The Express.
London, England, 1858-04-02 00:00:00

THR CZAR AND THR POPI.

The most painful of his conflict., however, was one face to
face with the greatest of Europe's sovereigns, a man accus-
tomed to command without contradiction, and to be sur-
rounded by complete submisaion. Ile did not imagine that
there was a human being who would presume to read him a
lesson, or still lees to administer him a rebuke. It may be
proper to minim that the present Emperor of Ramie, while
Czuowich, visited Rome, and was received with the utinoet
respect by all ranks, and with extreme kindness by the
Pope. The young prises expressed himself highly gratified
by his reception ; and I was told by there to whom he had
declared it, that he had procured a portrait of Gregory,
which he said be should always keep. as that of a friend
deeply venerated and esteemed. Further, in 1842, the Em-
peror, his father, had sent very splendid presents to the
Pope, • vase of malachite, now in the Vatican library, and a
large supply of the same precious material fur the Basilica of
St Paul. Still he hod out ceased to deal heredity, not to my
cruelly, with Lie catholic subjects, especially the Poles.
They were driven into the Greek communion by putting it
out of their power to follow their own worship; they were
deprived of their cern Whops and priests, and even perse-
cuted by non violent inflictions and personal sufferings. On
this subject the Holy See bad both publicly and privately
complained; but so redress, and but little, if any, allevia-
ties, bad been obtained. At length. in December, 1846, the
Emperor Nicholas I. came himself to Rome. It was ob-
served, both in Italy end, I believe, in England, how ininntie
and noredaud were the precautions taken to secure him
'palest any danger of conspiracy : how bin apartment, bed,
food, body-guard, were arranged with a watchful eye to the
prevention of any *peptise from hidden enemies. lie this as
it may, nothing amiss befell him, milers it was his momen-
tous interview with the head of that church which be had
mercilessly persecuted, with him whose rival he considered
himpelf, as real autocratic head of a large proportion of what
he called the Orthodox Church," and as recognised pro-
tector of its entire communion. It was that the
Emperor should be attended by M. de Bouteneff, be minister
at Rome, and that the Pope should have a cardinal at his
side. He selected, as hes been said, the English Cardinal
Acton. This was not a usual provision for a royal visit, but
gave it rather the air of a conference; end so In truth it was.
The Pope felt he had • solemn sod trying duty to perform.
Could he allow the persecutor of his flock to approach him,
and depart without • mad of ezpatulation and even of re-
proul ? Could he receive him with a bland amide and insin-
cere accolade; speak to him of the unmeaning topics of the
hour, or of the cold politics of the world ? impoesible. It
would have been at variance, nut with personal dispneff Ins,
but with the spiritual character which be held of Father of
the Faithful, defender of the week ; shepherd of the ravened
Bock ; protector of the persteuted repreeentative of fearless,
uncompromising, martyred pontiff.; vices. of Him who
feared no stalking, soy more thin prowling, wolf. It would
have been to his conscience • gnswitig and undying re-
roach, if he had lost the opportunity of raying fame to face
wbat be had written and spoken of one absent, or if he had
not employed his privilege as • sovereign to second his
mission as a Pontiff. He would have confirmed by his
cowardice or his forbearance, though it might have been
called courtly refinement or gentleness of character, all the
etelf-rotifiSence sod fearleseneas of a fanatical persecutor,
placed above all but some great moral control.
Certainly much hung in the balance of that PonHff's de-
liberation, bow he ehould act. That meekest of men,
Pius VII., bad not neglected the opportunity of his capti-
vity, to enumerate, with fervid gentleness, to his powerful
master, the evils which the church had suffered at his hands.
Gregory never undertook any grave work without meuit
prayer; and one so momentous as this was not assuredly
determined on except after long and earnest supplication.
What were the Emperor's intentions, what his ideas, what
his derives in coming to Rome, and having no.'eenenly a
pereooal meeting with the Pope, it is impossible to conjec-
ture. Did he hope to overcome him by his splendid pee-
itenee, truly majestic, soldier-hke, and Imperial ? Or to
cajole and win him by soothing .peaches and insincere pro-
mises? Or to gain the interpreretive approval of silence
end forbearance? One must ceejecure in vain. Certain it
is, that became, be saw, and conquered not. It has been
already mentioned, that the subject and partkulare of the
conference were never revealed by its only Ilitoe,“ at Rome.
The Pope's own account was brief, simple, and full of con-
eeions power. I said to him all that the Holy (Meet die-
tated to me."•

And that he bad not spoken vainly, with words that bad
beaten the nil., but that their strokes had been well placed
and driven home, there was evidence otherwise escorted, An
&whin gentleman was in some part of the palace through
which the Imperial visitor pissed as be returned from his
interview, and described his altered appearance. He bad
entered with his usual firm and royal aspect, grand ac it wee
from statue-like features, stately frame, and martial bearing;
free and at hie sere, with gracious looks and condescending
gestures of salutation. Eto he pruned through the long suite
of anterooms, the imperial eagle, glorey, fiery, "with
plumes unruffled, and with eye unquenched," In all the
glory of pinions which no flight had ever wearied, of beak
and talon which no prey had yet resisted. He came forth
again, with bead uncovered, and hair, if it can be Paid of
man, diabevelled; haggard and pale, looking as though in
an hour he had passed through the condenoat ion of a pro-
tracted fever; taking long stride., with stooping shoulders,
unobservant, on/eluting: he waited not for his carriage to
come to the foot of the stairs, but rushed out into the outer
court, and hurried away from apparently the ennui of a die-
cotulitore. It was the eaglet dragged from hi. eyrie among
the cleftsof the reek., "from his nest among the stars," his
feathers crumpled, and his eye quelled, by a power till then
despised.

Life's Problems : Essays, Moral, Social, and Psy-
chological. London : Bill and Daldy. 1857.
There are some books one can hardly read without
being the better for their perusal. They strip off
from our self-complacency some of that Pharisaic
indulgence ever inclining us to " thank God we are
not as other men are," or even as the poor publican
we regard with so much contempt. This should be
the great object of a preacher. If he does his work
never so well, however, it is apt to make but a small
impression upon us. It is just what we expect, and
so we receive it lazily, and it hardly ruffles our com-
posure. Sometimes an essay by an unknown author,
if we read it in a reflective mood, may strike upon
our spiritual ear like the still small voice of con-
science,—all the more forcibly because it does not
preach, but resembles rather the musings of our own
spirit, because it seems to clothe thoughts, which we
have often been conscious of,in intelligible language,
and sounds like the prompting' of our better nature.
If any of our readers should wish for such a com-
panion for his solitude as this, we commend " Life's
Problems" to his notice.

REMEMBERED AT Home.—Besides their own
instinctive nature (which to be wore aids wonderfully in the
matter), the tenure and contemplation attendant upon their
home life serve to fester the tenderloin arid fidelity of oar
women. The men gone. there is all day to think about
them, arid to-morrow and to-morrow—when there certainly
will bee letter—and so on. There is the vacant nom to go
and look ►t, where the boy slept lest n*hti, end the ion•
preseion of his carpet-bag is still on the bed.
There is his whip hung up in the hell, sad hie
fishing-rod and basket—mute memorials of the brief byline
pleasures. At dinner there comn up that cherry-tart, half
of which our darling ate st two o'clock in spite of his lanset-
, choly, and with a choking little sister on each side of him.
The evening prayer it paid without that young *choler's
voice to utter the due responses. Midnight and mimes
cone, and the good mother lies wakeful, *Waking how one
of the deer accustomed brood is away from the nest.
Morn breaks, home and holidays have passed away, and toil
sad labour have begun far hiro.—Dir Virlissons, No. 6.