In answer to Lord Malmesbury, who reiterated the question originally put by Lord Stanley, “Is the fleet of Admiral Parker to interfere with any expedition which his Neapolitan Majesty may send against his subjects in Sicily?” Lord Lansdowne distinctly refused explanation. So did Lord Palmerston in answer to Mr D’Israeli; and he further added, “that it is not the practice of the government of this country to announce to parliament what the intentions of the government are.” All that we shall say upon that point is, that, even during the present session of parliament, ministers have more than once been particularly eager to parade their intentions, without even the formality of a question. Such answers are very apt to make distrustful people recollect that Naples is but a small state, and not so formidable as some others which have led the van of revolution. But even supposing that the Whig government are not prepared to go the length of violating treaties, and breaking alliances by a direct and forcible interference, this concealment is peculiarly unwise at a moment when neutrality is of the last importance. Apart from this question of Sicilian interference, no one wants to know why Admiral Parker’s fleet is there. It is not alone Lord Stanley or Mr D’Israeli whose curiosity requires to be gratified. The King of Naples believes this armament is sent with intentions hostile to him, and he has a right to know whether Britain proposes to throw an impediment betwixt him and his revolted dominions. Are ministers aware of the effect which such ambiguous answers may have upon the future policy of France? General Oudinot, we know, is at the head of a large army on the southern frontier of France, and Charles Albert has notoriously solicited assistance from that quarter. What if the French, drawing their own deduction from the fact of the fleet being there, and all explanation refused, should choose to assume that we have exceeded the bounds of neutrality, and are now coercing the King of Naples?—what if they should march an army to the support of the Piedmontese, again make Lombardy a field of battle, and throw all Europe into irretrievable confusion, by engaging in hostilities with Austria? Is that contingency so remote that we can afford to indulge in mysteries, and peril the fair fame of England’s open dealing for a paltry Palmerston intrigue?