The Sun.
London, England, 1860-09-14 00:00:00

TILE KING OF NAPLES.

Among the summits of our Derbyshire highlands
stands the ruins of a mountain. It was never quite
an Alp, but even within the reach of human tradi-
tion it is said to have been a goodly peak. The
tourist who explores that cavernous district still
pauses to gaze and wonder at the mass of rubble
into which that shivered mountain has fallen. It
was not split into fragments by any tremendous
volcanic explosion ; no riven rocks or large boulders
lie about ; there is nothing grand or picturesque in
the ruin. Some internal weakness seem to have ope-
rated to destroy the cohesion of all the constituent
atoms of that towering sham. Operated upon
by no force which had any effect upon the
limestone rocks around, yielding to some in-
fluence scarcely greater than that of the ordinary
attraction of gravitation, one day it began to
crumble and dissolve ; and now it lies choking
the valley, a prostrate mass of mud—like that
Bourbon Sovereignty which yesterday raised its
head so high in Naples and Sicily, and to-day
crumbles without a touch at the mere menace of an
insurgent chief. Such events, at rare intervals, do
happen both in physics and in morals, but never
without their causes more or less occult, and
never without our special wonder. The passing
away of the Kingdom of Naples is like a story of
magic. It is not less wonderful than those tales
which amused our childhood, wherein we were told
of castles with horrible guardians and dreadful
dungeons, which endured in their tyrannous power
for ages, echoing to the moans of daring knights,
but which in a moment vanished into thin air when
the destined champion blew his blast. Translate
the wildest of these stories into natural language,
and we shall read no more than we may read in
that great European event which has passed before
our eyes during the last fortnight.
Garibaldi is a skilful soldier and an adventurous
leader, but he has not conquered Naples. Even
Garibaldi cannot conquer kingdoms by hurrying
along a little army at the rate of forty-five miles
a day in postchaises. Even Garibaldi does not take
a city by entering it alone in a railway carriage.
This is not war or conquest. It is the operation of
a natural law. It is a sort of political chymistry.
You may see it at any mechanics' institute. The
lecturer will show you some compound substance in
solution ; then he will pour in some third substance
for which one of the constituents of the compound
substance has a greater preference, or chymical
affinity, than it has for its present mate. At
once, and without hesitation and conflict, down
goes the rejected constituent to the bottom of the
glass, or up it flies in gas, and the two new sub-
stances combine and coalesce, happy in their new
form of matter, and, without further care for the
heavy powder that lies at the bottom, or for the
light gas which has bubbled off from the surface.
This is the sort of natural operation which has
taken place at Naples. There was, it seems, no
strong affinity between Francis 11. and even those
ovadic.nd sailors who were part of his general
system. Even they, by a force of instinct they could
not resist, were drawn away towards that much
less pompous personage whom Mr. Edwin James
saw in his red shirt, dirty jean trousers, and worn-
out boots, combing his long thin hair at the glass
in a little bedroom. This was the fated man against
whom the fleets and armies of the Sovereign of
Naples were without power. The wretched King,
at the approach of this enemy, felt like a man in a
dream whose arm will not obey his will and who
cannot strike a blow for his life. The moment was
come to join battle with the ragged bands of this
half-clad Filibuster, and there was a well-clad, well-
armed, and well-provisioned army and navy, which
might have made a holiday of such a work. But
that army and navy are but a phantasy. The Ad-
mirals come most -respectfully to say that the sea-
men will not fight against Garibaldi. The Generals
follow, and are most loyal in their desires, but they
are sure that if they lead their men into the field
they will all go over to Garibaldi. The National
Guard come next, and their loyalty is such that
they shed tears at the Royal distresses, but they
cannot fight against Garibaldi. And so Francis H.,
with all the semblance of strength around him,
stood without the proffer of a single sword and
without power over the action of a single soldier.
His police agents, his gaolers, his spies, his tor-
turers all slunk away, hiding themselves from the
great indignation. Nothing was faithful to him on
that day but one holy mountebank, who even to the
last played his blasphemous juggleries with some
effect. A "sweating Virgin" produced a grotesque
Babel of wailing and lamentations in Naples among
crowds who cared nothing for the fall of their
young King. But the time was gone by when the
popular tide could be turned by such a trick as
this. The King, after lingering in vain, and look-
ing vainly into every eye for some encouragement
to remain, departed ; the " sweating Virgin " was
wiped dry, and Garibaldi came in by the railway
train. This ought to be a lesson to Sovereigns who
have not yet arriyea at the crisis of that (limo