is told, in
explanation, that the Pope is persecuted because he is weak. X,
emboldened by his easy triumph, ridicules the notion of any reforms being
granted by the Papacy, states that what is wanted is a reform in the
Papal subjects, not in the Papal rulers, and finally falls foul of poor
M, in such language as this:--"What good can we ever expect from this
race of Moderates, who in all revolutions are sent out as pioneers, who
have ruined every state in turn by shutting their eyes to every danger,
and parleying with every revolution, and who would propose a compromise
even with fire or fever, or plague itself." After this, X repeats the
old fable of the horse and the man, and then launches into a tirade
against France: "You refused to believe that Italy replaced foreign
influence by foreign dominion on the day on which France crossed the
Alps. Do you still disbelieve in the treason which is plotting against
Italy, by depriving her of her natural bulwarks, Savoy, Nice, and the
maritime Alps? Do you not see, that while you are lulled to sleep by the
syren song of Italian independence, Italy is weakened, dismembered and
enslaved?" A last suggestion of M, that possibly the language of the
encyclical letter was a little too strong, brings forth the following
retort: "It was strong, and tasted bitter to diseased and vitiated
palates, but to the lips of justice the taste was sweet and satisfying.
Poor nations! What have politics become? What filth we are obliged to
swallow! What scandal to the people; what a lesson of immorality is this
fashion of outraging every principle of right, with sword, tongue and
pen! In this chaos, blessed be Providence, there is one free voice left,
the voice of St Peter, which is raised in defence of justice, despised
and disregarded." Hereupon M confesses, "on the faith of a Moderate,"
that the refusal of the Pope to accept the advice of the Emperor was "an
act worthy of him, both as Pope and Italian sovereign," and then retires
in shame and confusion.

S, the sincere opponent, then enters and announces with foolish pride,
that "Italy shall be free, and the gates of hell shall prevail." Pride
cometh before a fall, and S is shortly convinced that his remark was
profane, and that, by his own shewing, liberty was a gift of hell. S
then repeats a number of common-places about the rights of men, the voice
of the people, and the will of the majority; and as, in every case, he
quotes these