Alexandrian patriots determined, that Count Santa Rosa, accompanied by Lesio and Colegno, should repair to Turin. They arrived on the 21st, and immediately craved an audience of the Prince, who declined the interview, on pretence of illness. He immediately, however, appointed Santa Rosa Minister of War. But this step was ta ken only to cover his real design. At the beginning of the following night, he collected all the cavalry that were attached to the royal cause, and set out secretly for Novara. He reached it in safety, and proceeded to the Austrian camp, where Count Bubna received him politely, yet scarcely making a secret of his contempt. He is reported to have said to his army, in the Prince's hearing, "See the King of Italy!" The Prince went on to Modena, the residence of Charles Felix; but he had already offended beyond forgiveness that lofty assertor of absolute power, who refused to see him. The unfortunate Prince, overwhelmed with universal contempt, went to hide his shame at Florence.

The revolution, which had stood so many terrible shocks, seemed about to sink under this. Even its boldest de fenders formed the design of abandoning Turin, and retiring to Alexandria, as the last citadel of liberty. At this moment, however, news arrived that the Queen's regiment of dragoons had quitted the camp at Novara, and joined the constitutional cause. Emboldened by this event, Santa Rosa seized the floating reins of government, and published a proclamation, in which he announced, and excused, as far as possible, by reason of youth and evil counsel, the departure of the Regent. The King, a prisoner in the hands of Austria, could not be considered as the author of any proclamation that might appear with his name attached to it. In these terrible circumstances, he, legitimately appointed War Minister, felt it his duty to call

on his companions in arms. He could point out only one means of deliverance, it was, to rally round their colours, to seize them, and fly to plant them on the banks of the Tesino and the Po. He encouraged them to hope for the aid of France, and of all Eu rope, in so heroic an effort.

This bold step electrified the Piedmontese, and, in the absence of any other power, commanded general obedience. Fresh encouragement was derived from events which took place at Genoa. The revolution there had been effected in a manner remarkably tranquil, under the auspices of Desgeneys, the governor. Desgeneys, however, on learning the proclamation of Charles Felix, and the flight of the Prince of Carignan, determined to restore the ancient regime, which, from the tranquil deportment of the Genoese, he hoped to effect without difficulty. On the 21st, therefore, he issued a procla mation, declaring illegal all that had taken place, and commanding the citizens to submit to the orders of Charles Felix. Upon this announcement, large assemblages took place, and considerable discontent was manifested by the populace. The following day, they took a still more formidable attitude; and, the military shewing a manifest reluctance to act against them, affairs remained during the day in a state of alarm and uncertainty. On the 23d, the multitude carried all before them; they burst into the governor's palace, and would have sacrificed him to their fury, had he not been saved by some young men of the popular party, who conveyed him to a place of safety. A junto was immediately installed, and the constitutional system restored.

Santa Rosa, meantime, shewed himself determined to be no longer accused of taking timid or indecisive measures. Everything possible was done to infuse activity into the system of government. All the troops in the

kingdom were ordered to march upon Alexandria, with the view of carrying the war beyond the Tesino. They obeyed with tolerable alacrity; and the cause of revolution seemed beginning to present a fairer prospect, when it was struck by its final and fatal blow. Tidings were received of the sudden and total cessation of Neapolitan resistance. From that moment hope expired in the breasts of all but the most sanguine. Every one, of whom inte rest was the ruling motive, hastened to make their peace, by a timely desertion to the cause of which they fore. saw the triumph. Several of the military chiefs in whom most confidence had been placed, repaired to Novara, and joined their troops to those of La Tour, whose detachment soon swelled to a little army.

In this extremity, an overture was made, which it might have been wise and fortunate in the Piedmontese to have accepted. The Count de Mo. cenigo, Russian ambassador at Turin, made proposals to Dalpozzo, and to Marentini, president of the junto, from himself, indeed, but with a pretty con fident assurance that they would be supported by Alexander. In case of submission, he held out that the Austrians would not enter Piedmont ; that a general amnesty would be extended to all who had been concerned in the revolution; and they might even hope for "a statute that might guarantee the interests of society," in plain terms, for some kind of constitution.

In the desperate circumstances of the nation, the minister and the junto made no hesitation in accepting the above offer. They signed a declaration to that effect, insisting particularly upon the importance of the statute. Santa Rosa was not insensible of the expediency of this step, and gave a passive consent; but he declined affixing his signature, fearful that it would commit him with the chiefs at Alexandria,

which was still considered as the focus of revolution. Accordingly, these rash young men loudly protested against any agreement which should admit an abatement of the strict articles of the Spanish constitution. Santa Rosa, yielding to theirs his own better judg ment, determined to make a trial, by arms, to retrieve the sinking cause. Having collected all the disposable troops, which did not exceed 6000, he marched against Novara. He was aware that La Tour was now at the head of upwards of 7000; but he entertained sanguine hopes that they would not fight against their coun trymen, and that there might be even a general desertion to his side, which would place him again in an imposing situation. La Tour, besides, had commenced offensive operations, had crossed the Sesia, established himself at Vercelli, and pushed his advanced posts towards Turin.

It was on the morning of the 8th April that the constitutional troops, under Colonel Regis, presented themselves beneath the walls of Novara. Their instructions were, to avoid, if possible, coming to action with their countrymen; merely to shew themselves, and to receive the first fire without returning it. Scarcely had the army begun to file beneath the ramparts, when they were saluted with a brisk fire; but, to their utter amaze. ment and dismay, it was from Austrians. La Tour, dreading the effect of his troops being brought into contact with their countrymen, had invited over the Austrians, who, in the course of the preceding night, crossed the Tesino, and reached Novara at two in the morning. The constitutional troops were now exposed to too fearful an odds to leave any hope in the continuance of the contest. They began their retreat, which they continued in good order as far as the Bridge of Agagna; but, being to pass there through a nar

row defile, repeated charges of cavalry threw the rear-guard into confusion. The disorder was soon communicated to the rest of an army composed partly of new levies; and, before reaching Vercelli, the whole was in a state of almost total dispersion. The catastrophe of the Piedmontese army was less dishonourable than that of the Neapolitan, but it was equally complete.

When these fatal tidings arrived at Turin, Santa Rosa gave up all hopes of maintaining that city, which contained numerous votaries of the old system. Hopes were, however, entertained of making a stand at Alexandria and at Genoa, both which places had displayed much revolutionary energy; but, all the royalists now declaring themselves, and the well affected shrinking from the support of a hopeless cause, and of sieges without the chance of relief, such plans were found to be abortive. All except the most marked chiefs hastened to make their submission; these, in their extremity, were hospitably sheltered by the Genoese, and provided with the means of retreat into Spain. Austrian troops occupied Alexandria, Voghera, Tortona, Casal, Vercelli, and Novara. Turin and Genoa, occupied by native royalist troops, were spared the humiliation of their presence.

Charles Felix had thus the throne open to him, but he declined to occupy it, still continuing to invite his brother to resume the reins of government. Victor Emmanuel, a mild and easy prince, shrunk from the idea of reascending the throne in such painful circumstances. On the 19th April he

confirmed, by a new deed, his act of abdication. Charles Felix then took up the reins of government, though he did not quit Modena till the month of October. From every feature of the Prince's conduct, the unfortunate Piedmontese had reason to expect whatever was most hostile to their liberties. This expectation was not disappointed. A commission was immediately named to prosecute, with the greatest rigour, all who had been concerned in leading or promoting the revolution. Santa Rosa, Ansaldi, St Marsan, &c. were executed in effigy, and all their effects sequestrated. The Universities of Turin and Genoa were shut up for the space of a year. Then, indeed, an act of amnesty was published; but there was appended a list of exceptions, which, as it included all who had written, done, or spoken, anything in favour of the revolution, it became a mysterious question what the class of citizens was to whom the amnesty could apply. After all, the main reliance was to be placed on the Austrian bayonet; and, on the 28th October, a treaty was concluded, by which the kingdom was to be occupied by 12,000 men, whose pay and equipment were to be provided for at 300,000 livres a-month; besides which, they were to be supplied with lodging, fire, light, food, and forage. The number of rations issued was to be for 13,000 men, and 4000 horses. The occupation was to continue till September, 1822, when the question of its prolongation was to be decided by a new congress,

WHILE despotism in the centre of Europe was riveting afresh her chains upon mankind, in the east, her long established seat sustained a shock, at once unexpected and terrible. Revolts, and even successful revolts, were nothing new to the Turkish empire; they were of perennial growth. No former one, however, had ever the interests of the people, or the rights of mankind, in any degree for its object. Pachas, who had acquired a footing in the districts intrusted to them, who, by their valour and largesses, had secured the attachment of the army, and inured the people to a habit of obedience, endeavoured to establish, not free and well ordered states, but despotisms more entire and uncontrolled than that exercised by the Sublime Porte itself. These ephemeral dominations, having no root in the popular feeling or interests, vanished whenever the Porte

could play off against them a more popular chieftain, or could bribe the nearest friends or humblest slaves to step in and draw the bow-string round the neck of the usurper. He was usually a fierce and bloody tyrant, from whom the people were happy to be freed; and their transference to a new master was viewed with pleasure, or at least with indifference.

There is scarcely, perhaps, an example of an empire so extensive, so powerful, and so wealthy, as the Turkish, which has admitted so little of any kind of improvement. The Mahometan religion, indeed, as compared at least with the Christian, has everywhere shewn itself hostile to the liberties and improvement of mankind. Yet every other Moslem throne and dynasty had its illumined period. The courts of Bagdad, of Ispahan, of Cordova, and even of Fez, could boast of their ages of classic glory,

and threw in their contributions to the great mass of human intelligence. But the most powerful and the ablest of the Ottoman princes never distinguished themselves as the patrons of any elegant art or pursuit. Their gratifications consisted solely in barbarous pomp and sensual indulgence. In continual intercourse with the most civilized states of Europe, Turkey remained impenetrably shut against their arts and knowledge. She remained still entirely Asia, not refined, polished, and effeminate Asia; but such as that continent presents itself among the predatory hordes who rove over the expanse of its high inland plains. They present still the aspect of a mere camp, covering up and burying all the brightest and most favoured seats of ancient greatness and refinement.

While we thus admit and proclaim the sins of the Ottoman system, our readers must not consider these observations as prefatory to sounding a crusade against it. It is not intended to join with those modern statesmen, who call upon the powers of Europe to arm for the purpose either of annihilating the Turk, or even of driving him beyond the precincts of Europe. We do not think it either desirable or likely that Christianity or civilization should extend their empire by such means. The prevailing impression of the Turkish empire as an edifice which would fall to pieces at the first external shock, is founded perhaps upon very superficial views. Its councils, indeed, compared with those of European cabinets, are now blind and stupid. Its army, though brave, is undisciplined, and cannot cope in the field with that highly effective regular force which follows the Russian standard. Considered as a nation, however, the Turks still retain much of that fierce and warlike energy which distinguished them during

the ages of Mahomet and Solyman. Greece, Syria, and Egypt, were always rather appended conquests, than the main body of their empire. Its integral mass was always situated in Asia Minor and Rumelia, which remain entire portions of it. The whole of this region, comprising a population of ten or twelve millions, may be considered as a huge barbarous camp. All the people are armed, and ready on a call to fly to the field. The call is even welcome to many, particularly to those tribes, which, in the high interior plains of Asia Minor, unite the character of shepherds and robbers, and form a cavalry, which, though unable to stand the shock of regular battle, is equal as light horse to any in the world. These hordes may not hesitate, at the instigation of a favourite chief, to turn their arms against the Sultan, and to seek warlike occupation and plunder in the very bowels of the empire. But a war, which had for its object to impose upon them an European and Christian yoke, would be to them a more than national war. It would be inflamed by the fiercest religious antipathy. Rather than submit to the execrated yoke of the Giaour, they would brave perils to which no na tion was ever impelled by the mere sense of national independence. Russia, besides, has most powerful natu ral barriers to overcome, before she can execute this boasted scheme of seating herself on the throne of Constantinople. She must possess the line of the Danube, guarded by a chain of fortresses, which the Turks have always defended with obstinacy. She must transport not only her army, but her artillery and magazines, across the cliffs and eternal snows of Haemus and Rhodope. She would find it, we are convinced, a worse undertaking than the conquest of Spain was found by Buonaparte. In