men, whose reputation was that of being liberal.  One part of the nation lived on from day to day without any stirring passion, in entire passiveness; the other believed in gradual improvement and progress, because it had confidence in the watchful care of partizan leaders.  The combat of Parliamentary eloquence was considered to be a storm in a glass of water, and the highest aspiration of parties was to oust the ministry and take their place.  And yet the prohibition of a public banquet blew asunder the whole complex like mere chaff.

Germany was tranquil, because the honest pretensions of the ambition of her statesmen were satisfied by the open lists of parliamentary eloquence.  The public life of the nation had gained a field for itself in Legislative debates—­a benefit not enjoyed for centuries.  The professors being transferred to the legislative floor, and the college to the parliament, the nation was gratified by improvements in the laws, and by the oratory of her renowned men, who never failed to flatter the national vanity.  It believed itself to be really in full speed of greatness, and listened contented and quiet—­like an intelligent audience to an interesting lecture—­even in respect to the unity of great Germany.  The custom-association (Zollverein) became an idol of satisfied national vanity, and of cheerful hopes; science and art were growing fast; speculative researches of political economy met an open field in social life; men conscious of higher aims wandered afar into new homes, despairing to find a field of action in their native land.  Material improvement was the ruling word, and the lofty spirit of freedom was blighted by the contact of small interests.

And yet a prohibited banquet at Paris shook the very foundation of this artificial tranquillity, and the princely thrones of Germany trembled before the rising spirit of freedom, though it was groping in darkness, because unconscious of its aim.

Italy—­fair, unfortunate Italy—­looking into the mirror of its ancient glory, heaved with gloomy grief; but the sky of the heaven was as clear and blue above, as it ever was since creation’s dawn:  and it sung like the bird in a cage placed upon a bough of the blooming orange tree.  And then Pius IX, placing himself at the head of Italian regeneration, became popular as no man in Rome since Rienzi’s time, In 1848 men heard with surprise, on the coast of the Adriatic, my name coupled in vivas with the name of Pius IX.  But the sarcasm of Madame De Stael—­that in Italy men became women—­was still believed true; so that too many of the Italians themselves despaired of conquering Austria without Charles Albert.

Austria had not for centuries, and Prussia never yet has, experienced what sort of a thing a revolution is, and the falling of the vault of the sky would have been considered less improbable than a popular revolution in Berlin or Vienna, where Metternich ruled in triumphant proud security.