ing's estimate of the disinterestedness of the hero of her worship. The following lines read awkwardly when tested by the "inexorable logic of facts." "Shout for France and Savoy ! Shout for the council and charge! Shout away by all means, since that is to be the order of the day; but we rather apprehend that there will be slight shouting in Savoy, and none at all in Switzerland, when the French dragoons are marched into the territory. We protest, however, against shouting for the head of Cavour. For heaven's sake let us have no repetition of the guillotine! The eyes of the public are, we should suppose, by this time, pretty well opened to the designs of our magnanimous ally; and we give Lords Palmerston and John Russell joy of the realisation of the extreme confidence which they did not hesitate to express in the single-heartedness, abnegation, and upright motives of the Emperor of the French. Doubtless they also thought that "this miracle made unaware by a rapture of popular air," could not "barter and cheat;" and, as they puzzle over the splendid lucubrations of M. de Thouvenel, they must, unless their nerves are thoroughly hardened, feel a shudder of conscious shame creep through them, for having allowed themselves to be so tremendously victimised and befooled. The French Minister, it would seem, holds the opinion that the chief use of language is to conceal thought, for in his last note, addressed to the British Cabinet by way of justifying the annexation of Savoy, we find the following remarkable passage, which in point of lucidity might compare with any one of Mrs Browning's poems: Solemn acts, freely adhered to, on the termination of a campaign fortunate for our arms, have established in the most irrefragable manner that we had not for object any territorial aggrandisement when circumstances forced us to intervene in the affairs of Italy. If the Imperial Government VOL. LXXXVII.—NO. DXXXIV. has been enabled to foresee, in hypothesis, from which disinterestedness ought not entirely to banish prudence, a situation analogous to that which to-day presents itself, we flatter ourselves not only that we have not sought to bring it about, but that we have, on the contrary, endeavoured, in all conjunctures, to follow the course most fitted to keep it out of the chances of the future." We trust that no official reticence will baulk our desire to see the reply of our sapient Foreign Minister to this bewildering document. So much for "Napoleon III. in Italy." Now let us take a glance at the next poem, called "The Dance." It would seem that on some occasion the ladies of Florence took a whim to have a galoppe in the open air with certain French officers who were "strolling, gazing, judging lightly," and that one lady of distinction "took upon her"-we quote verbatim from Mrs Browning-" to speak nobly from her carriage for the rest : Pray these officers from France to do us honour by dancing with us straightway.'" As a matter of course, the gallant leaders of the Chasseurs d'Afrique consented, whereupon "And they danced there till the blue that overskied us Swooned with passion, though the footing seemed sedate; And the mountains, heaving mighty hearts beside us, That God had spoken somewhere since the morning, That men were somehow brothers, by no platitude, Cried exultant in great wonder and free gratitude." Comment on this, we venture to think, is unnecessary. Criticism, as well as sense, is utterly baffled by such images as the overskying blue swooning with passion, and mountains, heaving mighty hearts, sighing a rapture in a shadow. We can only suppose, with Armado's page, that "most maculate thoughts are masked under such colours." We need not advert to several other pieces, which are utterly devoid of merit, but turn to the last, which is called "A Curse for a Nation." Mrs Browning avers that she heard an angel speak, and he said, Write! "Write a nation's curse for me, And send it over the Western Sea." We are always sorry to be under the necessity of contradicting a lady, but we are decidedly of opinion that no angel desired the gifted authoress to do anything of the kind. The communication came directly from a pernicious little imp who had been turned out of Pandemonium for profanity. Angels, we firmly believe, have a decided objection to all kinds of cursing and swearing; and had Mrs Browning's good angel been beside her when she penned this very objectionable production, we do think he would have entered his most solemn protest against its publica tion. For what nation the curse was intended by the diabolical instigating Balak, we do not clearly understand; but from the mention of the Western Sea, we suppose that it applies to America, though what America has to do with European Congresses or the settlement of the affairs of Italy, we cannot comprehend. We have a strong suspicion, however, that it originally had another application. Be that as it may, Mrs Browning maintains that she was exceedingly unwilling to undertake the part of Balaam, but was over-persuaded by the following conclusive argument: "Weep and write, A curse from the depths of womanhood Is very salt, and bitter, and good." We are glad, however, to be able to state that Mrs Browning does not shine in imprecation. She merely scolds, and that neither forcibly nor coherently, which is a great comfort to us, because we should be sorry to see our poetess transformed into a poissarde. But let us ask Mrs Browning in all seriousness whether she considers it her duty to curse any one? To bless and not to curse is woman's function; and if Mrs Browning, in her calmer moments, will but contrast the spirit which has prompted her to such melancholy aberrations with that which animated Florence Nightingale, she can hardly fail to derive a profitable lesson for the future. We abstain from making any quotation from this preposterous malison, and lay aside the little volume with profound regret that it ever was proffered to the public. THE RULERS OF THE LAND. I. I'm very sorry for the Poor-would ne'er their lot upbraid, But I should not choose to make the POOR the Rulers of the land. II. I'm sorry for the Ignorant, and largely would impart Whatever may inform the head or meliorate the heart : I'd teach them all that they would learn ; to read, to use the pen, My warmest wishes for their good they always may command, III. I prize and love the Working-man; I venerate his toil, But constant labour of the hands encroaches on the head, Nor are they always wise and free who strive for daily bread. I'd praise their virtues, treat their faults with soft and gentle hand, But I would not make the WORKING-MEN the Rulers of the land. IV. Nations have not alone to fear a Despot's dreaded name : OUR worthy friend NAP, as we all of us feel, The freedom of France he devoured at a meal, We thought we had hit on ; No swaddling bands longer its limbs should enwrap; Its freedom to fetter And surrender it bound to our worthy friend NAP. II. Our worthy friend NAP, in commencing his reign, The cost is terrific! "Tis He in our balance-sheet makes such a gap; While the Treaty and Budget I'm glad you don't grudge it Throw a few millions more as a sop to friend NAP. Lest our worthy friend NAP should invade us some day, Is clearly some Quaker) Bids us lie down and sleep in security's lap : It insures good behaviour, For as long as it lasts, in our worthy friend NAP. IV. And in case by mistake a dispute should arise, He removes our malt liquor, And sends us sour claret our courage to sap; While a special condition Secures ammunition In our iron and coal for the use of friend NAP. V. Then perish the land that would stop his advance, Or would seek his ambition by landmarks to bound! And welcome o'er Europe the Empire of France, Though we pay as the price our full Shilling a Pound! With things that commit us, Or with former opinions to give us a slap: One can't be consistent When dates are so distant; So hurrah for the Budget, friend BRIGHT and friend NAP! WHAT WE HAVE DONE FOR THE PRINCES OF INDIA. If there be one thing more clear than another in connection with the history of the great mutiny, which shook the foundations of our Indian Empire to their very centre, it is that the whole structure would have toppled down, but for the support rendered to the British Government by some of the most powerful of the native princes, and for the wise neutrality of others. We have not the least desire to ignore this fact. We know that there is unfortunately a spirit abroad, in some places, which "scorns to be beholden to a black fellow" but, rightly considered, the assistance afforded to us, in the hour of our greatest need, by so large a number of the most influential native states of India, is a fact as honourable to us as to them; and if it were not, history must not suffer it to be obscured by a mist of national self-complacency. ment against the infidel and the usurper, and perhaps even committing him to do it by writing letters to the enemy in his name; emissaries from other princes, bearing alluring promises and exciting appeals; the King's name, ever a tower of strength at such a time, whether arousing Mohammedan sympathies under the mighty imperial title, or exciting Mahratta nationality under the name of Peishwah; and a priesthood ever active in fomenting the animosity of fanaticism against the proselytising Nazarene; these are some of the trials to which the fidelity of every native prince was exposed. If he succumbed to them, no great wonder-no great shame. If he resisted them, surely our English eyes ought to see great merit in the resistance. We look at the matter, of course, from the English point of view. As an abstract question, we do not care to discuss it. If there really had been a grand national cause, and a legitimate object had been aimed at by legitimate means, we could hardly have recognised any fidelity dissociated from the patriotic cause. But, in truth, the idea of patriotism and nationality has never presented itself to us as an element in the discussion. If there was anything of an elementary and intelli For our own parts, we look upon this as a chapter of the great book of the Sepoy-war, not to be written or to be read without pleasure and without pride. We may draw what inferences we like from the fact that so many princes and chiefs lent all their strength to our cause. If they did it out of love, it is a tribute to our justice; if they did it out of fear, it is a tribute to our power. Probably, as with human action generally, there have been mixed motives at the bot-gible character about the whole affair, tom of these displays of fidelity. There is no necessity to inquire too nicely into the origin of the good they did, or the process by which they arrived at its accomplishment. In some cases there may have been an appearance of incertitude and vacillation-of a halt between two opinions. If we take account of this at all, we must take account, also, of the peculiar environments of each chief; of the temptations to which he was subjected; of the dangers to which he was exposed; of the various inducements to join the rebel cause which beset his position. An army on the verge, if not in the actual throes, of rebellion; a ministry tempt ing him with assurances of certain success to join the national move we must regard it as a struggle between order and disorder-between constituted authority and licentious military power-in which the princes of India, for their own sakes, might well have made common cause with the paramount state in defence of their own sovereign rights. But, in truth, the entire movement appears to have been altogether eccentric and exceptional-answering to no fixed laws, presenting no generic features. We know now that it was the wisest, the safest game, to side with the British Government; but this was at one time by no means apparent. Many, indeed, sought present safety in the lap of rebellion, and suffered themselves to be whirled onward to eventual perdition, yielding rather to |