Page images
PDF
EPUB

devoted men among them, who feel all the responsibilities of their situation, and know how to estimate its dangers, and, keeping their way firmly through every obstacle, turn for consolation and hope from the false judgments of contemporaries who know but a part, to that unerring posterity which sees the whole.

Still, whatever the character of individual professors may be, the university course, like that of the colleges, must necessarily be confined to a beaten track more or less rigorously. But what the students learn of themselves has a very different bearing. In their class-rooms, they feel, as men always do when united in some common pursuit, what a cheering strength there is in union; and in the retirement of their own chambers, they learn how to use it to advantage. They are free from the irksome restraint and enervating discipline of college. They can walk, and ride, and move in the open air, at will. There is no pedantic pedagogue to watch over their sports, or marshal them forth upon their daily or weekly walk. There are libraries at their command, and newspapers to tell them at least something of what is going on in the world, and friends to cheer and guide them, and, above all, companions to discuss their studies with, and compare their progress. And here it is that the influence of literature is felt more directly, and that the writer's perilous task becomes indeed a holy mission. These are the readers and judges to whom he is looking forward from the retirement of his closet, with the hope of a juster appreciation, and cautiously choosing out the seed which he is compelled to sow with so sparing a hand. For, in spite of censors and spies, of ecclesiastical prohibitions and political watchfulness, a large portion of the new works are read in the universities,

circulating stealthily, it is true, to be studied by lamp-light, and with doors locked carefully,-locked as if thought were a crime, but gradually spreading their truths throughout the whole peninsula, and awakening the flame of enlightened patriotism in the breasts of those who, when the day of action comes, will be men.

But an entirely new feature in Italian society is the education of the lower classes, which had hitherto been mostly confined to the catechism, and the priest's instruction during Lent. Now, in many parts of Italy, there are day-schools for all, and night-schools for those whose poverty compels

them to devote all the hours of daylight to labor. And there are men, too, of high intellect and delicate taste, who are making a willing sacrifice of the honor they might win in more congenial walks of literature in order to write books and edit papers for artisans and peasants.* It is doubtless a misfortune that the direction of these schools should, in some places, have been exclusively confided to a particular class, and not always to the most enlightened members of it; and it is a misfortune, also, that the course of instruction should be so limited, and the text-book often chosen so badly. But still it is a great step, and if these long-neglected beings learn little more than to read and write, and perform for themselves the simple operations of arithmetic, it is a steppingstone secured for some advancement yet more extensive. The beginning has been made, the principle of the importance of popular education has been accepted, and whatever it leads to must be accepted with it.

The education of the people would naturally lead us to that of the middle classes, that chief reliance of a nation in certain stages of its progress towards liberty. But a full picture would carry us too far, and a partial sketch would hardly convey any definite idea of this difficult subject. The existence of the middle class, however, as an active and efficient one, is an important fact, and the true nature of their double relation to the aristocracy on the one hand, and to the people on the other, is one of the surest tests of the progress of political liberty. For, so long as tradition prevails over reason, the aristocracy will command all those whom the chances of birth have placed below them. But with the development of the spirit of inquiry, it becomes evident that the real efficiency of the state lies with those who form the largest proportion of its active members. And as every social truth, however suppressed for a time, must sooner or later become a living principle of action, the middle class. soon passes from a consciousness of the right to an open assertion of it. Then comes the struggle between privilege and power, the truly brilliant period of their history; for all that precedes is toil and humiliation, and the closing scenes

* In Rome there is an admirable little paper of this kind, L' Artigianello, edited by Ottavio Gigli, who proposes publishing a series of elementary scientific and historical works for the same class of readers.

are too often defaced by selfishness and arrogance and a sordid thirst of gain.

Of one of the most important branches of this class, the curates and common clergy, it is difficult to speak with precision. Wherever the church offers a sure road to fortune, and a probable one to power, many will be found ready to take orders, as they would take their diploma in medicine or law, not from devotion to the duties of the profession, but for the chances which it gives of advancement. But wherever there is a religion which addresses itself to the nobler principles of our nature, and opens the way for the exercise of its characteristic virtues, many will be found to whom its most rigorous prohibitions are its greatest charm. There can be little doubt but that there are many ignorant and worthless men among the clergy; and it is no less true that there are many among them of profound learning and the purest piety. And great as the inducements are to seek in the church an easy support rather than a field of utility, yet we doubt whether a very great proportion even of those who enter it from such unworthy motives can go through the daily performance of its duties, without experiencing sooner or later in their own hearts the purifying influences of the mission which they had assumed so thoughtlessly. The heart may be hardened to the death-bed, and the eye learn to look on want and sorrow coldly; but for all men there are some silent hours of self-inquisition, when none but those who are utterly corrupted can refrain from asking themselves how far the part which they are playing in the great drama of life corresponds with what they have undertaken, and what they have the means to do. And in a profession which brings so constantly before the mind all the more serious questions of life, in their most serious form, these hours of introspection must be more frequent, and their effects more lasting. It is difficult to conceive of a stream which should flow for ever over beds of ore without bearing away some grains in its waters, or of a mind that could dwell daily on the truths of Christianity without imbibing somewhat of their chastening spirit.

The clergy of every class generally receive their education in colleges and seminaries, completing their course at the university, and thus becoming exposed, to a certain extent, to the injurious influences of these institutions. But they are educated with a direct object ever present to their minds,

them to devote all the hours of daylight to labor. And there are men, too, of high intellect and delicate taste, who are making a willing sacrifice of the honor they might win in more congenial walks of literature in order to write books and edit papers for artisans and peasants.* It is doubtless a misfortune that the direction of these schools should, in some places, have been exclusively confided to a particular class, and not always to the most enlightened members of it; and it is a misfortune, also, that the course of instruction should be so limited, and the text-book often chosen so badly. But still it is a great step, and if these long-neglected beings learn little more than to read and write, and perform for themselves the simple operations of arithmetic, it is a steppingstone secured for some advancement yet more extensive. The beginning has been made, the principle of the importance of popular education has been accepted, and whatever it leads to must be accepted with it.

The education of the people would naturally lead us to that of the middle classes, that chief reliance of a nation in certain stages of its progress towards liberty. But a full picture would carry us too far, and a partial sketch would hardly convey any definite idea of this difficult subject. The existence of the middle class, however, as an active and efficient one, is an important fact, and the true nature of their double relation to the aristocracy on the one hand, and to the people on the other, is one of the surest tests of the progress of political liberty. For, so long as tradition prevails over reason, the aristocracy will command all those whom the chances of birth have placed below them. But with the development of the spirit of inquiry, it becomes evident that the real efficiency of the state lies with those who form the largest proportion of its active members. And as every social truth, however suppressed for a time, must sooner or later become a living principle of action, the middle class soon passes from a consciousness of the right to an open assertion of it. Then comes the struggle between privilege and power, the truly brilliant period of their history; for all that precedes is toil and humiliation, and the closing scenes

* In Rome there is an admirable little paper of this kind, L' Artigianello, edited by Ottavio Gigli, who proposes publishing a series of elementary scientific and historical works for the same class of readers.

are too often defaced by selfishness and arrogance and a sordid thirst of gain.

Of one of the most important branches of this class, the curates and common clergy, it is difficult to speak with precision. Wherever the church offers a sure road to fortune, and a probable one to power, many will be found ready to take orders, as they would take their diploma in medicine or law, not from devotion to the duties of the profession, but for the chances which it gives of advancement. But wherever there is a religion which addresses itself to the nobler principles of our nature, and opens the way for the exercise of its characteristic virtues, many will be found to whom its most rigorous prohibitions are its greatest charm. There can be little doubt but that there are many ignorant and worthless men among the clergy; and it is no less true that there are many among them of profound learning and the purest piety. And great as the inducements are to seek in the church an easy support rather than a field of utility, yet we doubt whether a very great proportion even of those who enter it from such unworthy motives can go through the daily performance of its duties, without experiencing sooner or later in their own hearts the purifying influences of the mission which they had assumed so thoughtlessly. The heart may be hardened to the death-bed, and the eye learn to look on want and sorrow coldly; but for all men there are some silent hours of self-inquisition, when none but those who are utterly corrupted can refrain from asking themselves how far the part which they are playing in the great drama of life corresponds with what they have undertaken, and what they have the means to do. And in a profession which brings so constantly before the mind all the more serious questions of life, in their most serious form, these hours of introspection must be more frequent, and their effects more lasting. It is difficult to conceive of a stream which should flow for ever over beds of ore without bearing away some grains in its waters, or of a mind that could dwell daily on the truths of Christianity without imbibing somewhat of their chastening spirit.

The clergy of every class generally receive their education in colleges and seminaries, completing their course at the university, and thus becoming exposed, to a certain extent, to the injurious influences of these institutions. But they are educated with a direct object ever present to their minds,

« PreviousContinue »