conclusion. On Saturday the great battle was not only greatly fought, but greatly won. Garibaldi was a great General. Dobbs had put his visa on him. It was all right until Garibaldi’s first reverse, when his English friend would have turned upon him, and denounced him as an impostor. Yes, Garibaldi had proved to Dobbs’s satisfaction that he could set a squadron in the field; but let him still beware of statesmanship.
Well—well, Arthur Wellesley, after his Peninsula and Waterloo, was dubbed by the late Daniel O’Connell a “stunted corporal,” but he survived it. On Sunday poor Garibaldi had committed a great error, he had thrown himself into the arms of Mazzini, or Mazzini had thrown himself into his arms—in point of fact, something was wrong about the embraces; and Dobbs, admitting all the while that Garibaldi had about him the makings of a great general, was more and more convinced that as a statesman he was weak, shallow, and incompetent. On Monday it turned out that Garibaldi, who had had some small business on hand (while Dobbs was dining out in London), such as meeting a regular army with his hasty levies, coming to an understanding with the Sardinian Government, maintaining the requisite attitude against Lamoricière, whilst Lamoricière still existed as a political and military entity, had really not done so very badly. He had had a very difficult game to play at Naples whilst engaged with the enemy in front, and had only spare minutes to play it in. He had, however, contrived to keep now one ball, now another, in the air until the moment had arrived for decisive action; when, lo! he was found to have done the very thing which Dobbs himself had pointed out as the only proper course—namely, handed the southern portion of the Italian peninsula and the island of Sicily, which by his wisdom and his courage he had all but purged of the Bourbons and their adherents, over to Victor Emmanuel. True to the declaration of the last ten years of his life Garibaldi still believed that the best chances of independence and safety for his country lay in the union of all the provinces under one sceptre. Dobbs withdrew the epithet of Massaniello—and was appeased.
Has not this been the tone of a certain portion of English society towards Garibaldi during the last few months? No great harm is intended, but the habit of English political life is to drag down all men to the intellectual level of the speakers or writers. They weigh them in their own scales, and measure them with their own rules. On the whole, it is well. They have more to learn from Garibaldi, than Garibaldi from them—and they will accept the teaching in the long run. Have we not lived through a period when the present premier of England was known as “Cupid,” and the mere mention of his name provoked a smile or a sneer? Now, the reason why this mention has been made of Garibaldi is, that although very wise people tell us that the day of hero-worship is gone by for ever, it would appear that just now the whole action of Europe turns upon the decisions of half-a-dozen men, and Garibaldi is one of them. Indeed, until he had announced his positive decision of handing over the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies at once to Victor Emmanuel he may be said to have been the foremost amongst these marking men. What has he been about last week? To relate what these half-dozen men have been doing for the last seven days, would be the shortest method of giving a true chronicle of the week.
Just now Garibaldi has taken Capua. In Southern Italy his task is well-nigh completed. It is said that when this is fairly accomplished, he will return to his little island of Caserta, and put off dignity—at least as much of it as beadles would care about—more easily than he put it on. There are not wanting rumours that when the Italian matter is finished, he meditates an expedition into Hungary. The notice of this movement, indicated to the troops under General Türr’s orders, seems ominous enough—and yet one should guess, that if the disaffection amongst the Hungarian soldiers in the Austrian service be as profound as it is said to be, both the Hungarian and the Italian question will receive a more pacific solution. The theory of the financial men is, that Austria is at the present moment prepared to bargain away and sell Venetia for a suitable consideration. The Austrian authorities appear to be shooting the Hungarian gunners at Venice for spiking the guns which they should turn against Cæsar’s foes.
This preliminary matter of Garibaldi’s once disposed of, Europe falls back into its normal state—which state now appears to be one of dependence upon the resolutions to be adopted by the French Emperor. Now, what is this man about?—he who wears the shoes of stillness, and who bears the sword of sharpness, like the hero of the Fairy Tale! To be sure, last week, he has been drafting a few more battalions to Rome, and has managed matters so effectually, that if it were thought desirable to dislodge them from that illustrious city of ruins and recollections, the task would not be a very easy one. This, however, has ostensibly been the smallest of what our French neighbours call the Imperial pre-occupations during the last week. Louis Napoleon, during that brief section of time, has had the good sense to close with Mr. Whitworth. He has put our own tardy government to shame, and secured for himself means of offence and defence superior to our own. Besides this, Louis Napoleon has thrown himself into the theory of the currency, and is about to appear before the eyes of Europe as the great Banker of the world. If the intelligence be true—and it appears to be true—and if the announcement is not a mere blind—a golden shield held before the breasts of his soldiers—it is well. Europe, just now, has more to gain from peace than from war.
But if Louis Napoleon takes to banking in good earnest, Lord Overstone had best look to himself. The pound sterling—that Fetish of the “well regulated” English mind—is in imminent danger. Beware the Ides of March—or rather, the Second of December! Our ledgers are exposed to a coup-d’état. The financial may be more potent than the military arm after all; and the French Emperor, who seems to have given up the idea of attempting a disembarkation upon our coasts, may