force a Prince upon the Romans at the bayonet’s point? No one who has lived long enough amongst the Romans to know the real meaning of their sufferings—the intolerable shame and disgrace which they have been obliged to endure in silence—would dare to look his fellow-creatures in the face and speak a word in defence of such a system. Garibaldi, in his desire to purge Rome of priestly government, it cannot be too often said, represents the feelings of his countrymen in the highest degree.
The wise people of the earth are blaming him now, just as they blamed him when he defended Rome against the French, and kept them for so long a time at bay—just as they blamed him when, with a few score men at his back, he threw himself in the way of that huge military machine, the Austrian army—just as they blamed him when, with only so many men to back him as could be contained in a small steamer, he landed on the Sicilian coast, and conquered a kingdom. The history of this man’s life is a history of miracles. If he should succeed in turning the Pope out of Rome, by hook or by crook, it would not be at all more surprising than half-a-dozen other things which he has accomplished in the course of his career. Even with regard to the attack upon Venetia, which may or may not take place, but concerning which such dismal prognostications have been uttered, is it so very clear that Austria, with a bankrupt exchequer—with her discontented provinces—with Hungary once more upon the eve of insurrection—with the dubious alliance of exhausted and exasperated Russia to back her in her need—would be able to carry on a successful war against 26,000,000 or 28,000,000 of people fighting for the independence of their country, and for all that makes life worth having, and supported by the sympathies of Europe?
The Sardinian army seems to have acted in a very efficient manner wherever it has been called upon to serve. During the campaigns of the First Empire, Napoleon Bonaparte always reckoned his Italian regiments as amongst his best. Is it then so very obvious that Garibaldi is in the wrong this time when he is resolved to take Time by the forelock, and strive for the perfect liberation of Italy while the enthusiasm of the people is at its height? It may be so; but Joseph Garibaldi has come out the victor from many a hopeless contest, and has often proved himself to have been in the right when many very wise people said he was very much in the wrong.
THE SCHOOLMASTER ABROAD.
In the last generation, that history was reckoned a satisfactory one which contained a notice of the chief political events in which a nation had been engaged—of its triumphs by flood and field—of its alliances, of the eloquence of its statesmen, of the skill of its diplomatic agents. History disdained to look lower than to the doings of Kings, Generals, and Ambassadors. How the millions of whom a nation is really composed lived, and how they earned the means of living—what kind of houses they inhabited—what were their forms of recreation and amusement—were matters of too slight importance to occupy the serious attention of any gentleman who addressed himself deliberately to that most important task of writing the history of his country. Then we had a race of Economists, who considered human affairs from a scientific point of view. The laws, for example, which regulated the relations between capital and labour—the laws which presided over the increase and decrease of the population of a country—were all rigidly investigated, and enunciated in due logical form. Such learning is of great value. Let us not be ungrateful to the memory of such men as Adam Smith and Ricardo—or to the present fame of John Stuart Mill. All attempts at social improvement which do not rest upon the basis of absolute truth must, pro tanto, result in failure in so far as they depart from the laws in which it is expressed. Men in our day—and especially in our country—are endeavouring to throw the quoit a few paces further. Given the laws of political economy as a rational point of departure, is it not possible to push what is called Social Science to a still higher point, and by association, by influence, by example, to develop the good and to repress the bad tendencies of human society? The laws of political economy must still prevail, but they would then operate upon a different state of facts. These laws have been as potential in the Spanish Peninsula, or in the Pontifical States, as in our own manufacturing districts, or in the Scottish Lowlands. The two societies first named have received their punishment for setting these immutable canons at defiance—the two last have thriven, because they have acted in obedience to the laws which regulate the production, the accumulation, and the distribution of wealth. A regard to these will prepare the way for a higher development, because in proportion as a society becomes more wealthy, it will become more intelligent and self-conscious—more quick to discern and feel the presence of evil, and to provide apt remedies for its removal. The Economist would overstep his legitimate functions—it would perhaps be more decorous to say, would engage in other pursuits—if he attempted to deal with drunkenness, with crime, with education. There comes, however, a period in the history of a nation in which it is imperatively called upon to consider such questions, if it would not go back, or at least remain stationary in the path of progress. In all such matters the first point is to secure what medical men would call a correct diagnosis; or, in other words, an accurate notion of the social evils which exist in any human society. When the evil is known and appreciated we may safely rely upon the irrepressible tendency in human nature to struggle onwards from a worse to a better state of things. The mere fact of investigation is a proof that in this respect—the Schoolmaster is abroad.
We may fairly cite, as examples of the higher tone which prevails amongst modern historians, the “Pictorial History of England,” by Charles Knight, and the “History of the Thirty Years’ Peace,” by Harriet Martineau. In these two works the attempt of the writers has been to write the history of a people—not merely of a government, and they will remain, for this reason, most valuable contributions to the permanent literature of England. Better, however, than any formal