It is a fitting time to commence a Journal of current history, when a new and most eventful chapter is to be recorded, which will soon need a new map of the world to illustrate it. A glance at the past history and present attitude of the nations which are placed in the foreground of the impending struggle, may prove to many of our readers a useful introduction to the records which succeeding months may furnish. We are placed, in the providence of God, in a position whence, "Through the loop-holes of retreat, we may see the great Babel and not feel the crowd:" but we ought not to be unconcerned spectators. Apart from all views of the course or close of the events that are about to transpire to which our views of the prophetic Scriptures may incline us, we cannot be indifferent to the issue of a struggle in which those who are bound to us by the closest ties of blood and interest are involved. On the broadest grounds of a common humanity, the unsheathed sword, anywhere, may well stir all our sensibilities. But a general review of the state of affairs in Europe will, moreover, satisfy both the apathetic and sanguine that a crisis for mankind is approaching; the civilisation of the age is, imperilled, and consequences most extensive and lasting must result to the whole race. All this will be apparent to the eye of a man who looks no farther than temporal relations, and who brings to the contemplation of the subject no other lights than history and common observation supply. To the Christian, who takes heed to the light which shines more brightly than ever in that dark place—who looks on the strife with feelings chastened and sanctified by divine truth—and who looks to its issues in their spiritual and eternal relations, we would be disposed to speak in a different tone than we shall use in this article. For the present we desire to exhibit the plain and obvious aspects of the case, as these may be seen from the level of ordinary intelligence.

Ten or twelve years ago, he would have been regarded as no vain dreamer who had ventured the opinion that war, among the civilised nations of the earth, could never occur. It seemed then as if even self-interest forbade it everywhere; the blessing of peace seemed so attractive, against the dark background of history—a history of tears and blood. We were, also, vainglorious of the advances we had made, not only in prosperity, but in civilisation, during thirty years of peace; the diffusion of knowledge, and, as some of us thought, the diffusion of Christianity—all these, backed up by the bitter experience and the weighty consequences of the martial achievements of a departing generation, seemed to render it incredible that men could ever again be so wicked, or so infatuated. We supposed that we saw the enterprise of commerce and the benevolence of Christianity weaving a silken network of fraternity, which would embrace mankind. And how is it today? The topic that first presents itself, almost to the exclusion of every other, is war! not threatened, but actual war; not limited and local, but war which threatens to involve the whole civilisation of the old world. Even then, a man who sat above the mists of popular sympathy—who knew men and history—who understand the truth of international relations and policy, and the actual condition of some of the nations of Europe and Asia, might have anticipated their present commotion. For it grows out of no recent impulses, nor does it spring from any root that was then latent. With our sagacity prompted by the event, we can all see very plainly that the war which is now inevitable, however diplomacy may procrastinate or temporary concessions seem to avert it, is the natural outgrowth of the moral character, the historical antecedents, the cherished policy, the geographical position and the social necessities of the nations which are mainly concerned in it.

In order to a proper understanding of the present state of affairs, and to a correct appreciation of the journal of coming events, let our readers lay before them a map of the world, and make themselves familiar with the territory, boundaries and relative position of the principal nations of Europe and Asia. It will well repay a few hours’ attentive study, to those who would be intelligent observers of the great events that are about to transpire. And, first—

Observe the extent and position of Russia. Its immense territory stretches across the northern portion of the map, from the Frozen Ocean, extending its southern line between the Black Sea and the Caspian, to the borders of Persia. It stretches along the whole of the eastern frontier of Europe, till it is met by Turkey, which cuts it off from the approach to the Mediterranean. The surface of Russia is the most level in Europe. And, though we are apt to associate it with the rigor of northern winters, a large portion of it is exceedingly rich and fertile. Its great geographical disadvantage will at once present itself to the eye: with all its extent and resources, it is cut off from the great highway of nations. The Frozen Ocean, which washes it on the north, is impracticable for the purposes of commerce. The Baltic, which it touches on the west, is easily cut off by a hostile fleet, even when freed from the chains of winter. And the Black Sea, which it commands on the south, is yet more easily isolated.

Then observe the position of Turkey. The greatest extent and main strength of that once mighty empire lies on the Asiatic side of the Dardanelles, from which it stretches, bordering with the Mediterranean on one side, and the Black Sea on the other, till it touches the Persian Gulf. It includes the great seats of ancient empire and civilisation. The names of Babylonia, Assyria, Judea, Armenia, and Syria are lost in its ill-cemented sovereignty. Its capital is situated on the European side of the Dardanelles, also the seat of ancient empire, surrounded by a comparatively small territory, but a territory of great importance to the civilised world. It forms the most eastern part of Southern Europe, and is the link which connects Europe with Asia. It also unites the Mediterranean and the Black Sea, and commands the channel of communication between them. On the North it borders with Austria and Russia—its true and reliable barrier being the Danube with its fortified banks, though the tributary provinces, which we now hear spoken of as "the Principalities," lie beyond the Danube, and extend the Turkish frontier to the Pruth and the Carpathian Mountains. We need not dwell, either, on the natural and historical grandeur of the whole region over which Turkish dominion extends, or on the desolation and degradation to which Ottoman misrule has reduced it.

Besides examining the geographical position of the nations immediately interested in the present conflict, it will be necessary to glance also at the position of the great and inexhaustible sources of wealth generally included in "British India." In every age, India has been the peculiar seat of Oriental pomp and commerce. It has been the grand prize before the eyes of the conquerors of the world; and the nation that has, for the time being, held the key of it, has always occupied the first place among commercial nations.

Let us now glance for a moment at the history of the two empires which are in the foreground of the impending conflict. The Turks originated in the lofty central regions of Tartary, and were a hardy, athletic and courageous race. Having, in the tenth century, subdued their more immediate neighbours, they poured down into Persia; thence they crossed the Euphrates, and extended their conquests till the whole of Western Asia acknowledged their fierce control. The European nations, in the ardour of the Crusades, at length successfully assailed their power from the west; while the Mongols, following in their own footsteps, attacked them from the east. At the end of the thirteenth century, their once proud dynasties were scattered and broken.

In the commencement of the fourteenth century, Othman, who appeared first as a Scythian chief, turned the fortunes of his race, and laid the foundation of the Ottoman empire. His successors advanced their conquests in Asia, till at last they passed the Dardanelles. In 1453 Constantinople fell into the hands of Mahomet II, under whom the empire was raised to its greatest height. The great seats of ancient dominion in Asia, of which we have spoken, owned the Turkish sway. They subdued Egypt, the Barbary States and the Arabian shores of the Red Sea. In Europe, they established their arms in the Crimea and the countries along the Danube, overran Hungary, and laid siege to Vienna. Prosperity, as is frequently the case, was fatal to their power. Enervated by luxury, and relaxing their discipline, they were easily repulsed by neighbouring European nations. The development of Russian energies and resources presented an effectual check on their advancement. Under the joint influence of unprincipled tyranny and debasing fanaticism, the ancient grandeur of their Asiatic possessions was soon humbled in the dust. "I have visited," says Volney, "the places which were the theatre of so much splendour, and have seen only solitude and desolation. I have sought the ancient nations, and their works; but I have seen only a trace like that the foot of the passenger leaves in the dust. The temples are crumbled down—the palaces are overthrown—the ports are filled up—the cities are destroyed; and the earth, stripped of its inhabitants, is only a desolate place of tombs." It is long since Turkey existed except by sufferance, or under the protection of powerful nations, who are jealous of each other, in the prospective division of the spoils. It is true that the father of the present Sultan addressed himself with vigour to arrest the decline of the empire, and instituted various reforms which the present Sultan endeavours to prosecute. Some writers speak of a fresh spirit pervading her institutions, and allege that Russia urges on her aggression with the knowledge that the improvements now in progress would soon place Turkey above her reach. But after all, the most flattering accounts of her growing strength scarcely affect the settled conviction of those best qualified to judge, that Ottoman dominion, having waxed old and decayed, is ready to vanish away.

Let us in like manner glance at the history and progress of Russia. The proper seat of the Russian Empire is the somewhat indefinite region mentioned in Scripture as Gog and Magog, and known in Greek and Roman history as Scythia. Over the Sclavonic and Finnish tribes who inhabited the northern part of this region, Rurik, a Scandinavian adventurer, established his dominion, and thus, in the ninth century, established the Russian empire. Ere the close of that century, the Russians had so far extended their conquests over the Sclavonic race as to make their way to the walls of Constantinople, then the metropolis of the Greek empire. * The following century witnessed their successful inroads upon the countries bordering on the Black Sea. They were then, as now, pressing down from the frozen north upon the sunny south. In the close of the tenth century, Vladimir, the reigning monarch, embraced Christianity of the Greek Church, which he established throughout his dominions. At his death, his dominions were divided among his sons; and though disorders, consequent on division and subdivision, were occasionally mitigated by the valour or policy of the reigning Grand Duke, the strength of the empire was gradually exhausted, till, in the thirteenth century, the Mongols ravaged the country, and the princes of Russia became vassals of the Khan.

* Gibbon, c. LV., after recording the earlier Russian attempts on the Greek Empire, says: "By the vulgar of every rank, it was asserted and believed, that an equestrian statue, in the square of Taurus, was secretly inscribed with a prophecy that the Russians, in the last days, should become masters of Constantinople." And he adds, with a characteristic sneer: "Perhaps the present generation may yet behold the accomplishment of the prediction; a rare prediction, of which the style is unambiguous, and the date unquestionable."

Under the Mongols, the Dukes of Moscow gradually acquired a complete ascendancy over the other princes. At last, they rose to a sufficient power to throw off the foreign yoke; and under the name of Muscovy, the monarchy entered a new career, in the fifteenth century. Though the Czars were masters of territory equal in extent to the Roman Empire, the Russians continued a nation of barbarians, until Peter the Great—two centuries later—by the most extraordinary energy and patriotism, raised his people to a place among the civilised nations of Europe. Since that time Russia has been steadily advancing in influence, importance, and extent of territory. Under Catherine, the conquest of the Crimea, the defeat of the Turks and the dismemberment of Poland, not only shed lustre on her arms, but vastly increased her power. The conflict of Russia with Napoleon determined her prominent position; and she now takes the rank of a first-rate military power.

It may have been observed, that the Muscovite Empire entered upon its new career about the time that the Ottoman Empire had reached the zenith of its glory. Moscow escaped from the Tartar supremacy, about the same time that Constantinople became the stronghold of the Sultan. It was not long before the advancing power of the one sovereignty began to tread upon the waning glory of the other. Six centuries before this, the northern races betrayed a consciousness of their "manifest destiny;" and now, occasions were continually occurring to turn their thoughts and their arms towards Constantinople. These occasions and their results, we need not now detail; suffice it to quote the words of a shrewd observer of the state of affairs in the close of the last century: —"The Ottoman Empire becomes from this day a kind of Russian province, whence the court of St. Petersburg may draw troops and money; and finally, Russia will be henceforward able to dictate to the Sultan; and as she has means of compelling him to yield, she may, perhaps, rest satisfied for some years to come, by reigning in his name, until she thinks that the favourable moment is come to take complete possession of his dominions."

For that favourable moment she still waits—again and again it has seemed to have arrived; and only the jealousy of other powers has delayed the stroke. Nor, in the advancing course of human affairs, can that design ever be abandoned unless Russia should cease to be Russia. The possession of Constantinople by any power with vigour and resources enough to improve its advantages is, in the language of Napoleon. "the empire of the world." It is this that prolongs the occupation of it by a feeble and dependent power, so long as there is no one nation strong enough to snatch the prize in the face of all the rest, and thus proclaim itself their master. The hope of winning such a prize might be temptation enough to a better prince than the Emperor of Russia. But besides the ambitious hope of sovereignty, which may be common to Nicholas and other powers, he receives that purpose as an ancestral bequest, enforced by all the wisdom and valour that has gone before him. We have seen how, even from the days of Rurik, a thousand years ago, these northern barbarians have been learning the way of that city, and the possession of it has been kept in view in all the negotiations and in the conflicts. Napoleon, speaking at St. Helena of the interview at Tilsit, says: "All the Emperor Alexander’s thoughts are directed to the conquest of Turkey. We have had many discussions about it. At first I was pleased with his proposals, because I thought it would enlighten the world to drive these brutes, the Turks, out of Europe. But when I reflected upon its consequences, and saw what a tremendous weight of power it would give to Russia, on account of the number of Greeks in the Turkish dominions, who would naturally join the Russians, I refused to consent to it, especially as Alexander wanted to get Constantinople, which I would not allow, as it would destroy the equilibrium of power in Europe."

Disappointed for the time, it was only to resume the course of encroachments towards this goal, till, in 1829, the Russians arrived at Adrianople with a conquering army, when a treaty was concluded, in which, though trifling territorial concessions were demanded from Turkey, the Emperor obtained the fortresses on the eastern shore of the Black Sea, the virtual control of the Danube, and other advantages important to his ultimate projects. A Russian statesman writes of this campaign, in 1830: "It depended upon our own armies to march on Constantinople, and to overthrow the Turkish empire; but the Emperor was of opinion that this monarchy, reduced to exist only under the protection of Russia, and made to obey no other wishes than hers, suited better our political and commercial interests." Here is a purpose steadily followed up, and, if from time to time deferred, it is only that its final execution may be more certain and complete.

Count V. Krasinski remarks, in the preface to his "Sclavonia:" "No one who is in the least conversant with the political state of Europe will suppose for a moment that the check which Russia has received in her threatening aggression upon Turkey, by the energetic conduct of the British and French Governments, will make her desist from her projects of aggrandisement, which have become a political instinct, not only of her Cabinet, but also of her subjects."

When we look to the history of the world, this steady purpose assumes almost the appearance of a natural law. "In every age," says Gibbon, "the Scythians and Tartars have been renowned for their invincible courage and rapid conquests. The thrones of Asia have been repeatedly overthrown by the Shepherds of the north, and their arms have spread terror and devastation over the most fertile and warlike countries of Europe." On the other hand, it may be noticed that the wealth and luxury of the South, which has thus become the prize of Northern valour, are the sure means of exhausting the energies which won them, and the conquerors at last have fallen an easy prey into the hands of future invaders. The Turks, as they crouch before the threatening arms of Russia, are thus only about to become victims in their turn to the very law which placed them where they are. While human nature is what it is, we need not be amazed if a people, susceptible only of animal enjoyment, should seek, as by instinct, to exchange the frozen marshes of St. Petersburg for the fertile shores of the Bosphorus.

So far as a loftier ambition and the lust of power can influence men, never could a people be stimulated by a more tempting prey than that which presents itself to the Russians in the conquest of Turkey. "When Constantinople," says the statesman already quoted, "has been once conquered, terror and the assistance of the schismatic Christians of Turkey may subject, without much trouble, to the Russian sceptre the Archipelago, the coasts of Asia Minor, and the whole of Greece to the shores of the Adriatic. Then the possession of these lands so much favoured by nature, and with which no other country in the world can vie in respect to the fertility and richness of the soil, will raise Russia to a height of power surpassing the most fabulous accounts of the greatness of ancient empires." To say nothing of personal ambition, even patriotism, according to the world’s corrupt estimate of it, forbids any ruler of Russia to be indifferent to such a prospect of national aggrandisement.

Besides the prospect of positive gain and glory in the conquest, we must not overlook the disadvantages of the present geographical limits of the empire, from which the expanding energies of Russia must seek to escape. Recall the effects already stated regarding that position, and then consider a gigantic power so cramped and confined; consider how this grand defect of the Russian empire must cripple her, either in peace or war, and it would rather be mysterious if she were content to sit down satisfied with her place. If she is to remedy it, in what direction can she look save to Turkey? Who else will give her room?

Besides the rich prize which she would find in Turkey itself, the wealth of the Indies invites her avarice and ambition alike. As we have already hinted, a glance at the map will show that she can entertain no project of Indian conquest until Turkey is hers. But the possession of that country will at once enable her to interrupt and embarrass the whole system of our Eastern commerce, and to disturb the administration of our Eastern affairs; and ultimately it would secure her the possessions which we could no longer profitably occupy or successfully defend.

We have, in all this, made no account of the alleged religious motives of the present movement. The pretence, either of veneration for the Holy Places or a paternal concern for the security and rights of Christians under Moslem power, is too shallow to merit a discussion. The name of Christianity is never more outraged than when it is invoked by the butchers of mankind, made the watchword of political factions, or the rallying-cry of invading armies. The Christianity of Russian manifestoes is a puerile superstition, having less claim to human respect than the austere fanaticism of the Mussulman. A foregoing article furnishes important and reliable information regarding its doctrinal aspect; and we shall lay before our readers, in a future number, it ecclesiastical and practical aspects, which will more fully corroborate our present remarks. But though religion does not enter into the motives of Russia in urging on the crisis, or of Turkey in resisting the invasion, it will exercise great influence on the conflict. The appeal to it will influence the passions of the combatants and the masses of their countrymen. The Russian clergy are already alive to the prospect of extended influence to their Church. And one of the greatest perplexities of the Porte is the fact that a large portion of the inhabitants of Turkey in Europe belong to the Greek Church, and may be tempted to join with the invaders against their Moslem rulers. From the time that the Grand Dukes embraced a nominal Christianity, they have used it as a political engine. Latterly, the Emperors have relied on it as a means of uniting the races embraced by the empire, and also of extending their dominions. In the testament of Peter the Great we find the following advice to his successor: "The Greeks (i.e. the members of the Greek Church) in Hungary, Turkey, and Southern Poland, now divided into parties, must be rallied around Russia as a central point. Russia must be their support, and, by means of a certain ecclesiastical supremacy, prepare the way for complete sovereignty." The zeal of the Czar to protect Christians in Turkey is but obedience to this charge of his great and sagacious ancestor. Turkey and her protectors well understand his policy, though it is impossible, at present, to tell how far he has succeeded in gaining the confidence of these Christians. It is not improbable that his emissaries have successively tampered with their loyalty, and that he reckons upon a movement among them in his favour, so soon as his forces are at hand to sustain and improve it.

We might now inquire into the resources of Russia for the prosecution of her design, and the ability of Turkey to resist it. Much has been said and written on these points within the last few months; but it is difficult to arrive at any accurate conclusion. It may safely be said of either, that the grossest corruptions disgrace the administration of government, and that the masses of the governed are debased, benighted, and, of course, enslaved. But, after all that is said of the poverty of the Russian exchequer, the discontents of the Russian nobility, and the misery of Russian soldiers, every one remains convinced that Russia is an enormous power, with resources undeveloped. And, after all that has been said of Turkish reforms, every one believes that Turkey is a decaying state, distracted by rival factions and races, worn out by excess, and sinking into a hopeless senility. No one doubts what would be the issue if these two were left to fight their own battle. Defeat will only exercise the former for future achievements. Present victory will only exhaust the latter for future overthrow.

The battle which is to be fought on the Danube is not, in reality, between the Czar and the Sultan. Turkey has long existed only by the protection, and for the purposes, of the Western powers. And the true contest is between Russia and these powers, for the supremacy of the world. We need not dwell upon the large interest which these powers have, individually and collectively, in the issue. Only think of the consequences, if the Russian Empire should cut the old world in two, by extending its unbroken line from the Frozen Ocean along the whole eastern frontier of Europe, the eastern shores of the Mediterranean, and the Red Sea to the Indian Ocean; and should gather, to the support of its brute force, acting from points of such advantage, all the resources of such a region. It is not English losses in the East, or French losses on the Mediterranean, nor here and there the sacrifice of some commercial post and political influence that are to be reckoned; the truth is, that when the Russian empire is established in Constantinople, civilisation lies prostrate beneath barbarian feet, religious and civil liberty are matters of history, and the ancient crowns of Europe become, in fact, if not in name, vassals of the Czar. The true greatness of the peril was felt by Napoleon when, anticipating its approach, he foretold that if ever France and England were sincerely and closely united, it would avert this catastrophe.

We can look upon such consequences as these without apprehension, perhaps, when we consider that they depend not on Turkish imbecility, but on the united power and prowess of Europe. And had there been nothing else to calculate but the power of Russia matched against the united forces of the civilised world, few words would have been necessary to conduct us to the grand victory of "the world in 1854." But Russia is not infatuated enough to throw down the gauntlet at a time when the question would be of so simple solution. And reluctance and forbearance on the one side, speak as plainly as arrogance on the other, of less obvious sources of danger than the mere might of a northern army. Gibbon, in his Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, after having traced the decay and overthrow of the Western Empire, and the deluge of Europe by Northern Barbarians, pauses to inquire whether Europe is still threatened with a repetition of the same calamities which formerly oppressed the arms and institutions of Rome. He finds a comfortable assurance in the thought, that such formidable emigrations can no longer issue from the North—that from the Gulf of Finland to the Eastern Ocean, Russia now assumes the form of a powerful and civilised empire—that Europe is now occupied by powerful and independent states—that the science and arts of war are advanced—and, as a last solace, he cherishes the confidence that modern civilisation cannot be obliterated. The considerations he suggests may warrant the assurance that the danger will not assume the same form or prosecute the same course as before. But from beyond the Rhine and the Danube there is an enemy menacing, not Turkey alone, but Europe, with a desolating war, which may, after all, be little less terrible than the incursion of Barbarians.

The public press, like our every-day conversation, is very apt to lead us astray as to the actual state of the world, by occupying attention with the latest and most exciting topic. For the past month or two, the Eastern question has overshadowed every thing, and the state of European nations has been lost sight of. But the victims of oppression do not cease to groan because no one heeds their cry—the leaders of the popular cause do not cease to plot because the eyes of the world are turned the other way—wrongs are not righted because they are neglected—and grievances are not redressed by mere indifference. Italy is not reconciled to degradation and foreign bayonets, because the Sultan has declared war with Russia. The skirmishes on the Danube do not soothe the deep wounds of Hungary, or change German Democracy into loyalty to Austria. It is all there—the fierce hatred engendered by centuries of wrong, and the settled purpose to be free and to be avenged too; it is all nursed in moody silence—embittered by the treachery which stole away the sweet prize of victory, and galled by the rigour of reactionary despotism. The revolution of 1848 remedied no evil, and healed no wound. It taught no salutary lesson to the oppressors, for they escaped from its consequences by falsehood, and only maintained their fraudulent advantages by the perpetration of greater crimes than ever. It taught the oppressed what they might do if they dared, as it taught them too, what they had to expect from the promises of princes. We conversed some time ago with an accomplished man who was a leader in the revolution in the Grand Duchy of Baden—which, in 1848, drove the Duke from his throne. Arguing with him against the fitness of the masses of Europe either to achieve or maintain their liberties, we referred to the utter failure of the recent revolution as proof. He replied with a fierceness which contrasted the more strikingly with his usually amiable and polished manner: —"Yes, we failed—many of us are exiles, and those we left behind are ground down by a harsher tyranny than ever—but we failed from a cause that will not defeat us again. We trusted the word and honour of tyrants—but in the next revolution a paper constitution will deceive no more: and the only course that is left is the extermination of the race, and to treat royal or aristocratic blood as an unpardonable crime, and let it out wherever it flows—in the veins of man, woman, or child."

This, we fear, is the common sentiment of European republicanism. Despotism—false, cruel, unsparing despotism is a black crime; but the spirit which it has awakened against it in the bosoms of those it has trampled on, is not the holy spirit of freedom. And there it is—it bides its time, and the powers of Europe know it, and the ruling classes know what they have to expect.

England, indeed, does not fear a revolution at home—but England had never more to gain by peace, nor so much to hazard in war. She has every reason to dread the threatened disorganisation of civilised society. It was a time when the close alliance of England and France seemed impossible. We had reason to suppose that France only waited for an opportunity to retrieve the honours lost on the plains of Waterloo. It seems but yesterday, that the English press was discussing the projected invasion of their island by Napoleon III.

It may be asked: But now that France and England appear united and in earnest, and when even Austria maintains her independence, why does the Emperor of Russia only assume a bolder attitude, and improve every parley to make fresh displays of arrogance? Does he believe that he can stand alone against the world? No, but he knows, or fancies he knows, what will follow when the arms of the West are fully occupied in the East. He knows what Kossuth and Mazzini and Gavazzi are preparing for Pope, Emperor, and Princes. He knows the sullen impatience of the masses, which the counsels of their leaders and the arms of their oppressors scarcely restrain. The probability of an outbreak of revolutionary violence which will shake Europe to its centre, enters most distinctly into his calculations in urging on the crisis, and into the calculations of the Western Powers in striving to avert it.

All parties know that the present relations of the rulers and the governed on the continent of Europe cannot be permanent. Cities cannot be held perpetually in a state of siege. Martial law cannot be established as the habitual condition of a country. The rigour of reactionary despotism cannot be endured, and yet despots do not see how it can be relaxed. The rankling injuries of centuries are only irritated, and the hatred of the masses is only embittered by the measures which maintain the appearance of subordination. Many sympathisers with the oppressed say, "Let the hurricane loose! After it will come a clear sky and a smiling landscape." It is easy to invent plausible tropes. But look at the matter of fact. Suppose that the torch of revolution is lighted—that the oppressor and the oppressed have met foot to foot—and that the people have come out of the conflict victorious. Is that all that remains to be accomplished? Are they prepared upon the wreck of thrones, and over the ashes of temples and palaces, to organise, establish, and maintain free institutions? An infuriated mob may be mighty to overthrow every thing that exists, but can they reorganise society from the beginning? What we know of the people and their leaders, and what we have witnessed of their experiments, leave but one answer to these questions. We know what they are, but who can tell what war—above all, civil war—and such a civil war as that must be, will make them? It may make one’s blood curdle to anticipate its horrors; and can it be supposed that nations steeped in ignorance, degraded by oppression, and infuriated against the abused name of religion, will come out of its fierce passions, unbridled license and unsparing butchery, purged and enlightened? "It is no dream of dyspepsia, or threat of a lunatic." It is evident to any one who will open his eyes and look around. There are two fearful alternatives before Europe, equally dark, equally terrible to a true man—Anarchy and Despotism.