man, except the politician, the innovator, Austria is no harsh stepmother.  But it is obviously clear that the better in other respects the administration of a state it does but foster the more the desire for that political security, which is only found in constitutional freedom:  the reverence paid to personal rights, but begets the passion for political; and under a mild despotism are already half matured the germs of a popular constitution.  But it is still a grave question whether Italy is ripe for self-government—­and whether, were it possible that the Austrian domination could be shaken off—­the very passions so excited, the very bloodshed so poured forth, would not ultimately place the larger portion of Italy under auspices less favourable to the sure growth of freedom, than those which silently brighten under the sway of the German Caesar.

The two kingdoms, at the opposite extremes of Italy, to which circumstance and nature seem to assign the main ascendancy, are Naples and Sardinia.  Looking to the former, it is impossible to discover on the face of the earth a country more adapted for commercial prosperity.  Nature formed it as the garden of Europe, and the mart of the Mediterranean.  Its soil and climate could unite the products of the East with those of the Western hemisphere.  The rich island of Sicily should be the great corn granary of the modern nations as it was of the ancient; the figs, the olives, the oranges, of both the Sicilies, under skilful cultivation, should equal the produce of Spain and the Orient, and the harbours of the kingdom (the keys to three-quarters of the globe) should be crowded with the sails and busy with the life of commerce.  But, in the character of its population, Naples has been invariably in the rear of Italian progress; it caught but partial inspiration from the free Republics, or even the wise Tyrannies, of the Middle Ages; the theatre of frequent revolutions without fruit; and all rational enthusiasm created by that insurrection, which has lately bestowed on Naples the boon of a representative system, cannot but be tempered by the conviction that of all the States in Italy, this is the one which least warrants the belief of permanence to political freedom, or of capacity to retain with vigour what may be seized by passion. (If the Electoral Chamber in the new Neapolitan Constitution, give a fair share of members to the Island of Sicily, it will be rich in the inevitable elements of discord, and nothing save a wisdom and moderation, which cannot soberly be anticipated, can prevent the ultimate separation of the island from the dominion of Naples.  Nature has set the ocean between the two countries—­but differences in character, and degree and quality of civilisation—­national jealousies, historical memories, have trebled the space of the seas that roll between them.—­More easy to unite under one free Parliament, Spain with Flanders; or re-annex to England its old domains of Aquitaine and Normandy—­than to unite in one Council Chamber truly popular, the passions, interests, and prejudices of Sicily and Naples.—­Time will show.)