defiance of decency and justice, by the assembled sovereigns who so ruthlessly trampled upon both. It was Europe who wrongfully and cruelly consigned her to a yoke she abhorred, and against which she earnestly protested, and has never ceased to protest: it is for Europe to undo that wrong. As far as morality and equity are concerned, the case seems clear and cogent enough. But the difficulty lies in the comparative antiquity of the injustice done; for it is obvious that if we allow any antecedent foreign intervention to justify intervention on the other side now, there is an end of our principle altogether as a practical guide. In international, as in municipal law, there must be a statute of limitations,-some date beyond which titles, however scandalous or full of flaws, are not to be disturbed. It may, no doubt, be argued on behalf of Venice, that it was only the interference of Russia to save and aid Austria in 1849 that enabled that power to defeat Piedmont, and so to recover Lombardy and Venice; and that this interference has, therefore, yet to be atoned for and countervailed in Italy as well as in Hungary. And the argument is, if not perfectly irrefragable, at least so weighty that an English diplomatist, inclined to defend Victor Emanuel for what-defensible or indefensible-is certain to be done, would do well to rest his justification on this ground. It is lamentable to reflect that if England, in conjunction with France, whose coöperation might then have been attained, had only had a clear enough view of what policy and justice alike dictated to forbid the interference of Russia in the Hungarian revolution, all these perplexing problems might have been avoided, and two sanguinary wars, with their terrible fields of Sebastopol and Solferino, might have been spared to Europe, as well as ten years redeemed out of the struggling and suffering lifetime of the world.

The ill-assorted and convulsed empire of Austria is not the only obstacle to the attainment of that state of stable equilibrium which Europe craves, and which is the price and condition of her tranquillity. Turkey is a problem equally menacing and less easy of solution. From that instability of which Austria is the centre and the cause, there are two practicable issues, attainable to-morrow if it should so please Francis Joseph and his advisers. She may, by the surrender of Venetia on equitable terms, relieve herself of a dependency which has long been to her a source of material weakness, of moral obloquy, and of military danger; she may liberate 200,000 of her best troops for defensive action in other quarters; she may convert a cause of expense into a cause of revenue; she may secure at once the cordial friendship of the English nation as well as of the English government, and ultimately, when the soreness consequent upon long irritation shall have died out, the frank alliance of Italy itself. At the

same time, by honestly and sincerely abandoning the struggle with Hungary, accepting the ancient constitution of that country and leaving its amendment in the hands of the people themselves, she may once more reconcile them to her sceptre, and unite them to the amalgamated portion of her empire. They will be sturdy, free-spoken, and somewhat troublesome subjects; but, on the other hand, they will again become, as they have been heretofore, incomparably the most reliable portion of her military strength, to say nothing of material resources. Thus relieved and thus fortified, Austria, for all avowable and valuable purposes, would be more powerful than ever. Or there is another solution, less easy and demanding more time for its accomplishAustria, unable either to reconcile Hungary or to conquer it, might allow the Magyars, as well as the Venetians, to separate and form more natural connexions further east, and might concentrate her efforts upon becoming the nucleus and the head of a really powerful and united German empire, a combination that, if once fairly and soundly carried into effect, would create a central European state irresistible for conservative ends. A united Austria or a united Germany would, either of them, supply that element in the balance of power which our statesmen desiderate so much.

But the future of Turkey is far more perplexing; and any arrangement of it, consistent at once with safety, permanence, and the clear principles of political morality, does not, we confess, present itself to our minds. The Ottoman race is scanty in proportion to the number of its subjects, and, in Europe especially, is still dwindling away. In spite of some excellent qualities, it is inherently, and by virtue of its religion also, an unprogressive race. It reigns not over one conquered people, but over several, some of which are superior to itself in energy, in skill, in capacity for improvement-in fact, in all the qualifications for advanced civilisation. It is surrounded by covetous enemies, and it has at least one powerful, intractable, and semiindependent vassal; its hold over many of its provinces is feeble, and its government in all parts is corrupt and weak in the extreme. It has already lost one considerable portion of its dominions, and has often been in imminent peril of losing more. For a long period the Ottoman Empire has owed its continued existence (as a European Power, at all events), not to its own means of resisting either external or internal foes, but to the mutual jealousy of England, Russia, France, and Austria, who keep the decrepit state alive because they cannot agree what to do upon its death. It is obvious, therefore, that Turkey presents one of those instances spoken of above, of artificial and unnatural political arrangements, which can only be upheld by

force, and therefore ought not, prima facie, to be upheld at all. Left to herself, dissolution in some form, by internal confusion or by foreign conquest, must be her speedy fate. What, then, should be done? If we stand aside altogether and let matters take their course, Russia would seize the best portion of the European territory, and France the best portion of the Asiatic, and England would only be withheld by moral considerations from claiming her share of the spoil. If we adhere to the strict prin ciple of non-intervention ourselves and enforce it upon others, the almost certain issue would be an independent and a weak Egypt, Syria convulsed and perhaps deluged in blood, and the Roumelian and Albanian provinces rendered a scene of confusion and anarchy which would seriously endanger the tranquillity of the adjacent countries. This state of things assuredly would not, and perhaps ought not, to be long endured by the more settled Powers of Europe; yet to interfere authoritatively and effectually would almost be to take the government of Turkey into their own hands; and if they are to govern it they might as well pos sess it. On the whole, the only conclusion which is clear to our minds is, that our former errors in this matter have entailed upon us a plentiful harvest of coming difficulties, much peril, and perhaps even some inevitable wrong.

The tendency of the age is, then, as we have shown, towards the production of a state of stable equilibrium; and as this tendency is just and wholesome, we hold it to be ultimately irresistible. Those who comprehend it and aid it will, on its rising wave, ride into influence and empire. Those who ignore it and fight against it will be baffled, and may be crushed. Now, to seize the living conception of the age-to speak its thought, to understand its need, to help it to express itself, and act itself out, as it were-is the true work of a practical statesman. To do this, whether in literature or in politics, is to become popular and powerful. We are disposed to believe that Louis Napoleon has grasped this conception: we are quite sure that our ministers have not. The Emperor of the French has the establishment of his dynasty more at heart than any other object. He sees that, though he himself may be able to maintain his position, his son could not retain the sceptre for a year, unless Europe were settled and at rest. That settlement and rest he seeks in that condition of stable equilibrium in which alone it can be found. He wishes to leave behind him no open questions to distract and endanger his successor. He labours, therefore-fitfully, irregularly, and tortuously, no doubt-to restore the violated affinities, and liberate the compressed democracies of Europe; to break the galling fetters that cannot always be

endured; to set free the upheaving aspirations that must have vent. He thinks that it is only the crushing of the popular will that makes it dangerous-that it is only the outrages inflicted on the sentiment of nationality that makes it insurgent. He saw that France would have glory and democracy: he gave her the one, and wields the other. He saw that Italy would have unity and freedom: and he interfered to help her, and has done so even more effectually than he designed. He sees that Hungary will have administrative independence, and we expect that, when the time comes, he will aid her cause; believing that when Hungary is reconciled and Venetia sold or lost, Austria will be, not crushed, but tranquil. What further conclusions he may draw from the conception which he has grasped, we will not attempt to predict.

ART. II.-MEDIEVAL ENGLISH LITERATURE:
PIERS PLOUGHMAN.

The Vision and Creed of Piers Ploughman. Edited from a contemporary Manuscript, with an Historical Introduction, Notes, and a Glossary, by Thomas Wright, M.A., F.S.A., &c. In two volumes. Second and revised edition. Russell Smith.

THE revival of modern taste for olden literature (if the taste ever really ceased) is a curious subject, and worthy of more attention than it has yet received, or can now be given to it here. It is a general opinion in this country, that the appearance of Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, in 1765, first directed the public mind to our old writers. But it may be doubted whether this conclusion does not confound cause with effect, attributing a change in the national taste to the influence of a single volume, whereas the change had probably been growing for some years. What Percy unquestionably did, was to eschew the solemn tediousness and minute trifling of the mere archæologists, and to bring an elegant literature and an agreeable criticism to the illustration of antiquarian subjects, thus appealing to a larger number of readers. But he was too immediately followed by labourers of a similar class to justify the ascription of the entire results to his example. In 1774, Warton produced the first volume of his History of English Poetry. In the following year, Tyrwhitt

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began the publication of his learned and elaborate edition of Chaucer. Ritson, though he died in 1803, was young enough to have been influenced by the publication of the Reliques, had he not been "an original" in every sense of the word. He can scarcely be called elegant or agreeable either as a writer or a man; but his industry, acuteness, and causticity almost forced attention to a subject of which he treated. These, however, are only leading names. From before the publication of Percy up to the close of the last century, various collections, or historical sketches, of our old poetry appeared, indicative of the current of the public mind. Dodsley and Hawkins sent forth Old Plays; the Maitland Collection of Ancient Scottish Poems, and Pinkerton's Scottish Poems, reprinted from scarce editions, appeared; Alexander Campbell produced his Introduction to the History of Scottish Poetry from the Thirteenth Century, and George Ellis his Specimens of the Early English Poets. These, and others of a like kind, might seldom possess the elegance of Percy, though they were often more accurate. But while they aided in promoting an archæological taste, they also proved its direction. For though enthusiasts may publish books at a loss, or even a publisher may now and then commit such a mistake, a class of works for which there is no demand will soon cease to be brought out.

But the taste for olden literature did not terminate in the republication of old books. So strong an interest was excited towards our literary antiquities, that a Record Commission was appointed about the close of the last century. This body lasted nearly forty years, under various formal reconstitutions; doing little compared with its means and opportunities, and grossly neglecting its duties in many things. At last public opinion, gradually roused by the pertinacious attacks of the late Sir Harris Nicolas and others in exposing the insufficiency and jobbery of these Commissions, caused the dissolution of the Sixth Commission. This was soon after followed by the inauguration of the new system under the auspices of the late Lord Langdale, continued by the present Sir John Romilly. The change was a very great improvement. A stop was put to the careless or wanton destruction of the Records; steps were taken to collect them into one national depository, under one uniform control,, instead of allowing them to be scattered through the country, often in careless or indifferent custody. Our public muniments have now been classified and reduced to order, and made readily accessible to the inquirer,-a most important point. The publication department is perhaps not altogether so great an improvement upon the old commissions as its friends believe, except in greater activity and regularity.