obvious tide throughout Europe toward a better
order of things, and a wave of it may bear Italy onward to the shore.

The revolution, like all genuine ones, has been instinctive, its
results unexpected and surprising to the greater part of those who
achieved them. The waters, which had flowed so secretly beneath the
crust of habit that many never heard their murmur, unless in dreams,
have suddenly burst to light in full and beautiful jets; all rush to
drink the pure and living draught.

As in the time of Jesus, the multitude had been long enslaved beneath
a cumbrous ritual, their minds designedly darkened by those who
should have enlightened them, brutified, corrupted, amid monstrous
contradictions and abuses; yet the moment they hear a word
correspondent to the original nature, "Yes, it is true," they cry. "It
is spoken with, authority. Yes, it ought to be so. Priests ought to
be better and wiser than other men; if they were, they would not need
pomp and temporal power to command respect. Yes, it is true; we ought
not to lie; we should not try to impose upon one another. We ought
rather to prefer that our children should work honestly for their
bread, than get it by cheating, begging, or the prostitution of their
mothers. It would be better to act worthily and kindly, probably would
please God more than the kissing of relics. We have long darkly felt
that these things were so; _now_ we know it."

The unreality of relation between the people and the hierarchy was
obvious instantly upon the flight of Pius. He made an immense mistake
then, and he made it because neither he nor his Cardinals were aware
of the unreality. They did not know that, great as is the force of
habit, truth _only_ is imperishable. The people had abhorred Gregory,
had adored Pius, upon whom they looked as a saviour, as a liberator;
finding themselves deceived, a mourning-veil had overshadowed their
love. Still, had Pius remained here, and had courage to show himself
on agitating occasions, his position as the Pope, before whom they had
been bred to bow, his aspect, which had once seemed to them full of
blessing and promise, like that of an angel, would have still retained
power. Probably the temporal dominion of the Papacy would not have
been broken up. He fled; the people felt contempt for his want of
force and truth. He wrote to reproach them with ingratitude; they were
indignant. What had they to be grateful for? A constitution to which
he had