cultured  men.  The  works  of  Leonardo,  Angelo,
Eaphael,  Domenichino,  Titian,  —  when  will  they  die?
The  laurels  of  Dante,  Petrarch,  and  Tasso  lose  not
a  leaf;  what  thunder  shall  scorch  the  crown  on  the
brows  of  Lucretius  and  Virgil,  or  blast  the  beauty  of
the  Horatian  muse  ?  Rome,  the  widow  of  two  civili-
zations, sits  there  on  the  shore  of  the  Tiber,  sad,  yet
magnificently  beautiful;  she  bears  in  her  bosom  the
relics  of  heathen  and  Christian  martyrs,  but  with  atheis-
tic feet  tramples  the  ashes  of  her  own  victims,  martyrs
not  less  noble.  The  dust  of  Arnaldo  da  Brescia,  and
of  many  a  noble  soul,  yet  cries  out  of  the  Tiber  against
her.  Ignoble  sons,  a  populace  of  priests,  at  her  feet
consume  their  bread.  Austria  and  France  court  and
insult  her  by  turns.  The  Queen-Mother,  she  has  lost
her  power.
Yet  piety  still  treads  the  aisles  of  the  Italian  church :
but  alas,  it  is  the  mediaeval  piety  which  toUs  beUs,  fasts,
sings  antique  psalms  with  a  half  manly  voice,  prays,
and  gives  alms,  but  dares  not  think,  nor  work,  nor  do
justly  and  walk  manly  with  its  God.  Popeism  is  to
Italy  what  Czarism  is  to  Russia  —  only  the  Italian
more  thoughtful  hates  the  hand  that  rules.
In  the  educated  classes  scepticism  seems  chiefly  to
prevail ;  the  negations  of  the  French  and  Enghsh  Phi-
losophers of  the  last  century.  Able  men  reproduce  the
thoughts  of  Aristotle  and  Aquinas.  The  bold  voice  of
German  philosophy  is  echoed  from  the  Sorbonne  at
Paris,  and  a  feeble  note  of  the  echo  reaches  the  domos


INTRODUCTION.  xli

of  Italy.  Little  new  philosophy  gets  spoken  there.
