ore him, he is triumphant; his cheek
glows, his eye brightens, his chest expands, he sees he has you at a
disadvantage, and regards you as one who in a moment of passion has
thrown his cards on the table and exposed his hand. After this it is
next to impossible to regain your position before him. If you be
calm, however, and if, besides being calm, you can be sarcastic, he is
overcome at once.

It is a rare thing--one of the rarest--to see this weapon employed in
the debates; but when it does occur, it is ever successful. The fact
is, that Wit, which forms the subtlety of other nations, is not subtle
enough for the Italian; and the edge that cuts so cleanly elsewhere
makes a jagged wound with them.

After all, they are very easy to live with. If the social atmosphere
is not very stimulating or invigorating, it is easy to breathe, and
pleasant withal; and one trait of theirs is not without its especial
merit--they are less under the control of conventionalities than any
people I ever heard of, and consequently have few affectations. If they
do assume any little part, or play off any little game, it is with the
palpable object of a distinct gain by it; never is it done for personal
display or individual glory. There are no more snobs in Italy than
there are snakes in Iceland; and that, after all, is, as the world goes,
saying something for a people.

Of all the nations of Europe, I know of none, save Italy, in which the
characters are the same in every class and gradation. The appeal you
would make to the Italian noble must be the same you would address to
the humble peasant on his property. The point of view is invariably
identical; the sympathies are always alike. No matter what differences
education may have instituted and habits implanted, the nobleman and his
lackey think and feel and reason alike. Separate them how you will in
station, and they will still approach the consideration of any subject
in the same spirit, and regard it with the same hopes and fears, the
same expectations and distrusts. To this trait, of whose existence
Cavour well knew, was owing the marvellous unanimity in the nation on
the last war with Austria. The appeal to the prince could be addressed,
and was addressed, to the peasant. There was not an argument that spoke
to the one which was not re-echoed in the heart of the other. In fact,
the chain that binds the social condition of Italy is shorter than
elsewhere, and the extreme links are l