THE FATE OF CAVOUR. (FROM THE "PRESS.")

Daily Southern Cross, Volume XVII, Issue 1438, 24 September 1861, Page 4

THE FATE OF CAVOUR. ( FROM THE "PRESS.")

Macaulay, in his graphic account of the last hours of William 111., has told us how that great stateaman and warrior, a veteran in both arts, and yet not an old man, longed for a further lease of life, that he might direct the forces of England and uphold the libeihes of Europe in the final strugglethenopemngwith themilitaiy ambition of the Grand Monarque. A sirnilaryeainingmay have filled the breast of the dying Cavour. The kingdom of Italy, the dream of his life, the woik of his hands, had already shaped itself into noble ] ropoitions, but the work was incomplete, and an unskilful hand.in seeking to dome the edifice into symmetry, might spoil all. Venice was still Austrian— Kome wns still dominated by the Papal hierarchy and its French defendeis— Naples still div tiacted by internal feuds, and by a jealousy of the new kingdom of which it must be but a province. An enemy looked across Lombardy fiom the Quadnlateral— an ambitious ally fiovvned upon Italian unification from the Alps of bavoy Benedek and Napoleon, it was hard to say which was the most to be feaied ; and on the other side, Garibaldi and Mazzini, like two curbed wai-horses, were kept in hand only by the strong hand and skilful policy of the great minis tei. Misgivings as to the future were natural— doubtless they were not wifelt in the sick room at Turin Yet the dying minister did not lose faith. " Italy cannot perish i" was murmured oven amidst ths incohererent wandeiings of his fevered brain— and m that hope and faith he died. " Be t tiustful ; all goes well," were his last words. For twelve years that faith in the future of Italy had inspired his whole life; and now that the noble structure of a fieo ,md united Italy needed but the copingslones, he refused to believe that it might yet crumble back into the dust. We bhaie the faith of the dying statesman. If he did not despair of Ins country, no other man need do so The "Brain of Italy," he had centred in himself the entire direction of affairs He alone had held in his skilful hand the numerous tlneads out of which the web of Italian unity was being woven. He alone knew how Pope and Emperor — reactionary Neapolitans and revolutionaiy Hungarians, were to be kept m check, or made to woik together for good to Italy. His colleagues in the ministry were but secretaries : he was the government. Men would have said, and did say, that he was proud beyond endurance, and in hw high opinion of himself undenated all around him. But his, self-appreciation was only just. It did not blind him to the abilities of others, though the pressuie of the times did not permit of his standing .dallying with their less discerning views and more wavering wills The faith in the future of Italy winch comforted his last hours was the noblest of all proofs of his high opinion of the men who had worked with him, and whom he left behind him. He saw a young Italy growing up, imbued with his own ideas, animated by his own aspirations, whose united support would, in the present temper of Europe, render impregnable the position of any mmistei, even of oidinary capacity, and accomplish the completion of the unification of Italy suiely, though it might be slowly, without further need of those bold coups d'etat which he himself had employed with such masterly effect. The public caieei of Count Cavour was, to say the least of it, open at many points to gravest exception ; but his self-sacrificing devotion, and noble services to the cause of Italy, cannot fairly be questioned Whatever weie his faults, he made Italy; and whatever e\ception we may take to some parts of the policy by which he attained this noble object, we feel that humanity itself is outraged by the obloquy which has been invoked to cover his name. Though the dying statesman took the last rites of the church, with all Turin mourning at his doors as they saw the holy piocession enter his house, yet he died excommunicated. He had daied to refoim the abuses of the church in Sardinia ; he was extending the same salutary process all over Italy , he even daied to think that the head of the church was to be veneiated puiely for his spiritual position as the vicar of Christ, and not necessarily as a tempoial soveieign. Foi holding these views, and manfully acting upon them, he died undei the ban of the Papal church. It is a sony reflection that Italy's greatest man and stanchest patriot should thus have been bianded by the powei which fiEb the old seat of Italian empne on the Seven Hills It is a still sadder thing to hear the chorus of blasphemous exultation set up in our own country and elsewhere by the partisans of the Papacy over his grave. To hear them one would think that this was some Annanias struck down in his sins, and that, in the death of Cavour, Providence visibly interposed on behalf of the church, by slaying an archenemy of religion. Such unseemly jubilations tempt one for a moment to doubt if charity be still the clowning grace of the chiistian faith, and to repeat, without hoping for an answer, the old question "What is tiuth'" The consciousness of a noble purpose is often the statesman's only consolation , and when we hear the fieice and merciless denunciation of men against their biother man, we have abundant reason to be thankful that our ultimate lot is not dependent upon the veidict of a juiy of Christian mortals— even if these weie the twelve cardinals of Rome, with the Pope for their foieman. On the day after the death of the great Minister, we aie told that in Tumi theie was but one woid on all lips, " Malheur! MaUveiw '" Yet the Italians have not lost then foihtude under the stroke which has deprived them of then leader, and the new Piemier, in his opening addiess, echoes the confidence which to the last hour animated his piedecessoi, and promises that the policy of Cavour shall still continue to direct the councils of the government. Count Cavour died overtasked by the labour and struggle imposed upon him by the ever lecurrent emeigencics of the crisis which still involves the fortunes of Italy, and it is to be feared that the difficulties to which Ins life was a sacrifice, will not be completely coped with by his less sagacious successois Nevertheless, the very circumstances of his death will procuie for the new Ministry a temporary respite fiom their greatest embairassment. That Cavour was worried to death by the airogant pretensions and double faced policy of his "ally" the Emperor of the French, is on eveiy one's lips. It is the talk of Parisit is the universal thought in Italy. The impiession is so strong, and so damaging to the reputation of the French Emperor, that last week we evpiessed our belief that, in order to overcome it, Napoleon would suddenly change his tactics, and become for the moment as clement to the Court of Turin, as hitherto he has been obstiuctive. The anticipation has already been venfied. The government of the Tuileries is preparing at length to give its tardy lecoqnition to the kingdom of Italy It cannot affoid to bieak with the Italians, and yet a i lpture can only be prevented by proofs and professions of friendship of a less ambiguous kind than those which have for the la&t twelve months proceeded from the Tuileiies Hence, we repeat, the very circumstance which lends a peculiar sadness to the fate of the great Italian Minister will operate in favour of his successors. Profoundly irritated, the Italians will not at present enduie any fuither dictation fiom the Empor of the French, and Napoleon is too sagacious to attempt it Both Garibaldi and Mazzini detest the Emperor who destroyed liberty in his own countiy, and who seeks to make a dependent of theirs. Both are pledged to resist to the death the cession of another inch of Italian soil ; and now that Cavour is gone, there can be no doubt they have the power as well as the will to do so. Let Baron Eicasoli and his colleagues mike the most of the bieathing-tnne permitted to them ; for, we doubt not, befoie the weeds of mourning for Cavour are laid aside, they will find that the policy of the Tuileiies towards Italy has resumed its old character of arrogant obstruction and insidious encroachment.

A SroKK s Doubts about his Wipp. — An English manufactiuer settled somewhere in Zealand amused himself by changing the eggs laid by a stork, who annually built her nest on his house, for those of an owl. In due cour&e of time the eggs were hatched, and he was staitled one morning by a tremendous row going on in the nest of the parent stoiks. The male, an a violent state of excitement, flew lound and round his nest , the female chatteied away, protecting her nestlings under her wings. It was quite evident that the stoik was not satisfied with the produce of his helpmate ; there was something louche about the whole affair ; he would not recognise the offspnng. After a violent dispute, the male flew away, and shoitly leturned, accompanied by two other stoilts, birds of consequence and dignity. They sat themselves on the loof, and listened to the pios and cons of the matter. Mrs Stork was compelled to lise and exhibit her children. " Can they be mine ?" exclaimed the stoik. " Happen what may, I will never lecognise them " On her side Mia. Stoik piotestod and fluttered, and vowed it was all witehciaft — never had stork possessed so faithful a wife before. Alas • alas ■ how seldom the gentle set meet with justice in the woild vthen judged by man, or in this case by stoik-kind. The judges looked wondrous wise, consulted, and then, of a sudden, without pionouncing sentence, regardless of her shrieks for meicy, fell on the injured Mrs. Stork and pecked her to death with their long sharp beaks. As for the young owls they would not defile their beaks by touching them ; so they kicked them out of the nest and they were killed m the tumble. The father stork, quite bioken-hearted, quitted his abode, aid never ag.iin leturned to his foimei building place. Six years have elapsed, and the nest stdl remains empty.— MamjaWs Jutland.