Fifthly. Nothing is more dull and often unhealthy for the inhabitants as well as garrison, than towns situated far from the sea. Maritime forts, on the contrary, are in a very different position, from the salubrity of the air, and the abundance and freshness of the provisions, which render both garrison and inhabitants more attached to the cause they are contending for, more ready in its defence, and more patient in fatigue and danger.

Sixthly. When the sea is free, the garrisons of seaports are not liable to fall into the power of the enemy. The country does not at the same time lose a town and a part of her forces. The moral courage of the garrison, during a siege, is not affected by the fatal idea, that so much bloodshed, and so many sacrifices, can only retard for a few days the final necessity of surrendering. In war, as in every other social combination, moral discipline is everything,-and the first care should be to sustain and fortify the moral courage of the soldier. Strategic operations, scientific manoeuvres, numerical force, even military discipline-all are of secondary consideration.

Finally. The keeping in repair, of maritime forts is less expensive than inland; because their fortifications towards the sea are less costly than those which guard them by land; while the transport of troops and provisions to the place, is more economical by sea than land.

It is, therefore, clear that fortresses on the coast have immense advantages over those in the interior of a country: consequently, we have no difficulty in demonstrating the utility of steam-boats to Italy in time of war.*

Let us suppose that Italy possesses a number of steam-vessels, which in time of peace are employed in commerce, and which, during war, by taking in tow sailing vessels, could be employed to transport the personal and materiel of the army. It is easy to imagine that the strategical movements, which might be performed by these corps, might be as varied and numerous as the combinations of pawns on a chess-board.

* We think it necessary to make a rapid sketch of the principal maritime forts, and of those of the interior, which, in our opinion, it would be necessary to preserve, to put in a state of defence, or enlarge.

Persons not conversant with military knowledge may understand this chapter without such information; they should remark, that the number of places in the Peninsula, hereafter mentioned, is much smaller than that of other countries of Europe more or less extensive, yet that they would suffice for the defence of Italy. The principal sea fortresses would be, Venice, Ancona, Pescara, Manfredonia, Brundisi, Tarento, Crotona, Messina, Syracuse, Trapani, Palermo, Tropea, Capri, Gaëta, Porto Ferrajo, Spezia, and Genoa.

The forts in the interior would be, Mantua, Alexandria, Bologna, Foligno, Castro-Giovanni, in Sicily. These two last places must be supported by a permanent entrenched camp, in which a corps of artillery might defend themselves. Bologna should be fortified according to the beautiful plan which the Generals Haxo, Valasi, and Richemont proposed for the town of Paris. In L'Italie Militaire, we proposed another plan for the fortification of Bologna, but having examined that of the above-named generals, we believe it to be preferable.

In case of imminent emergency, a large entrenched camp should be constructed at Monteforte, near Avellino, and another in Calabria. Upon the Apennines, from the Alps to the Straits, convents and other buildings in positions inaccessible to artillery should here and there be fortified.

If it were only for the purpose of transporting troops with rapidity, all countries, surrounded more or less by the sea, would possess the same advantages. But it is also necessary to assure to the troops, thus disembarked, places of retreat, and a broken or mountainous territory, that they may not be exposed to the necessity, either of laying down their arms, or being defeated by an enemy superior in numbers or discipline. In Italy, such places of shelter, and this sort of broken country, are found both on the maritime positions on the two opposite coasts, and among the Apennines, which run the whole length of Italy neither France, Spain, nor England has the same long and narrow form of coast, nor have they the vicinity of high mountains; thus, in a defensive war, steam-boats would be less advantageous to them, than to the Italian peninsula.

To throw more light on these ideas, let us pass to the application of our theory. Let us suppose Italy independent, and again attacked by her old and constant enemy, Austria, and that the Austrian army occupies Lombardy. By means of their steam-boats and the seaports of Venice and Genoa, the Italians might transport their troops, and even two thirds of the garrisons of the other forts on the coast, either to the rear or flank of the enemy, as might seem expedient. Should the operation fail, they could take refuge in Venice, in Genoa and the Apennines, from whence they might gain Spezia, or fall on Bologna, by embarking their artillery.

We may here recal to remembrance that, more to the south, by the help of these same Apennines, Fabius saved Rome.

The Italians, being masters of the sea, could never lose Venice. If the enemy attempted to besiege Genoa, they would probably be defeated there;-for all the disposable forces of Italy, including those stationed in Sicily and on the Adriatic coasts, would be able rapidly to unite in the Genoese territory.

Should the enemy march on Bologna, the strategistic combinations would be multiplied in favour of Italy, since from the opposite coasts their available forces might at once fall on this point of offensive and defensive operations.

Supposing the enemy capable of surmounting all these obstacles, and of advancing to Foligna, this would be still more favourable to the Italians; for they would have the choice of attacking the enemy's lines, either in Lombardy near Venice, or at Bologna near Porto Ferrajo. In fine, the farther the enemy advanced towards the South, the more would the Italian forces (by means of the Apennines, and the two seas which continue to approach more nearly,) be able to form rapid movements and conjunctions;-sometimes, in order to obstruct the march of the enemy,-at others, to manoeuvre on their flank or rear. Would an Austrian army be more daring than the French under Massena, who ventured not to leave Gaëta in his rear? Yet the French, at that time, had a powerful party in the nation, and the Anglo-Sicilians could land but few troops.

We may remark, in the history of the wars of that epoch, what the English effected, with about 10,000 men, by landing them either in the Ionian Isles, or Ischia, near Naples, or sometimes in Spain, on the coasts of Valencia and Catalonia. Yet in these countries, the English

did not possess as many maritime fortresses as there are in Italy; and steam-boats were not then used.

If we have imagined an invading army penetrating so far into Italy, it has been, in order to point out more clearly the advantages which steam-boats would give the Italians, in case they were called upon to defend themselves.

This knowledge, should the occasion ever present itself, would calm their imaginations, struck by the remembrance of past reverses. It is most essential that they should know, that Italy, once independent, could never again become the prey of foreign ambition.*

A single year would be sufficient, wherein to enable the Italians to organize their forces, after this, a foreign enemy who should venture to attack them, would be defeated between the Alps, Genoa, Spezia, Bologna, and Venice. The invention of steam-boats would contribute much to their defeat in these territories. But the utility of these vessels to the Italians would increase as the enemy advanced towards the south of the Peninsula; the maritime fortresses on the Adriatic, combined with steam-boats, would not only facilitate bold defensive operations against the Austrians-but also enable them more easily to attack Austria herself, on the side of Trieste, Fiume, and Dalmatia.

It would be a fortunate circumstance for the Italians, to defend themselves by combating the enemy on his own territory.

Let us be permitted, for a moment, to recal the admiration which the Italian troops of every denomination inspired during the Empire: intrepidity, activity, sobriety, and vigour during their long marches;these were their acknowledged virtues. They endured with equal courage the burning sun of Spain, and the frozen climate of the North. Napoleon himself, at St. Helena, did them justice. But the Emperor Napoleon was not eager to launch the Italians on the career of glory; and they could not, on their side, display, in defence of the Empire, the zeal and enthusiasm which would animate them in a war, of which the object was their own independence.+

• We have treated in another place of the means by which the Italians might conquer their independence.

At St. Helena, Napoleon made use of the following words to Dr. O'Meara. "When the Austrians possessed Italy, they endeavoured, in vain, to make soldiers of the Italians. They deserted, as soon as levied; or, if obliged to march against the enemy, they fled at the first fire. After I had conquered Italy, and began to levy soldiers there, the Austrians laughed at me, and said it was time lost; they had long tried, and found it was not in the nature of the Italians to fight, or make good soldiers. Nevertheless, I enlisted several million Italians, who fought with as much bravery as the French, and who, even in my adversity, did not abandon me. What was the cause? I abandoned the whip and stick, which the Austrians had adopted ; I advanced those soldiers who showed talent; and made many of them generals. I substituted honour and emulation for fear and flogging."

Those writers, who blame the Italians, because they have not yet succeeded in driving away the enemy, and giving themselves constitutions, seem to forget, that, in Italy, the people have to contend at once with their own princes as well as Austria. These princes, deaf to the voice of honour, are only occupied in destroying the feelings of nationality which animate the Italians :-these princes labour only to effect their ruin;-but we still hope to see Italy struggle with success against her hard fate.

(To be continued.)

70

POEMS BY MRS. EDWARD THOMAS.

THE SOLDIER'S WIFE TO HER SLEEPING INFANT.
How can I mark thy smile, my slumb'ring boy,
Nor fancy-mock'd, deem it (to soothe my pain)
A courier-messenger of love and joy,

Sped by thy father, from the battle plain?
That soft smile stealing round thy dimpled mouth,
(Playful, as seraphs in Elysian sleep,)

Is wafted to thee, from that far-off South:
At whose sirocco, death-fraught breath I weep-
For tertian, spotted plague, tyrannic drought,
Ophthalmia, blinding with its subtle sand,
And ills unnumber'd, from those plains are caught,
Which he must traverse, ere he gains the land
Where victory's laurel-wreath is budding now,—
Oh! snatch'd with war's red hand, (its only bloom,)
To bind the conqueror's exulting brow;

But oft to garland his untimely tomb!

How calm the sleep that shuts thy sunny eyes!
How gently heaves thy little tranquil breast!
The deep'ning colour on thy soft cheek lies,
Bright as the fabled rose, night's lone bird blest,
When only love awoke its plaintive song,

When only love in each sad note was heard;
While tender echoes the fond strains prolong,
And sympathetic leaves young zephyrs stirr❜d!
Ah me! I dare not woo that gentle friend,

To soothing seal my sorrow-seeking sight;
For when sleep's pinions o'er my brows extend,
Come horrid dreams, my slumber to affright,
Painting thy father, with wounds gaping wide,
And calling on me, for my wifely aid;
Anon, come others, showing where he died,
And each ensanguined gash Bellona made.
Smile on, my baby! Oh, in mercy,
smile!
Let thy heart's gladness chase thy mother's fears;
Laugh out the dreams thou dost from cherubs wile,
That thy bright mirth reprove these dismal tears.
Smile! smile, my boy! for then, sweet one, thou art
So like thy father, he seems not away:
And thus, I lose my bosom's direst smart,

When thus fond Fancy doth her lures display. This holy hour, which pensive musing craves, (Released from battle's toil,) he pictures thee, (While homeward thoughts rush like tumultuous waves,) Serenely sleeping on thy mother's knee. Yes, there is surely, between heart and heart, Submissive only to Love's mystic will,

(Tho' distance holds them fearfully apart,) A fond intuitive communion still.

Attention to the Sick and Afflicted its own Reward.
Awake, my loveliest! awake! awake!

With new-blown buds of hope my breast is strown,
Yet, it doth hunger, that thou should'st partake
Its joy, unsatisfied to feel alone.

Awake, and share the dear ecstatic thought;
(Come, let me rouse thee with this rapt'rous kiss!)
Now whisper'd with a sweetness, angel-taught,
"Thy sire, perchance, is conscious of our bliss."

71

ATTENTION TO THE SICK AND AFFLICTED ITS OWN REWARD.
THERE is a bliss the self-absorb'd ne'er know,
A sparkling rill, from Mem'ry's fount to flow,
To irrigate the heart in after years,
When disappointment all its blossoms sears;
To do-undo-all that Caprice may please,-
To give the suffering momentary ease,-
To hush one groan in the o'erlabour'd breast,-
To soothe one riot pulse to healthful rest,—
Yields the compassionate a joy supreme
Beyond what Selfishness could ever dream!
Oh ye! who sullen grudge the irksome task,
Who 'neath the cloudless sun of pleasure bask,-
Go! change with him, long fretted by disease!
Then wilt thou learn how sweet is partial ease.
"Take physic, Pomp, and feel what wretches feel;"
Then will Compassion o'er thy bosom steal,
Like soft meand'ring stream, more felt than seen,
Whose limpid waters, with reviving green,
Clothe all they lave. But more thy tender care
Would the sad mourner rescue from despair-
Speak in the low tone, Sorrow holds so dear,
Nor hide from it the sympathetic tear ;-
Spare not the pressure of the gentle hand :
Wert thou the suff'rer, thou would'st understand
That these small acts, whose cost thou canst not count,
Are, to the stricken heart, of rich amount!
If aught of earth resemble Heaven's light,
It is the smile, so sudden and so bright,
That flashes o'er the wan face of Despair-
Made fully conscious,-Pity feels its care!—
Yes, sweet the radiant smile that then appears
Contesting with its melancholy tears!-
Sweet is the beam that lights the cheerless eye,
When new flush'd Hope directs it to the sky!
And sweet the bloom that mantles o'er the cheeks,
When the heart's gratitude it fondly speaks!
"Woman! thy mission" is, that task divine;
Oh! who, for worldly gauds, would it resign?-

-