He knew Rome; he had lived there.  He knew, from personal experience, in what the Papal government differed from good governments.  His natural sense of justice urged him to give the subjects of the Holy Father, in exchange for the political autonomy of which he robbed them, all the civil liberties and all the inoffensive rights enjoyed in civilized States.

On the 18th of August, 1849, he addressed to M. Edgar Ney a letter, which was, in point of fact, a memorandum addressed to the Pope. AMNESTY, SECULARIZATION, THE CODE NAPOLEON, A LIBERAL GOVERNMENT:  these were the gifts he promised to the Romans in exchange for the Republic, and demanded of the Pope in return for a crown.  This programme contained, in half-a-dozen words, a great lesson to the sovereign, and a great consolation to the people.

But it is easier to introduce a Breguet spring into a watch made when Henri IV. was king, than a single reform into the old pontifical machine.  The letter of the 18th of August was received by the friends of the Pope as an “insult to his rights, good sense, justice, and majesty!"[13] Pius IX. took offence at it; the Cardinals made a joke of it.  This determination, this prudence, this justice, on the part of a man who held them all in his hand, appeared to them immeasurably comical.  They still laugh at it.  Don’t name M. Edgar Ney before them, or you’ll make them laugh till their sides ache.

The Emperor of Austria never committed the indiscretion of writing such a letter as that of the 18th of August.  The fact is, the Austrian policy in Italy differs materially from ours.

France is a body very solid, very compact, very firm, very united, which has no fear of being encroached upon, and no desire to encroach on others.  Her political frontiers are nearly her natural limits; she has little or nothing to conquer from her neighbours.  She can, therefore, interfere in the events of Europe for purely moral interests, without views of conquest being attributed to her.  One or two of her leaders have suffered themselves to be carried somewhat too far by the spirit of adventure; the nation has never had, what may be called, geographical ambition.  France does not disdain to conquer the world by the dispersion of her ideas, but she desires nothing more.  That which constitutes the beauty of our history, to those who take an elevated view of it, is the twofold object, pursued simultaneously by the Sovereign and the nation, of concentrating France, and spreading French ideas.

The old Austrian diplomacy has been, for the last six hundred years, incessantly occupied in stitching together bits of material, without ever having been able to make a coat.  It does not consider either the colour or the quality of the cloth, but always keeps the needle going.  The thread it uses is often white, and it not infrequently breaks—­when away goes the new patch!  Then another has to be found.