bers, the old question of abolishing the debate on the Address has been revived; but we doubt whether any change will be made in this respect. That the debate on the Address is a most cumbrous expedient for giving the members an opportunity of expressing their opinions on the general policy of the Government no one doubts; but the question is, whether the Government would be disposed to go the length of substituting for this system that of permitting members to originate motions as in other constitutional countries. It would undoubtedly be a most impolitic thing, on the one hand, to do away with the debate on the Address altogether, without at the same time giving the deputies a vent for the expression of their political opinions; but, on the other, it is very doubtful whether the Emperor will consent to have his actions criticised with the freedom of a Parliament like that of England, or even of Prussia. The first would be a reactionary measure; the second a very liberal one; and there is no reason, in the present temper of the French Government and nation, to anticipate that the Government will take either one or the other. Nor is this the time for any important changes in the home policy of France. Although every attempt is made by the authorities to suppress any manifestation of discontent on the part of the French people, there exists, both at court and among the nation at large, a feeling of uneasiness and anxiety such as has not been experienced in France for many years. Frenchmen are beginning to admit that Napoleon is fast losing that predominant influence in Continental affairs which before the war in Germany he had possessed without a rival, and that France is no longer secure from any Continental combination that might be attempted against her. We had occasion to point out during the war the singular vacillations of the Imperial policy, and the impression is now gaining ground that it was from beginning to end a mistake; that, in a word, Napoleon was outwitted by Bismarck. It is a significant symptom of this state of public feeling that the report of a Russo-Prussian alliance, which a year ago would have produced but little sensation, has now been greedily taken up by the French public, and has given rise to numberless comments and speculations in the French press. We do not believe that there is any foundation for this report; but on the other hand, we do not agree with those who rest their disbelief of it on its improbability. It was just because the French perceived the event to be so probable that they were filled with alarm at its presumable consequences, without stopping to consider whether it had actually occurred. Nothing is more simple or likely than that Russia, who has designs in the East, and none in Germany, should seek an alliance with Prussia, who has designs in Germany, but not in the East. There is no reason why the interests of the two Powers, under present circumstances, should clash, for Prussia dreams as little of seizing the Baltic provinces from Russia as she does of seizing Alsatia from France, or as Russia does of seizing Posen from Prussia. It is true that Prince Charles of Roumania, with whose ambitious projects a movement on the part of Russia towards Constantinople would probably interfere, is a relative of the King of Prussia; but we have yet to learn, with the experience of the Danish and German wars fresh in our memories, that the ties of kindred between sovereigns prevent their opposing each other when such a course is commended by their interest or ambition. We think, therefore, that a Russo-Prussian alliance, although it has probably not been actually concluded, is quite within the range

of possibility; and believing this, we cannot but acknowledge that the alarm of the French press was only natural. It is quite certain, in the present temper of the nation, that France would oppose any further aggrandisement of Prussia, even at the cost of a war; while Prussia, if strengthened by the support of Russia, might afford to face such a contingency without fear.

Another point, which creates even more profound, if not such general, discontent in France is the policy of the Emperor in the Roman question. People -and especially official people-are never tired of declaring that both Italy and France will fulfil the September Convention to the letter, forgetting that it is at present a secret known to very few persons what that Convention really is. Every one knows that it binds the Emperor to withdraw his troops from Rome by the 15th of December, and that it binds Italy to prevent any revolutionary expeditions from being organised on her territory with the object of overthrowing the Papal power; but many believe that it goes farther than this; that it contains stipulations in view of certain eventualities which it is easy to foresee. What will happen after the departure of the French troops? Will the Pope reconcile himself with Italy, or, in other words, give up the temporal sovereignty which he has always declared it is not in his power to alienate? Will there be a successful revolution at Rome, and if so, what will the Pope do? Will he remain in the holy city, thereby yielding to violence what he has hitherto refused to peaceful negotiation, or will he seek a refuge abroad, and protest against the unrightful seizure of the succession of St. Peter? It is impossible to answer these questions so long as we are uncertain about the conduct in these contingencies of the French and Italian Governments. As regards the latter, however, there can be little doubt. It will do its utmost, in the first place, to bring about a reconciliation with the Pope, which is by far the best and most convenient solution of the question for the Government at Florence, whose sympathies are naturally with those who desire the overthrow of the Papal power, while its engagements to France forbid its sanctioning any attempt to attain that object--and, failing in this, it will remain a passive observer of events in the Papal territories until the Pope's sovereignty has been overthrown by his own subjects, when it will naturally lapse to Victor Emmanuel. It is highly improbable that there are any stipulations in the convention which could bind Italy to pursue any other course. It would certainly not compel her to assist the Romans, and if there are any provisions binding the Italian Government to support the Pope against his subjects, we may be assured that there would be a revolution in Italy if it attempted to carry them out. With regard to France, the case is not so clear. We have already mentioned the discontent which prevails in certain very influential sections of the French population on account of the supposed determination of the Emperor to withdraw his protection permanently from the Holy Father. This discontent has manifested itself in a very prominent manner, not only in the pastorals of some of the French Archbishops, but even in the councils of the Emperor, where the Empress and M. de Lavalette are known to be using every effort so to shape the French policy in regard to Rome as to secure the maintenance of the temporal power. What are the combinations which they strive to produce with this object is not accurately known, but it is not forgotten that in the famous circular which was issued shortly after the withdrawal of M. Drouyn de Lhuys from the Foreign

Office, such an object was plainly hinted at as one of the aims of the foreign policy of France, and many believe that the French troops will leave Rome only to return to it after the first disturbance that occurs in the holy city, If some step of this kind has been provided for in the September Convention, it can only be inferred that the Emperor wishes to evade the engagement into which he entered two years ago, and that the clerical party at court therefore move heaven and earth to hold him to it. This is of course only speculation; but so is everything connected with the Roman question, which is far from being so simple as some of our optimist politicians are endeavouring to make it appear. The only fact which is at present certainly known in connection with it is that the French will leave Rome on the 15th of December. Beyond this all is darkness. They may not go farther than Civita Vecchia, which France has spent so much money to fortify; they may go to France, and return soon after; such a step may force the Italian Government, acting under the pressure of an irresistible national will, to oppose the continuance of the French occupation, and thereby expose Europe to a war of which it is impossible to see the end. We will hope that none of these things will come to pass, but it is idle to deny that the question is beset with difficulties of a most formidable kind, and that there is very little chance of its being settled amicably between the Pope and Victor Emmanuel, for the indispensable prelude to such a settlement is the renunciation by his Holiness of that non possumus principle to which he adheres with the obstinate earnestness of a religious conviction.

In Mexico, if there is still much uncertainty as to the future of the country, the task of the French Government is now simple and comparatively easy. The Emperor Napoleon has for some time perceived the mistake he has made in endeavouring to establish, in spite of the unwillingness of his subjects, a French protectorate in the new world, and his withdrawal from a position which had become untenable has been greatly facilitated by the abdication of Maximilian. Nothing now remains for France but to remove her troops, and the transports destined for that purpose are already being fitted out in the French ports. The protectorate of Mexico will now be assumed by America, which is beyond a doubt the Power that is most fitted to exercise that very necessary office. The crisis through which they are now passing will, we think, have no permanent effect on the future of the United States; and, so long as they remain united, there need be no fear of a renewal of the attempt to establish European influence in Mexico.

Nov. 28.

FAREWELL CAUSERIE.

As this is the last number of the REVIEW which will appear under my editorship, I wish, in saying farewell to friendly readers who have shown much sympathy with a novel and difficult undertaking, to thank the many and admirable contributors, for the most part strangers to me, whose labours have given the REVIEW its eminent position, That we have been enabled to bring together men so various in opinion and so distinguished in power, has been mainly owing to the principle adopted of allowing each writer perfect freedom; which could only have been allowed under the condition of personal responsibility. The question of signing articles had long been debated; it has now been tested. The arguments in favour of it were mainly of a moral order; the arguments against it, while admitting the morality, mainly asserted its inexpediency. The question of expediency has, I venture to say, been materially enlightened by the success of the REVIEW. Some few writers have been unwilling to aid us, because unwilling to sign their contributions; but many and valuable contributions have been secured which would never have been secured except under this condition of isolated responsibility. Had the REVIEW done nothing else than give a practical illustration of the perfect feasibility of a plan which literary morality demanded, it would have amply repaid the labour and anxiety of establishing it; and I am expressing the views of many serious minds who look on periodical literature as a great civilising influence very much in need of vigilant control, especially in the direction of earnestness and responsibility, when I say that the first condition of all writing is sincerity, and that one means of securing sincerity is to insist on personal responsibility. Unhappily neither that nor any other condition will prevent men writing what they do not think, pretending to believe what they really disbelieve, pretending to know what they are secretly conscious of not knowing. But it is a check.

Although it is not my intention here to argue this often-mooted question of expediency, I cannot refrain from pointing to the fact that this resistance to the avowal of authorship in periodicals, is accompanied by an insistance on the right of the public to know the authorship of Books, which is to say the least somewhat contradictory. Men who aver that if journalists were to avow their contributions all effective journalism would be at an end, men who claim anonymity as a right and a protection, no sooner have their interest aroused by a Book than they treat the writer's desire for anonymity as a preposterous claim. With a reckless indelicacy, which is seldom recognised as an indelicacy, these anonymous writers, who protest against not being permitted to wear a mask, will allow no author to wear a mask-beyond the pale of journalism. With persistent curiosity they seek to discover the secret, and having discovered it, they are eager to disclose it; so eager, that they will not even wait to ascertain whether their discovery is true or imaginary, but will publish a rumour as confidently as a fact.

As a matter of right, privacy should be sacred, unless where moral considerations intervene. Whatever may be the reasons, whether of prudence or personal

reserve, which make a writer disinclined to avow his authorship, or to blazon his real name on a title-page, readers have clearly no right to trespass on his privacy, to penetrate the secrecy so obviously desired, and to shout their discovery-or their suspicion-from the house-tops; unless the name and position of the writer are in some way directly implicated in the matter of the work: as for example in personal statements, or in criticism. If a man attacks another man, or praises him, if he attacks or eulogises a government, or a party, it may make a considerable difference in the effect of his words when we know that he is a rival, a tool, a discharged servant, or a favoured servant. But if he writes a novel, a play, a work of science or of philosophy, his personal position is in nowise implicated; and we have no right to call upon him to avow his authorship, since the avowal can only gratify our curiosity, it cannot alter the value of his conceptions. When Jane Eyre, Shirley, and Villette were signed "Currer Bell," they were just as true and as effective as if they had been signed Charlotte Brontë. For reasons of her own, Miss Brontë chose to be known only as "Currer Bell." This privacy was denied her by men who were daily, weekly, and monthly shielding themselves under the anonymous. She persisted in signing her books "Currer Bell;" they persisted in speaking of her as Miss Brontë; and no one protested against the indelicacy. It was the same with the "Vestiges." It has recently been the same with "Ecce Homo." Although the theological and philosophical uproar excited by the "Vestiges" proved that it would have been personally injurious to its author to be known; and although to some extent the author of "Ecce Homo" might desire to avoid the odium theologicum likely to fall on the writer of the "vilest work ever vomited from hell," yet journalists not only disregarded such obvious considerations, they recklessly published mere rumours and suspicions as if these were facts, and told their readers with triumph that the authorship had been traced to ---first one, and then the other innocent person.

I wonder whether those who are so careless of the feelings of others would be patient under similar treatment. It is probable that if B had written some bitter criticism on an author, or some fierce diatribe against a politician, and that if all the journals of the kingdom were to publish the fact of his being the writer, B would feel deeply aggrieved by this disregard of etiquette. It is also probable that if B's article were publicly attributed to A, the wrath of A would overflow in indignant letters to the editor. Yet B has no scruple in disclosing the authorship of an anonymous work; A has none in disclosing a rumour as to this authorship. If Johnson wishes to be known to the public only as Publicola, B insists on calling Publicola Johnson, while A informs us that he has "confidently traced" Publicola to Smith. Meanwhile A and B are to have their own privacy respected.

The

Students of History well know the difficulty of fixing on a date which shall mark a new epoch. The evolutions are so silent, stealthy, and continuous that the movements of the great horologe of Time are inferred, not seen. hours are marked, but the continuity has been undisturbed. Hence it is that contemporaries seldom recognise the significance of events. The noisiest currents are not the deepest and broadest, but they attract most attention by reason of their noise. A study of history will, however, disclose to the philosophic eye certain characteristics which give significance to phenomena seemingly unim