The tremendous cataclysm of the French Revolution produced vibrations and convulsions throughout the civilized world, nor is it a subject of surprise that Italy responded more vehemently than any other country to the voice of France. In its inception, the French Revolution was, undoubtedly, a necessity, and not an evil. Nobody can tax Necker, Mirabeau, and the Girondins with any other desire than the amelioration of France and of humanity. But when, owing to the utter inability of the leading statesmen to control the legislative assemblies they had convened, the direction of affairs slipped out of their hands into those of men to the last degree vindictive and unscrupulous, and when the great movement became stained with crimes so appalling and atrocities so inhuman as to find no parallel in history, it is no wonder that the Sovereigns of Europe combined to stamp out a devastating conflagration. But an event which no sagacity could foresee, destroyed all their plans and made them powerless even in their own dominions. One of the greatest generals the world has ever seen, rose to supreme power in France, and the Sovereigns who hoped to overawe Robespierre had in time to tremble before Napoleon. If, after the Peace of Amiens, the great soldier had known how to moderate his ambition, Europe might have been spared many sorrows and calamities; but unhappily, he did not rest content with the glory he had acquired; he soared in hope to universal dominion, and Europe was convulsed for more than a decade with struggles such as the world has never yet witnessed, and the loss of blood and treasure was immense. At last he was defeated, but not until he had practically defeated himself; for the greatest generals of his opponents were powerless against him for many years, and they only prevailed when he had exhausted the resources at his disposal. He fell from power never to rise again, and the triumphant Allies inaugurated a reaction, the effects of which were felt throughout the Nineteenth Century. The demons returned to their dwellings, and the second habitation was worse than the first. The one great Bastille had indeed been pulled down, but each country had innumerable little Bastilles of its own. Austria seized Venice and recovered Lombardy, and the mild and philanthropic rule of Firmian was replaced by the iron despotism of Metternich. In Naples the philanthropy of Filangieri had to make way for the ferocity of Bomba. But the nations had tasted liberty, and the old spirit of submission, more or less unwilling, had died out for ever. Secret societies sprang up all over the Peninsula, and the Carbonari continued what the Philosophers had begun. The old clemency of Joseph II and Leopold II was replaced by angry suspicion and ruthless severity. Men of stainless character were suspected of disaffection and subjected to rigours which should be reserved only for the worst of criminals. Shameless