heaps of material for depositing deltas of mud and sand. The rivers of Britain-those especially of Scotland, and of the south and west coast of England generally enter the sea through rocky inlets, with deep water. On our side of the Channel there are thus many available harbours of refuge, and just so many openings for penetrating the country on mischievous expeditions. At the time of the Paris fortifications, when it was the policy of the Orleanists to show us as much hostility as could be laid out without an actual quarrel, the Prince de Joinville uttered the pamphlet that became for a time the leading excitement of the day on both sides of the Channel. Its title, as printed in England, is, 'On the State of the Naval Strength of France compared with that of England.' It showed, with a sort of stern candour, that any attempt by France to wrest from us the permanent supremacy of the sea must be counted among fallacious projects. But if she could not rule, she could be very mischievous. There is hope in finding that "it is an incontestable fact, that although during twenty years the war of squadron against squadron was almost always against us, the exertions of our privateers were almost ever crowned with success." For the benefit of these privateers and their coadjutors in the small craft of the navy, there is a war

like sermon on the text that "Sir Sidney Smith only required a few hours to occasion an irreparable injury to us at Toulon." The conclusion is a precept to go and do likewise. There are great riches in Britain-riches that can be taken; or, if that is not the fortunate conclusion, can at any rate be destroyed by furtive incursions on her unguarded coast.

The war policy so announced is not noble or dignified. It is equivalent to pointing out a great rich man who is too strong to be openly attacked, but his riches are widely dispersed, and he is careless of their security-here are opportunities for the prowling thief and the housebreaker. The counter-policy resembles the domestic changes that have been made since the days of internal warfare, when each man's house literally required to be his castle. Instead of ramparts, turrets, and men-at-arms, we have the doorchain and bolt, the iron safe, the chubb lock, and the police. Works constructed to aid our navy in the protection of our harbours, coasts, and maritime towns from such attacks, might be small affairs individually, but as large in the aggregate as our liberality or our apprehensions might direct. Each having its own special treasure to protect, and all looking towards an enemy from the sea, we may safely believe that such works would give little if any aid to an invading army on a scale to try the issue of conquest. As to the great inland fortresses, the lesson is, that when an enemy is in a position to besiege them the question of supremacy is settled, and their capture is mere matter of detail.

There is an expressive question, of ancient use in England-"A penny for your thoughts." The penny is symbolical of value, like the "Jenny's bawbee" of the Scottish heiress,

or the "pretty penny" that sometimes makes a dowry in England. The meaning is, that there are the tokens of absorbing thoughts on some matter of deep interest. Now then -a penny for the thoughts of Louis Adolphe Thiers on the whole affair from the beginning. No doubt he can balance the last transactions in a very neat and satisfactory way. He opposed the war, and did his best to save his country from the calamities it was inflicting. But who was the trumpeter who for twenty years blew the war-trumpet? Look at The History of the Consulate and the Empire.' If there is any one who has not read this book, he is in one sense to be envied-a great intellectual luxury awaits him. It is among the most delightful narratives in all literature. It is the work of a practical statesman who knows what he speaks about. It is the fruit of long, patient, laborious investigation, often through hidden recesses open to the author alone; and the whole is poured forth in a fresh, full, transparent narrative, that never stagnates or runs turbid.

This book has aptly been called a historical epic, and the predominant spirit of its stirring song is, that the policy by which France can become a great nation is the policy of war, victory, and domination. If asked whether the pursuit of such a policy would be beneficial for mankind at large, M. Thiers would perhaps make answer, that he is a Frenchman-that the elevation of France is the object of his life-and, that accomplished, he leaves the rest of the world to take care of itself. is thus that he deifies all the steps of that hero who in his better days accomplished the desired triumph. He is found inspiring his proud triumphal spirit into the meanest of his followers; and it is with swelling pride that the historian describes how, after the Peace of Tilsit, the

It

Frenchman might be recognised all over the world by his proud, triumphant deportment. It was transferring to his own distinct and emphatic prose the idea of our poet,— "Pride in each port, defiance in each eye,

I see the lords of humankind pass by." But then throughout he tells, in minute but interesting detail, the precautions taken by the presiding genius to obviate all possibility of the failure of his grand designs. That his successor and imitator failed arose from an obvious reason— France was unprepared. But he— Thiers-had he been at the head, would have left a different story to posterity. It is curious that, buried in an English blue-book, there should be a little morsel of Thiersian autobiography on this point. He had some conversation with an English friend on his preparations for war in 1840, when Britain interfered in the question between Turkey and Egypt. That English friend thought his statements would afford a worthy example to be studied by the Government departments in this country, and so it was printed. It opens with a poor account of subordinate officiality in France: "When I was Minister I used constantly to find my orders forgotten, or neglected, or misinterpreted." Then, as an instance of the calamities that may be incurred by the imbecility of subordinates when there is no commanding genius to cover them, "Buonaparte nearly lost the battle of Marengo by supposing that the Austrians had no bridge over the Bormida. Three generals had assured him that they had carefully examined the river, and that there was none. It turned out that there were two, and our army was surprised." Then for himself, and the lesson taught by such precedents: "When I was preparing for war in 1840, I sat every day for eight hours with the Ministers of War, of

ROME was now in a state of com

plete desolation fire and war, famine and pestilence, tempest and inundation, had ruined and depopulated it. The once splendid and crowded city had shrunken to a village with a handful of inhabitants. The herdsman drove his flock on the Capitol, which had now become the Monte Caprino, the Hill of Goats; or pastured his cattle in the Forum, which had degenerated into the Campo Vaccino, the Field of Cows. There was no pavement anywhere. Cattle and beasts of every kind roamed at will through the dismal and deserted streets. From San Silvestro to the Porta del Popolo, all was either marsh, haunted by flocks of wild duck and overgrown with rustling canes, or garden given over to the rearing of vegetables. The ancient tombs alone were alive, for they were fortresses for the oppression of the people. The stars alone lighted

the streets.

Such was the condition of Rome when Nicholas V. succeeded Eugenius IV. in 1447. As soon as he was elected, he set his hand to the restoration and embellishment of the city. He cleared out the old and ruined houses, and built new ones; opened the Piazza de S. Celso; erected the Church of S. Teodoro, and the palaces of the Conservatori and of Sta Maria Novella; founded the Vatican library; and devoted himself with energy and goodwill to repair the ravages of the preceding years.

But he did not overlook the dangers of war and the necessities of defence. He restored the city walls and gates, erected towers for their defence, and completely fortified Castle St Angelo, enlarging the tower begun by Boniface VIII., planting two new towers on the bridge, and four new ones on the Castle, strengthening it with solid bastions, and adding various rooms to the interior. His reign was short, but it was devoted rather to the arts of peace than of war.

During the interregnum before his election, each of the Roman nobles had sought to impose his rights upon the Roman people; while, in opposition to their claims, the Roman people, convening a council at Ara Coeli, asserted their privilege to govern themselves. Then it was that Stephano Porcari, a noble Roman, but a friend of the people, urged upon them to estab lish their liberty, exhorting them to profit by the occasion, and reclaim their rights with energy. But the life had gone out of the people. They would not listen to him. At a later period, on the occasion of a tumult, he again urged similar counsels, and again failed. He was then exiled. But returning to Rome, and animated by the same spirit, he concerted with his nephew, Battista Sciarra, and together they formed a conspiracy to restore the Republic and the liberty of Rome, in conjunction with a number of able men who shared his views. The Government, however, got wind of it, and