me, and that I can't get rid of him. He makes of me a Promethean Tommy, bound; and he is the vulture that gorges itself upon the liver of my uninstructed mind.
Little Italy's School-Bell.
"Ringle - tingle - tingle - ring - ting - ting." Now, my little friends (says dame Progress, appearing at the door, her active fingers never ceasing their work, her eager eyes scanning the disordered legions), time, time! No more lying in the sunny corners, no more ruinous gambling with brass buttons, no more duckings and divings for the amusement of travelling boobies as idle as yourselves, begging, bickering, and leading of lives such as an intelligent street cur, if he had the chance, would proudly reject in favour of his own. Come in, I say, every boy of you, and listen to me. Gaetano, put on your shoes. Do that again, Luigi, and I'll
Well, you have played at soldiers long enough, and—mercy, Giuseppe! what a cut the boy has got! "Fighting with the Roman fellow?" Served you right, then. You were brothers. "Thrashed him all the same, would you, if it hadn't been for the big French bully that always takes his part?" Well, you knew he would do so, and that he is three tunes your size! No more swimming-matches, nor sailing of boats, for the present. Remember what happened on the pond at Lissa, from going out without your corks. Boys of other schools are busy with their tasks, or amusing themselves with their own little games, and here's a beautiful opportunity for you and me. Antonio, and Pietro, stand apart. Giovenico, instead of egging them on, stand between them, and mind, my eye is upon you.
Something very dreadful has been publicity told of you lately—something, my boys, that might excuse what most of you are doing now, putting your fingers in your mouths, ashamed. Seventeen millions, out of twenty-five, that have not learned to read and write! I am quite shocked. If it had not been said by a statesman and a newspaper, that always speak truth, I could have hoped there was a mistake. It is horrible, and I don't think I can go on.
I need not ask you, children, whether you have ever heard the name of Giuseppe GaribHush! You stun me. Shout when I've done. Well, this Giuseppe—too wise to be a statesman, too great to be a king—desiring to free you from the bondage of the most cruel and oppressive tyrant of the age—ignorance—seeks no allies but the liberal and enlightened heart, uses no weapons but those of peace and love.
He knows—and we know—that the strife is strong, and that the victory will be hard. For ignorance is slow to overcome, and has but too large a body of devoted adherents, whose interest it is that the tyrant should continue to hold the human race in thrall.
The war-note, however, has sounded. The battle has begun. You know what Giuseppe said, when they wrote to him that they were about to erect a statue to his honour. "While one child, in the district you govern, remains uneducated, raise no statue to me."
Now, my children, though reading, and writing, and the certainty that two and two are four—are excellent acquirements, as far as they go—(and that is, at present, far ahead of us) people cannot always live upon and by them. Know that your well-wishers do not limit their desires and efforts to teaching you these—to giving you the key of wisdom's treasure-chest—and leaving you, uncertain and bewildered, in the presence of her rich and varied store. They would—under that Providence which they pray may guide their judgment—become instrumental in directing yours.
Our Italy has many a school already, where such an education as I have described is lucidly and sedulously bestowed; but the task of the teachers seems to end where that which we propose to ourselves really begins. You must not alone be made reading and writing machines, but must be put in the way to become as you grow up, good husbands and fathers—good wives and mothers—good citizens, good soldiers, good men.
The idea suggested by Garibaldi has been understood and accepted in his own country; but, at present, that country is poor, oppressed with debt, laden with inevitable taxation. Good people, in countries blessed with peace and plenty, have come to our aid, and large-handed England, whose heart was with us in our fight for freedom, now assists us to realise the benefits that freedom brings.
Folks there are, I am told, who grumble, and demand why, seeing that there are still poor and ignorant people at home, the money is not all given to them. My boys, mankind is but one family. If the meal within the house has been but coarse and scanty, shall the beggar without be left to perish for need of the crumbs? When England, in a time of trial, received large gifts for her suffering thousands from France and America, I do not remember that any voice in those noble countries was raised against that generous recognition of the universal brotherhood of man.
It is the very success of liberal home efforts that has encouraged our English friends to give them a wider extension. In Ireland schools, such as those proposed for us, have been some time established. Not only have they answered their original benevolent end, but have attained another, not the least advantage of which is, that it silences the grumblers I have alluded to. The schools support themselves.
Boys and girls, is it not a better thing to live by the labour of your own honest hands—to become useful, active, intelligent beings—than to lie wallowing among the clods of the earth? I see by your attention that you are listening to me, and striving to comprehend what you are invited to do. Well, then, first, what is to be learned? I will tell you.
