The Sun.
London, England, 1860-01-19 00:00:00

THE 32d REGIMENT.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES.

Sir,—ln your issue of the 14th inst., a paragraph
is quoted from the Bombay Times, extracted from
the columns of one of your contemporaries, is which
the attention of the public is specially drawn to the
fact, that the only mark of remembrance to those
who perished at Cawnpore had been " erected by
20 men of the 32d Regiment."
The writer adds—" Possibly, if the truth were
known, these 20 poor soldiers were punished for
being absent without leave ; for what leave could
have been given them, to single themselves out so
honourably, to the shame of their comrades—a whole
army—and the especial shame of their officers 2"
As the Colonel commanding the 32d Light- Yn-
fantry, I beg to state that the above supposition is
as untruthful as it is ungenerous. These 20 men
arrived at Cawnpore during the hot season of 1857
from England, on their way to join their regiment,
at that time beleaguered in Lucknow.
They then and there, at Cawnpore, raised the
cross to the memory of their murdered comrades,
their wives, and children who formed (prior to the
mutiny) the depot of the regiment, under command
of the late Capt. John Moore, so distinguished for
his bravery in Sir Hugh Wheeler's entrenchment.
It was impossible, therefore, for the soldiers of
the 32d Regiment, still shut up in Lueknow, to join
their 20 companions in this good work at Cawnpore.
I may be allowed, further, to mention that the
32d only returned home in August last, and that
steps were at once taken by the corps for the erec-
tion of suitable monuments, both in England and
in India, to the memory of our comrades who fell
at Lucknow and Cawnpore.—Your obedient ser-
vant,

J. CARMICHAEL,
Lieutenant-Colonel 32d Light Infantry.
Cockfield Rectory, Suffolk, Jan. 16.

COUNT CAVOU_R'S RETURN TO POWER.

(From the Times.)
Matters are righting themselves. Civilisation is
once again marching ahead. Every event which
now happens tends to dissipate doubts, to revive
fainting hearts, and to spread throughout Europe
a comfortable confidence that peace, and order, and
reasonable liberty are coming back to spread their
influence over the civilised world. Might is once
again on theside of right. The Teat intellects of
the age and the honest minds of the age are assum-
ing their proper places—peacefully and as of right,
and not spasmodically and by violence. As in
those etchings which illustrate some wild German
story the triumph of the Good Principle is made
apparent by the rage and frenzy of the demons
who are disappointed of their prey, so in our
Europe of to-day the noisy clashing of all our
elements of ignorance and social ill serves but to
testify how true must be the policy which is causing
them such great disquiet. There are in this 19th
century classes which represent what the mass of
mankind was in the dark ages. There is in every
Roman Catholic country in Europe the poor
peasant who tills the earth, but is as untaught as
the beast he drives ; whose religion is but a super-
stition, as unreasoning and as uninformed as an
African's fetish worship ; who has animal com-
bativeness just as a dog or a game cock has animal
combativeness ; and whose voice and hand are at
the command of the nearest master who can arouse
his simple instincts. This crass herd of untaught
human creatures is now made to give weight, by
their hoarse chorus, to long tirades of frantic
abuse which the priests are pouring forth against
the quiet progress of truth: They have howled at
every light which has risen uyon the earth. Their
pagan fathers howled at Christianity ; they have
howled at the philosophy which taught them that
the world revolved, they have howled at education,
they have howled at the Bible spread open to the
people, and now they aro howling at freedom. It
is a noise, and nothing more ; but when it comes
loud and strong it testifies that some light is rising
which their masters hate. It is contemptible to all
our judgments, and to none is it more contemptible
than to those who, scornfully denying the peasant's
right of private judgment, yet call these demonstra-
tions forth. But if we would be safe in treating
them with scorn we must marshal our intelligence,
and place the proper men at the head of those who
aro labouring for the advancement of the human
race.

It was quite time that the great experiment
which is now being worked out in Italy should be
relieved from the unfair condition of circumstances
under which it was labouring. It was no trifling
sacrifice of old pride, and ancient civic vanities, and
long-cherished traditional dislikes, when Milan and
Florence and Parma and Bologna resolved to adopt
as their common object an annexation to Pied-
mont. Certainly it was not any special love for
Piedmont or any special reverence for Turin which
inspired them with this vehement desire. It was
not that they desired to become Piedmontese,
but that they yearned to become Italians. The
straight stick might despise the crooked stick, and
the long stick might hold the short stick in some
contempt ; but they knew that it was only by com-
ing together that they could become a fagot. There
were but two men in Piedmont who understood this
apparently obvious fact. One of these was Victor
Emmanuel ; the other man was Count Cavour.
Count Cavour has been from the commencement of
the transactions which have given shape and sub-
stance to the kingdom of Italy the Garibaldi of the
Council Chamber. Through evil report and through
good report, in rashness and in prudence, by right
and sometimes by wrong, when some meu hoped
and when all other men despaired, Cavour was
always labouring for Italy. He was not a Pied-
montese, for he recklessly perilled all the interests
of Piedmont for even a chance of Italian unity.
He was Italian, and nothing but Italian. He was
not only the master worker, but he was the type
of the cause of Italy. If Cavour was floating on
the surface, the stream was running favour-
ably ; if Cavour had disappeared, he had been borne
down by some current adverse to Italy. Villa-
franca came, and Cavour disappeared; and the
Italians looked on in distrust, almost in despair.
When the Congress was proposed, an interval of
painful suspense intervened until it was known
that Cavour was to go there for Piedmont. Then
Italians embraced each other in the streets, and
said with joy that all Italy would have a voice at
Paris. It is not only Turin which cherishes the
name of this man. Go to Milan or Florence, and
look in any trinket-shop—you will see, cut in
cameos, and wrought in mosaics, and moulded in
statuettes, and set in every species of breastpin or
bracelet or brooch, a little stout figure which
answers to no conception of Italian art. Every
Italian, however, is indignant if you pronounce
the delicate homage of 'wearing such an orna-
ment ridiculous —for that is Cavour. There
may be men who admire Fent', or Fariui, or
Buoncompagni, but the Italian people recognise
only Cavour and Garibaldi as the steadfast friends
of Italy. In his absence nothing went well. When
be went down Italy went down. The Government
of Piedmont became a Government of Piedmont,
and nothing more. 111iserable little selfish jobbers,
who saw in a great revolution only a provincial
opportunity; small men, whose only idea was to
use the rest of Italy to the profit of Piedmont, and
to find good places for particular Piedmontese—
these were the people who came to the surface when
Cavour departed. The trial of the persistency and
patriotism of Lombardy and the other provinces
was very great. We have published warnings from
time to time that such a state of things could
not long continue. Milan and Florence could not
shut their eyes and suffer for ever. No self-
sacrifice in Cavour and Garibaldi could always
hide the shameful slights and petty jealousy of
which they were made the objects. Mazsini was
creeping on to the scene, and lurked in the back-
ground; Como, Cremona, Crema, and the Duchies
were all overshadowed by his influence, and there
was great reason to fear that the patriotism of the
Italians would snap under the tension of the Turin
rule, or that their patience would be exhausted,
and the apostles of violence would have their day.
Every danger of this kind is ended by the return
of Cavour to his proper position at the head of the
Sardinia. Government. This fact is doubly sig-
nificant, for it tells us not only that an Italian
policy will henceforth rule in Turin, but also that
an Italian policy will be permitted and protected
from Paris. The area of rule is widening ;
what will it not soon comprehend? Venice w•
may hope to see become again Italian by purchase ;
but how will Naples fare when she is cut
off from her natural allies,—when she has no
Austrian army in Italy to come to her assist-
ance, and when the Pope is no longer
able to keep her in countenance by acts of tyranny
and deeds of blood ? At this moment the King of
Naples is acting as those confiding Neapolitans act
who build their little white villas half way utc
p:
Vesuvius. Ferdinand 11. bates no one jot Ofth hip
prerogative to do evil. We me
of mentioned
day the case of a young gentleman ed
mixedth Neapo-
litan other
day e
and
d castand Etnntgolipshrisdoens—cenant winhooffehnasdivebseynonanrg manrested
who took no part in politics.i>
still young mans
still in prison, unaccused, unexamined, and hope-
less of release. We are told that, so far as it can
be guessed, the cause of his arrest was as follows :
—Last y€ar the
ito Frenchinatod and
their
htoels
Sardinianin
Tliuis-
ters at Naples lm honour
of the battle of Magenta. A crowd of Neapo-
litans gathered under the windows, and among
the crowd was this young man. The armed police
made an onslaught on the sightseers, wounded
some, and made many prisoners. The prisonerwere carried before a court-martial, who proposed
to shoot them offhand, and it is seriously affirmed
that they were only prevented from doing so by the