We are taught by the scribes of absolutism to speak of the Italians as if they were a nation of cowards, and we forget that the most renowned masters of the science of war, the greatest generals up to our day, were Italians,—­Piccolomini, Montecucculi, Farnese, Eugene of Savoy, Spinola, and Bonaparte—­a galaxy of names whose glory is dimmed only by the reflection that none of them fought for his own country.  As often as the spirit of liberty awoke in Italy, the servile forces of Germany, of Spain, and of France poured into the country, and extinguished the glowing spark in the blood of the people, lest it should once more illumine the dark night of Europe.  Frederic Barbarossa destroyed Milan to its foundations, when it attempted to resist his imperial encroachments by the league of independent cities; and led the plough over the smoking ruins.  Charles the Fifth had to gather all his powers around him to subdue Florence, when it declared itself a democratic republic.  Napoleon extinguished the last remnants of republican self-government by crushing the republics of Venice, Genoa, Lucca, Ragusa, and left only, to ridicule republicanism, the commonwealth of San Marino untouched.  The Holy Alliance parted the spoils of Napoleon, riveted afresh the iron fetters which enslave Italy, and forged new spiritual fetters; prevented the extension of education, and destroyed the press, in order that the Italians should not remember their past.

Every page, glorious in their history for twenty-five centuries, is connected with the independence of Italy; every stain upon their honour is connected with foreign rule.  And the burning minds of the Italians, though all spiritual food is denied to them, cannot be taught not to remember their past glory and their present degradation.  Every stone speaks of the ancient glory; every Austrian policeman, every French soldier, of the present degradation.  The tyrants have no power to unmake history, and to silence the feelings of the nation.  And amongst all the feelings powerful to stir up the activity of mankind, there is none more penetrating than unmerited degradation, which impels us to redeem our lost honour.  What is it therefore that keeps those petty tyrants of Italy, who are jealous of one another, on their tottering thrones, divided as they are among themselves, whilst the revolutionizing spirit of liberty unites the people?  It is only the protection of Austria, studding the peninsula with her bayonets and with her spies.  And Austria herself can dare this, only because she relies upon the assistance of Russia.  She can send her armies to Italy, because Russia guards her eastern dominions.  Let Russia stand off, and Austria is unable to keep Italy in bondage; and the Italians, united in the spirit of independence, will easily settle their account with their own weak princes.  Keep off the icy blast which blows from the Russian snows, and the tree of freedom will grow up in the garden of Europe; though cut down by the despots,