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Enhanced Typesetting: Enabled. Page Flip: Enabled. And the guerilla war was carried on effectively in many parts of the North and Centre of the Peninsula. I have heard much of the Resistance Movement from those who took part in it, both Italians who carried it on and British soldiers who helped it, some of whom afterwards returned to be undergraduates in this College.

It was a noble affair, and it was in every sense a revival of the Garibaldian tradition. Garibaldi was always the symbol to Italians of anti-Fascism and of friendship to this country. May that friendship never again be broken! Trinity College, Cambridge, A list of books which I have consulted since the Third Edition appeared will be found as Addenda to the Bibhography, pp.

Hamilton King, who lent me the very rare tract, Uccellini's ' Garibaldi sottratto dai patrioti Ravegnani alle ricerche degli Austriaci,' the best authority on the escape from S. Alberto as far as ForH, and Gualtieri's ' Ugo Bassi,' the best authority for the events attending his martyrdom ; and lastly to Miss Forbes, who lent me the papers of her father Col.

The Bibhography has been enlarged and brought up to date. June 22, G.

Alla luce del sole- completo in italiano

It is not on this account that the present volume has been written and published, but the coincidence may be an additional reason why some Enghshmen should be curious to read about the man for whom their fathers entertained a passionate enthusiasm, pure of all taint of materialism and self-interest. On the occasion of his famous visit to our country in , the ovation which he received was so universal and so over- whelming that there was nothing in the nineteenth century like it, except perhaps the Jubilee procession of the Queen herself.

The feehng for Garibaldi had by no means become universal among the English in , the year with which this book is concerned, but even then ItaHan sympathies were stronger here than anywhere else in Europe. We EngUsh retain to this day the Uon's share of Italy's gratitude. Nor is the reason far to see. Though England was not the country which actually accomplished most for Itahan freedom and unity, it was the country in Europe where the passion for that cause was, beyond aU comparison, strongest and most disinterested, and where it will be for ever connected with such names as Byron and SheUey, Palmerston and Gladstone, Browning and Swinburne.

The attachment of our fathers to Garibaldi grew out of their Italian sympathies, but it grew also out of something in his personaUty pecuharly captivating to the English, PREFACE ix who saw in him the rover of great spaces of land aad sea, the fighter against desperate odds, the champion of the oppressed, the patriot, the humane and generous man, all in one.

He touched a chord of poetry and romance still latent in the heart of our city populations, so far removed in their surroundings and opportunities from the scenes and actions of his life. Whether his memory will now appeal to the English of a generation yet further removed from nature, and said to be at once more sophisticated and less idealist than the Victorian, I do not know.

But I doubt whether we have really changed so much. Certainly the help and encouragement in my task which I have received from English people leads me to suppose that the name of Garibaldi can still stir many hearts in this island. Foremost among them I must thank Lord Carhsle ; then Mrs. Hamilton King ; Mr. Smith, of Balliol ; Dr. Spence Watson ; Mr. Brand, the Librarian of the Admiralty ; Dr. Arnold ; Mr. Bruce ; the Rev. Ragg ; Mr. Bolton King ; Mrs.

Humphry Ward, and many others, some of whom are mentioned by name in the notes of this book. Three persons have read the proofs of the whole book at a cost of time to themselves from which I have greatly profited — Mr. Count Balzani, whose time has been lavished upon me with a kindness which I can never forget, not only aided me in a hundred ways himself, but introduced me to many of my now numerous Italian friends ; for their work on my behalf I am aU the more grateful because it was largely inspired by an enthusiasm which we have in common. Guerrazzi, and G.

Stiavelli of Rome ; Sign. Luigi Torre of Casale Monferrato ; Sign. Ermanno Loevinson the author of Garibaldi e la sua Legione and Cav. Mario Menghini of the Bib. I do not know whether to thank my friend Mr. Nelson Gay more for putting his splendid Risorgimento library at my disposal, or for giving me so much of his valuable student's time, which he spends with such zeal on behalf of Italy. I am indebted to Mr.

Johnston of Harvard for a correspondence which has been to me both pleasant and useful. I heartily thank Commandant Weil of Paris for his friendly offices, and the French Ministry of War for a liberality of which I am most sensible. I trust they will not think that I have abused their kindness ; no one is more aware than the author of this book of the courage, dis- cipline, and humanity of the French troops in , or of the immense debt that Italy owes to the First Napoleon, and, in spite of Rome and Mentana, to the Third.

Chelsea : March Italy's failure in 42 IV. I35 IX. I94 XI. The pictures facing p. Lord Carlisle tells me the pictures were done by George Thomas. X From the original pencil drawings for the famous Don Pirlone cartoons, which drawings are now in the possession of Mr.

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Smith of Balliol, who kindly lent them to me. They first appeared in the newspaper ; see Don Pirlone, Jan. Hilton Young. There it all lies beneath us, the heart of Europe and the hving chronicle of man's long march to civilisation ; for there, we know, are the well-proportioned piazzas with their ancient columns and their fountains splashing in shade and shine around the sculptured water-gods of the Renais- sance ; the Forum won back by the spade ; and the first monuments of the Christian Conquest.

There rise the naked hulks of giant ruins stripped of their imperial grandeur long ago by hungry generations of Papal architects ; and there, on the outskirts of the town, is the Pyramid that keeps watch over the graves. As we look down we feel the presence of all the centuries of European history, a score of civiUsations dead and lying in state one beside the other ; and in the midst of their eternal monuments mankind still swarms and labours, after all its strange amd varied experience, still intent to Hve, still busily weaving the remote future out of the immemorial past.

Across the fifteen miles that lie between the roofs of the capital and this great semi-circle of sacred hills, rolls sea-like the Campagna in waves of bare, open country. In the solemn hush of the distance on which we gaze, through the clear morning air, it seems as if that semi-circle of mountains were the seats of a Greek theatre whereon some audience of patient gods were watching an endless play, as if Rome were the stage on which their looks were centred from the distant hills to north and east and south, while behind, in the west, meet sea and sky, a background before which the short-lived actors move.

For his sake, or for Italy's, turn aside a few steps to the Porta San Pancrazio. Standing under its archway we look out of Rome westward, up a country road, which runs straight for two hundred yards, and then sphts off to right and left. At the forking of the ways our view from the city gate is blocked by the entrance to a beautiful garden, the grounds of the Pamfili-Doria. Inside that garden we see a slope of grass, with a path running up it to an ornamental arch, which now stands where the Villa Corsini once stood.

Between the Porta San Pancrazio and this other archway on the hill top, some four hundred paces away, Italy poured out her best blood. On that narrow white road, and up that green slope, and in the old battered Villa Vascello on the right of the roadway still left like Hougoumont in honourable ruin were mowed down the chosen youth of Italy, the men who would have been called to make her laws and lead her armies, and write her songs and history, when her day came, but that they judged it necessary to die here in order that her day should come.

It was here that Italy bought Rome, at the price of their blood — here at the San Pancrazio Gate, in , that her claim on Rome was staked out and paid for ; twenty-one years passed, and then, in , the debt was acquitted. That there should ever have been a time when Mazzini ruled Rome and Garibaldi defended her walls, sounds like a poet's dream. These later events are the march of Garibaldi across Italy, hunted by the French, Spanish and Neapolitan forces through Umbria and Tuscany, into a network of four armies of Austrians spread over northern Umbria and the Romagna ; the extraordinary feats of skill and energy with which the greatest of guerilla chiefs again and again disentangled his little band of followers from surrounding hosts, and carried them across the Apennine watershed to the Adriatic sea-board ; the final hunting of them into the territories of the Republic of San Mijino, by Austrians, close on their heels, cruel as the dragoons of Claverhouse, killing or torturing all those whom they caught.

Then the disbanding of the bulk of the Roman forces on the friendly neutral territory of the hill Republic, and Garibaldi's rush to the coast, through the enemy's cordon, with the last two hundred, who would not, merely to save their lives, give up the sacred war so long as Venice held out ; their midnight embarkation in the fishing boats at Cesen- atico ; their fatal meeting, on the way to Venice, with the Austrian gun-boats ; the re-landing, among the lagoons north of Ravenna, of Garibaldi with his dying wife in his arms, in company with Ugo Bassi and Ciceruacchio, who were destined in a few days to fall into the hands of the hunters and perish.

Not so Garibaldi. I shaU tell how the man of destiny, wandering in the marshes and the pine- forest of Ravenna, among regiments of soldiers seeking for his Ufe as for the prize of the war, was preserved by the strange working of chance, by the iron courage and en- durance of the worn Odysseus himself, and by the craft, energy, and devotion of the Romagnuols, who guarded him at peril of their lives, as the West countrymen after Wor- cester fight guarded a less precious treasure.

All this, and his escape back across the breadth of Italy to the Western sea, and embarkation in the Tuscan Maremma for lands of refuge where he could await his great day, wiU, together with the siege of Rome, form the principal theme oi the book. Hoping to make the story of the defence of Rome, of the retreat of the Garibaldians and the escape of their chief stand out in all its details of place and colouring, I have not only visited the scenes in the capital and near it, but have walked along the whole route traversed by Garibaldi's column from the gate of Rome to Cesenatico on the Adriatic, and have visited the scenes of his adventures near Comacchio and Ravenna.

It would, perhaps, be impossible to find in all Europe a district more enchanting to the eye by its shapes, its colours, its atmosphere, or one more filled with famous towns, rivers and mountains, than the valleys of Tiber, Nar, Clanis, Metaurus and Rubicon, across which they marched.


Through this land of old beauty I have followed on foot their track of pain and death, with such a knowledge of where they went, and how they fared each day, as is not often the fortune of pilgrims who tracb the steps of heroes. Peter's, and that other hill where the face of Garibaldi brightened at sight of the Adriatic ; to traverse the oak woods through which they marched under the stars ; or where they slept through the long Italian noonday ; to draw breath in the quiet monastery gardens, perched high over hills of olive and plains of vine, wherein they tasted brief hours of green coolness and repose ; to scale the bare mountains up which they dragged their little piece of cannon, and descend the gorge where at the last they ' This extremely detailed knowledge we owe, mainly, to two men, Hotfstetter and Bellurzi.

See Bibliography below. Hear ye not the hum Of mighty workings? In these words one who never Hved to see it prophesied the new world. It was two years after Waterloo, a time of disillusion and of fainting by the way, when Europe, bled white by the man who was to have been her saviour, was again prisoner to kings whom she no longer reverenced.

But, in fact, as Keats' instinct told him truly, the fields were ready for sowing, and the sowers were there unseen. If we think whom the young generation contained undistinguished in its ranks when Keats pubhshed these lines in , we shall see that he was speaking more truly than even he, in his poet's ardour and optimism, could have dared to hope. In England alone, where Shelley's genius was on tip-toe for its flight, there were at that moment, unknown to the world, and unknown to themselves, Darwin, Carlyle, MiU, Newman, Gladstone, Macaulay, Cobden, Dickens, Tennyson and Browning.

The work of all these men taken together was to give our English world ' another heart and other pulses. But the strangest, if not the richest, handful of fate's hidden treasures was ripening beneath the Italian sky. In the year that Keats wrote there might have been seen in the harbour of Nice then the ItaUan city of Nizza a sailor's boy of ten years old, playing amid the cordage of his father's vessel — by name Giuseppe Garibaldi.

A hun- dred miles further along the Riviera, in a doctor's house, in one of those narrow, picturesque alleys that crowd the hillside above the busy port of Genoa, was another boy of twelve, Giuseppe Mazzini. These two Josephs, whom neither birth nor lavour had placed above their brethren, were destined to place themselves among the great Four who liberated Italy.

And it was these two sons of the people who were to make that liberation worthy of the Muse, raising the story of Italian freedom to a pinnacle of history far above common nationalist struggles, which after a few centuries are forgotten by all save students. The sailor's and the doctor's sons made the history of Italy's Resurrection a part of the imperishable and inter- national poetry of the European races.

And, as regards their effect upon their own time, if they did not actually create, at least they ennobled and intensified, the Hberal forces which it was given to one wiser and more cunning to wield. For there was already in the world, in , another boy, a nobleman's son, by name Camillo Cavour. The fourth of the great liberators, the man whom these three were between them to make King of Italy, was not yet bom. So Keats prophesied, and shortly after died in Rome. And still, over the plains and mountain roads of Italy, the Austrians in their white coats and shakos moved unceasingly, on their fruitless, mechanical task of repression ; stared at with a vague but growing antipathy by the common people, with horror by Shelley, and with disgust by Byron ; ' ' Byron to John Murray, Ravenna, February i6, In such a world, Mazzini, Garibaldi, and Cavour grew up, each among his fellows.

Giuseppe Garibaldi was bom at Nice, in a house by the sea shore, on July 4, , as a subject of the great Emperor. On Napoleon's fall he became, as did Mazzini in Genoa, a subject of the restored royal house of Piedmont, which afterwards condemned him to death for treason in , was obUged to hand over his native province to France in i, and in the same year received Sicily and Naples at his hands. The inhabitants of Nice were in part French and in part Italian by race.

But Garibaldi's family was pure ItaHan,' having come from Chiavari beyond Genoa, about thirty years before he was bom. Like Hans Luther, Domenico Garibaldi gave his son a better education than his slender means could well afford. But he was buying costly seed for a stony soil, and it was with difficulty that Giuseppe's parents and masters managed, until he was fifteen, to keep him intermittently at his desk. For there were the mountains behind the town, where he roamed truant, always put in my opinion of the German and Austrian scoundrels : there is not an Italian who loathes them more than I lo.

Forty years on, a playmate of Garibaldi described his recollections of these old days : — 'Though Peppino Giuseppe was a bright, brave lad who planned all sorts of adventures, played truant when he could get the loan of a gun or coax one of the fishermen to take him in their boat, went oyster-trawling, never missed the tunny festival at ViUafranca, or the sardine hauls at Limpia, he was often thoughtful and silent, and when he had a book that interested him would he under the ohve trees for hours reading, and then it was no use to try to make him join any of our schemes for mischief.

He had a beautiful voice, and knew all the songs of the sailors and peasants, and a good many French ones besides. Even as a boy we all looked up to him and chose him our umpire, while the little ones regarded him as their natural protector. He was the strongest and most enduring swimmer I ever knew, and a very fish in water.

He was taught a httle Latin, which he afterwards forgot. See also his own Memorie, Mario's informant stale that the first of the sixteen occasions on which he saved human life from drowning was when he was eight years old and saved a washerwoman who had fallen into a deep ditch! Gutrzoni, ii. Rule of the Monk, i. His love of the English became with him a romantic jmsslon, answering to his hatred of priests. Since it did not require much apphcation for a Nizzardo to read French almost as well as ItaUan, he was enabled to taste Voltaire and to commit some of his verses to memory.

But he loved better those of Ugo Foscolo, the liberal poet of his own race and epoch, whose glorious Unes were often on his lips from the be- ginning to the end of his career, and whose melody often soothed him in hours of pain. Garibaldi's companions in South America observed that ' music and poetry had a magical power over him. In short he had acquired just enough book learning to feed his naturally freedom-loving, romantic and poetical disposition, but not enough to chasten it, or to train his mind to wide understanding and deep reflection. But they had entered on an unequal contest, for not only had they no moral case the father being himself a sailor , but they had to contend against a character which, when roused, was the most obstinate in Europe, and a nature whereof every part was united in rebellion against the It is to be remembered that he was principally conversant with two classes of our countrymen, the sea-going population and the active sympathisers with Italy.

As to his knowledge of English, it was a late growth. When he was first in North America, in , he tells us he only 'knew a few words of English. Spence Watson says that when he was at Newcastle, a few years later, ' he spoke English,' but it was still ' very imperfect. And there was yet a third party in the family disputes, the sea, always present, with voice and look encouraging the rebel. At the age of fifteen Garibaldi took the decisive step. Let him tell the story in his own most characteristic fashion : 'Tired of school, and unable to endure a sedentary life, I propounded one day to some companions of my own age, to run away to Genoa, without any definite plan, but meaning in effect to seek our fortune.

No sooner said than done, we seized a boat, embarked some provisions and fishing-tackle, and sailed eastward. We were already off Monaco, when a vessel sent by my good father overhauled us and brought us back deeply humiliated. An Abb6 had revealed our flight. See what a coincidence! An Abb6, the embryo of a priest, perhaps saved me, and I am so ungrateful as to persecute these poor priests! All the same, a priest is an impostor, and I devote myself to the sacred cult of truth. The last voyage of Shelley was in the same year and on the same coast as the first of Garibaldi. From the age of fifteen to the age of twenty-five he worked his way up from cabin-boy to captain in the merchant craft of Nice.

He apphed himself strenuously to aU the learning that is useful to one who commands a ship ' Mem. I generally quote Werner's translation of the Memcrity though not in this case. But while his powers were developed in a practical direction, his ideas became more than ever romantic. For on what manner of seas, in what ships was he sailing? Not on the well- policed ocean of to-day, more orderly than a London street, but in the Levant during the Greek War of Independ- ence ; in the seas of old romance, of pirates, Turks and revengeful Giaours with long guns and knives, and fierce, dark faces ; among old historic tyrannies cruel as fate, and new-bom hopes of liberty fresh and dear as the morning ; among the sunburnt isles and promontories that roused Byron's jaded passions to splendour, that were even at that moment witnessing his self-immolation and apotheosis ; in those waters 5''oung Garibaldi caught, not from books but from the words, gestures and stories of men in earnest, the only true gospel of Byron, the idea that was constructive of the coming epoch — the belief that it is better to die for freedom than to live a slave.

In outward appearance, too, the crews and the ships with which Garibaldi sailed had about them aU the colour, poetry and grace of the old world. From his own loving recollections of the ship in which he made his first voyage, it would seem that she bore little resemblance to the famous paddle-steamers that long afterwards took him and his Thousand to Sicily : ' How beautiful wert thou, O bark " Costanza," whereon Mario, Supp.

How gracefuUy thy San Remo sailors, true types of our brave Ligurians, swimg themselves about. With what delight I sought the forecastle to hear their songs of the people, their harmonious choruses! They sang of love, and softened or excited me with an emotion that I was then too young to understand. Who was there to tell us young men that there was an Italy, a country to avenge, to redeem? With the priests as our only instructors! His father and mother were genuinely pious and indifferently conservative, and the Nizzard sailors had not been touched by Carbonarism.

It was on his voyages in the Levant that he first came across men with the passion for liberty, and it was beyond the sea that he first met Italian patriots, exiles who instructed him that he had a country, and that she bled. He, too, like these Greeks, had a country for which to fight. What a thought! Nay, what a passion! It seized him in early youth, like first love — the revelation of Ufe. Henceforth he was a man devoted, with an aim ahead that had in it nothing of self.

Italy first, Italy last, and always Italy! Nor till the day of his death did his zeal and love once waver. He believed in Italy as the Saints beheved in God. The second of his numerous voyages was a short one, coasting along Italy in his father's own httle craft [tartana. They touched in the Papal States, and Domenico took his boy to see Rome. Little did the good man know what he was doing The emotion with which the most poetically ' Mem.

The system of clerical education and espionage was one of the reasons why liberal ideas made so little headway in the territories of Piedmont before Marzini began the ' Youag Italy 'movement of That emotion was only intensified by memory and years of longing in exile ; it became inextricably associated with political ideas which were, one suspects, not quite so fuUy developed in the mind of the youth at eighteen as the man afterwards thought.

The second time that he saw the city was more than twenty years later, when, in , he came armed to defend her. Then another eighteen years went by, and he saw her once more, from afar, in the Mentana campaign, but could not enter. Finally, as an old man, he followed in, when Victor Emmanuel had opened the way. And now, from his pedestal on the Janiculum, he seems to take his fill of the sight, of which he dreamed all his life long.

At the age of twenty-four February he qualified officially as a merchant captain. But those were not times when such a man as Garibaldi had now become would long pursue a peaceful calling under a despotic Government. It was the era of the English Reform Bill ; of the Revolution that finally drove the Bourbons from France ; of the Carbonaro risings in Central Italy, associated in history with the name of the patriot Ciro Menotti.

It was once agaiu a moment such as had seemed to Wordsworth, when it was ' a joy to be alive ' — though there ' Mem. II, Sec Rult of the Monk, i. The Austrians put down the momentarily successful revolutions in Central Italy, with the usual hecatomb of martyrs. Brave Menotti was hanged The back-wash of these great events and movements of Western Europe met Garibaldi far across the waters of the Levant.

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In the young captain fell in with a group of Saint-Simonians, exiled from France, who indoctrinated him with their gentle revolutionary mysticism. Men who had never learnt from the Carbonari anything more definite than a passion for hberty, now heard of Itahan unity, of democracy, of social reform. But the Mazzinian cult was more than a political programme, it was a reUgious and ethical movement, compeUing men to a new Ufe of self-sacrifice.

It was as a pubHshing agency for its Chief that the ' Young Italy Asso- ciation ' did its great work. As a society for organising revolutions it was even more futile than the old Carbonari. The form of democratic government, he said, must be republican. Now, in the 'thirties constitutional monarchy was impossible for Italy, because there was no constitutional monarch ; Cavour and Victor Emmanuel had not yet appeared, and indeed the first efforts of ' Young Italy ' were actually directed against the House of Savoy, in whose Kingdom of Piedmont the movement had its birth.

Victor Emmanuel's father, King Charles Albert, though he hated the Austrian and had visions of the ghost of Italy, had also strong clerical leanings, and was in his poUtical nature autocratic rather than constitutional ; at present he was fully in the league of Italian Governments, for the surveillance and suppression of Liberalism. But if ever Charles Albert was met by the spirit of revolt, he could show himself as cruel as a Bourbon, though, with character- istic uncertainty of purpose, the mystic aUowed his con- science to brood over his cruelties even while he was committing them.

There were hopes that the soldiers would join the rebellion, for in the Piedmontese army, as in the French army of that date, there were Uberal elements, originating in that contempt for the ancien regime and its representatives which victory under Napoleon's banners had taught to the Italian veterans. If in youth one has trampled on kings and monks, from Lisbon to Moscow, one does not crouch to them readily in later years.

Besides, many to whom Napoleon had opened the career had been degraded in rank after the Restoration. Although Garibaldi undertook his first venture against tyranny with the readiness that he so often showed when cLsked to run his head against a wall, this was not one of those walls that so miraculously fell before him.

The first time he ever read his name in print was when, on reaching Marseilles, he saw in the papers that the Piedmontese Government had condemned him to death, a proceeding which it is difficult to blame if we consider that he was known to the authorities only as a sailor who had entered the Royal service in order to betray it. When we think that if a few turns of the dice had gone differently, the father of Victor Emmanuel would have succeeded in snuffing out the fives of Mazzini and Garibaldi at this point, we may see that history is something far more wonderful than a process of evolution which science can estimate or predict.

When, in , Garibaldi came to our island to receive, as the redeemer of Italy and the chosen hero of England, an ovation so tremendous that it frightened Europe and even Palmerston himself, on one of those festal occasions he ' looked through all the roaring and the wreaths ' where sat a certain patient, neglected figure, come among the rest to honour him, and his heart went back thirty years to the days when, as a young merchant captain, he had first seen Mazzini at Marseilles.

There is a man here amongst us who has rendered the greatest services to our country and to the cause of freedom. When I was a youth and had only aspirations towards good, I sought for one able to act as the guide and counsellor of my youthful years. I sought such a guide as one who is athirst seeks the water-spring. I found this man. He alone watched when all around slept, he alone kept and fed the sacred flame.

This man is Joseph Mazzini: he is my friend and teacher. During the same visit of , they met in the Isle of Wight. Shortly after the fiasco at Genoa, he found it best to carry his fortunes to South America, whither, then, as now, Italians, discontented with their prospects at home, often betook themselves. The Pilgrim Fathers of that epoch, who showed modem Italy the way to her New World, were not numerous, but they were choice. Many were political exiles. As the friend and hero of these, Garibaldi there learned war and leadership : Having first within his ken What a man might do with men. Scarcely had he landed in South America when he formed one of the great friendships of his youth with the Genoese exile Rossetti.

They became hke David and Jonathan. Having set up together in Rio Janeiro as mer- chants, for nine months they traded in a little vessel along the eastern coasts of the Continent. But Garibaldi was already discontented with ' the inglorious arts of peace. He and his friend Rossetti armed a old patois of the lagoons of Genoa.

It affected Mazzini, lO whom it brought back scenes of their early career, when the inspiration of Italian freedom first began.

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Guerzoni, ii. But they soon changed it for a larger ship which they had captured, and continued the struggle with ever -increasing success. Gradually Garibaldi's warfare became amphibious, and before long, celebrated as he was for his exploits at sea, he was yet more celebrated as a guerilla chief, leading bodies of a few hundred, sometimes a few thousand men, across the vast upland plains and forests and river gorges of the Continent, that lay between the Atlantic and the Parana River. The cavalry, who were often the more numerous arm, were natives of the wilderness, horsemen bom and bred, and magnificently mounted ; hardy and resourceful as the Boers, they had more dash, and hked close quarters.

Their favourite weapon was the lance ; though many used the sabre, together with the lasso or the bolas, hunting the enemy and casting at him, as they had learnt to do in pursuit of the swift-footed ostrich. Garibaldi, after he had faced the French and Austrian armies, declared that no civihsed troops were such skilled horsemen, so Spartan in their endurance of a ' Mem. Hudson, 36, See also note, p. For the provinces over which Garibaldi ranged and fought, for the most part consist of an undulating plateau, raised high on a barrier of precipices above the sea level, cut by deep river gorges filled with forests for refuge, and traversed by ridges whence a soldier's eye could scan vast tracts of country and locate enemies and friends.

In his old age, as he sat brooding, restless, discontented with the adoration of his countrymen whom he had freed, and the applause of the world whose heart he had made to throb, the old man looked back with fond regret on those days of youth and strength and speed, on the still virgin plains, among the noble wild animals, and the noble wild men who had followed him in war : ' The vast undulating plains of Uruguay he says present a landscape entirely new to a European, and more particularly to an Italian, accustomed from childhood to a country where every inch of ground is covered with houses, hedges, or other labour of man's hands.

The plains are covered with short grass except along the course of the arroyos streamlets , or in the canadas dips in the ground overgrown with maciega a tall, reed-like grass. The banks of the rivers and the sides of the arroyos are covered with tine woods, often containing timber of a tolerable size. These lands, so favoured by nature, are inhabited chiefly by horses and cattle, antelopes and ostriches. Man, here a veritable centaur, rarely visits them. L chaps, xxv. His lips have never winced at the iron bit, and his glossy back, never crossed by a rider, shines like a diamond in the sun.

His flowing, uncombed mane floats over his flanks when, assembling in his pride the scattered mares, or flying from human pursuit, he outruns the wind. To-day, December 20, , bending with stiffened limbs over the fire, I recall with emotion those scenes of the past, when life seemed to smile on me, in the presence of the most magnificent spectacle I ever beheld. I for my part am old and worn. Where are those splendid horses? Where are the bulls, the antelopes, the ostriches which beautified and enlivened those pleasant hills?

Their descendants no doubt will still roam over those fertile pastures, and will do so till steam and iron come to increase the riches of the soil, but destroy those marvellous scenes of nature. Though he lived in the nineteenth ' He was really about thirty when he first visited these upland plateaus. Here is an account of a typical hunt after the South American ostrich rkea , Robertson' s Paraguay, i. Irretrievably entangled, down came the giant bird, rolling, fluttering, panting, and, being in an instant despatched, the company of the field stripped him of his feathers and stuck them in their girdles.

He and his followers in Italy in 49 wore ostrich feathers in their hats, perhaps in memory of their friend the rkea of South America. They consist of three round heavj' stones, each about the siie of a large orange, covered with hide, and attached to three plaited thongs, which diverge from each other, and form a centre, every thong being about five feet in length. These, when thrown with unerring aim, as they almost invariably are, at the legs of an animal at fiill speed, twist and entangle themselves around them, aod bring him with a terrible impulse to the grouiid.

He never had educa- tion, either intellectual, diplomatic, or political ; even his military training was that of the guerilla chief ; nor, till he was past learning, did he experience the ordinary life of the settled citizen. Though all must acknowledge that, by the secret ordering of the mysteries of birth, he had been created with more in him of the divine than any training can give, yet we cannot fail to perceive, in stud5dng the slight records of the first forty years of his life, how much the natural tendencies of his genius, in their strength and in their weakness, were enhanced by circumstance.

And so, when in he returned to fight for Italy, in the full strength of matured manhood — at the time of life when Cromwell first drew sword — he had been sheltered, ever since he went to sea at fifteen, from every influence which might have turned him into an ordinary man or an ordinary soldier. He had had two schools — the seas of romance, and the plateaus of South America. He had lived on ship-board and in the saddle. The man who loved Italy as even she has seldom been loved, scarcely knew her. The soldier of modem enhghtenment was himself but dimly enlightened.

Rather, his mind was Uke a vast sea cave, filled with the murmur of dark waters at flow and the stirring of nature's greatest forces, fit here and there by streaks of glorious sunshine bursting in through crevices hewn at random in its rugged sides. He had all the distinctive qualities of the hero, in their highest possible degree, and in their very simplest form. These qualities, perhaps, could not have existed in a degree so pre-eminent, in the person either of a sage or of a saint.

Without, on the one hand, the child-Uke sim- plicity that often degenerated into folly, and on the other hand, the full store of common human passions that made him one with the multitude, he could never have been so ignorant of despair and doubt, so potent to overawe his enemies, to spread his own infectious daring among his followers and to carry men blindfold into enterprises which would have been madness under any other chief. Moltke could no more have conquered SicUy with such means, than Garibaldi could have planned the battle of Sedan.

Such was the hero in victory. But this book is a study of the hero in defeat ; it is the story of Garibaldi in , and before it can be told, it is necessary to introduce the heroine, his Anita. It was part of Italy's good luck in Garibaldi, that, thanks to his splendid physique and to his singular fortune in the thick of battle, he survived the perils of these dozen years of buccaneering and guerilla war, under conditions that would have killed a weaker man, even without the inter- vention of a bullet.

Rossetti, and many exiles worthy of her love and gratitude, perished one after the other by shipwreck or by the sword, and their bones were lost in the ocean, or buried in the strange land. Garibaldi grieved deeply tiU the end of his life that their graves were unmarked, and their memories unknown to the country for whom they had given up all and gone to die so far away. They were, indeed, more truly her martyrs than martyrs of those Re- ' Ferri N.

He survived the dangers, not only of ship- wreck and of battle, of starvation and of exposure in those vast unreclaimed lands, but even the tender mercies of his enemies ; once, early in his South American career, he endured two hours of torture, hung up by his wrists from the beams in the prison ceiling, while the jeering populace looked on through the doorway. Their forgotten names are not inscribed, like those of their successors, on the municipal tablets of famous Italian cities, for they lived in days when to love Italy was to bum with unrequited love.

Garibaldi had no fear of death, but he had a poetic horror of the oblivion that too soon overtakes the memory of the brave. Thrown ashore, in the Brazihan Province of Santa Caterina, he and his amphi- bious following at once took part as soldiers in the capture of the important town of Laguna ; they were welcomed as liberators by the Repubhcan inhabitants, and Garibaldi was sent on board the captured fleet of the Imperialists, where it rode in the lagoon that gives its name to the city.

It was in the year He paced up and down the deck of his newly acquired flagship, ' the top-sail schooner Itaparica, of seven guns,' but he was in no victor's mood. The recent loss of so many friends had struck him with melancholy, and he began to feel the loneliness of his life. His heart turned to the natural remedy.

The ladies of the Central States of South America, both in the towns and in the upy-country ranches, combined many of the exquisite graces of old Spanish refinement and courtesy with the ' AUm. Since this favourable opinion was formed by staid English merchants, who travelled widely in these regions, and had intimate dealings with its inhabitants, it is not surprising to find that it was also the experience of the susceptible and romantic child of the Mediterranean. He felt that he must now win for himself an object on which he could fix his affections. His own artless narrative is alone worthy to introduce Anita : ' The loss of Luigi, Edoardo, and others of my countrymen, left me utterly isolated ; I felt quite alone in the world.

I needed a human heart to love me, one that I could keep always near me. I felt that unless I found one immediately, life would become intolerable. By chance I cast my eyes towards the houses of the Barra, a tolerably high hill on the south side of the entrance to the lagoon, where a few simple and picturesque dwellings were visible. Outside one of these, by means of the telescope I usually carried with me when on deck, I espied a young woman, and forthwith gave orders for the boat to be got out, as I wished to go ashore.

At least she knew well enough who Garibaldi was, and what deeds he had done ; for he was already to the rebels of Brazil what he afterwards became to his countrjnnen in Europe, and he had just taken part in the liberation of Anita's native town. Her name was Anita Riberas ; she was a maiden of eighteen years of age, and her father had betrothed, or, at any rate, promised her, to a suitor whom she could not love. At last 1 greeted her by saying, Tu devi esser mia, " Thou oughtest to be mine. Yet my insolence was magnetic. I had formed a tie, pronounced a decree, which death alone could annul.

Gari- baldi's rash pledging of himself for life to one whom he knew so little is consonant with his character, and has a close parallel in an action of his later life which chanced to be as unfortunate as this chanced to be happy. He read in Anita's face and bearing the clear imprint of all those Amazonian quaUties of mind and body that made her, in fact, the only possible wife worthy, or able, to bear him company in flood and field, and mate his adventurous spirit at its own level.

She, a woman most direct and valiant, highly strung, too, by the prospect of the forced marriage that awaited her, suddenly saw face to face the Hero of her time and coimtry, with his Uon-like head and flowing mane of gold, come as her deliverer, armed with the irresistible might of his will. Written and oral traditions alike record the pecuUar manner in which the Ught of those eyes changed when he was deeply moved.

General Mitre, who knew him in his South American days, wrote of him thus : ' His face was quiet and grave, and his smile appeared on it without altering that character. His blue eyes alone revealed his emotions, by taking on a dark colour like that of the sea, which while it remains quiet nurses the tempest which is brooding in its depths.

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There was no hope that her other suitor would forgo his claim, favoured as it was by her father, and since in those rough times and lands possession was nine points of the law. Garibaldi, a few nights later, came back and carried her off on board his ship, under the protection of his guns and mariners. The story of that cutting-out expedition has never been told in any further detail, nor is it possible to say whether secrecy sufficed or whether force was necessary.

Such was the beginning of a love story of nearly ten years of married Hfe which none of the world's famous legends of love surpass in romance and beauty. But it closed in the tragedy among the marshes of Ravenna. The horrors of the hour when she died in his arms, a martyr to Italy and to him, for awhile darkened his spirit, so that he failed to see how splendid he had made her hfe, how bright was the place her hfe and death would take in his country's history. In this mood he bitterly reproached himself — but no one clearly knows for what : ' I had come upon a forbidden treasure, but yet a treasure of great price.

If guilt there was, it was mine alone. And there was guilt. On the day when, vainly hoping to bring her back to life, I clasped the hand of a corpse, with bitter tears of despair, then I knew the evil I had wrought. I sinned greatly, but I sinned alone.

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Anita Riberas was about to be married against her will to a man whom she did not love, so she was carried off by Garibaldi, and had a perfect right to go with him. But there would seem to be some mysterious event, hinted at by Garibaldi in these words, which he was never willing to explain. Neither of these remarkable persons could ever have married any one else on equal terms. The elopement with Anita was the Sicihan expedition of Garibaldi's private hfe ; and for Italy, too, he had won a heroine and a story.

She was not by birth or nature an Italian, but had in her veins the fighting blood of the race that ruled on horse- back the deseri:s of Brazil. It had been the custom of her father to take her about with him on his fishing and hunting expeditions. See Giunoni, i. Francis of. She was an excellent mother, except that she finally chose to die for her husband rather than to live for her children. Garibaldi's companions in arms, the cultivated Euro- peans in the Italian campaign, no less than the fighting men in South America, adored her, when she talked with them round the camp fires, when she nursed them in sickness, and when she Tcdlied their breaking ranks on the field of battle.

So these two sailed away, and spent their honeymoon in amphibious warfare along the coast and in the lagoons, fighting at close quarters against desperate odds. In her first severe action Anita was knocked down on deck by a cannon-ball, on the top of three dead men. Her husband rushed to her side, but she was already on her feet, and as active as though nothing had happened to discompose her. She looked upon battles as a pleasure, and the hardships of camp life as a pastime; so that, however things might turn out, the future smiled on us, and the vast American deserts which unrolled themselves before our gaze seemed all the more delight- ful and beautiful for their wildness.

This book iv. In one of their earhest land battles, which went ill for the men of Rio Grande, she was captured by the ImperiaUsts, and beheved that Garibaldi was among the slain.

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She obtained leave to search for him, and turned over one corpse after another, expecting in each dead face to see the features of the man whom she loved. When she found that he had not been left on the field, she determined to effect her own escape and rejoin him at all hazards. Shpping away unnoticed from among her drunken guards, she plunged into the tropical forest on a high-spirited horse which she had obtained from a peasant, crossed sixty miles of the most dangerous deserts in America, alone, without food, swimming great rivers in flood by holding on to her horse, riding through hostile pickets at the passes of the hills and the fords of the streams, who took the wild Amazon for an apparition and ran away in panic.

After four days she reached Lages, where her husband soon joined her. Among such scenes their first child was bom ; they called him Menotti, after the martyred leader of the Italian revolutions of Between their elopement and his birth they had had no rest and no civiUsed life, but had been wandering over the sea and the wilderness. Anita had been present at several battles, and endured on horseback all the worst hardships of campaigning up to the time of her confinement September 16, Next, she had to fly into the wilderness with her infant of twelve days upon the saddle-bow.

She and Garibaldi spent the rainy season wandering, with dwindling forces, in a state little better than that of outlaws, in the depth of the primaeval forest, where alone they were safe from the victorious armies of BrazU. Food ran short, for in the forest the lasso was of no avail ; the rain fell on them unceasingly, whether ' Denkwurdigkeiten, ii. He had told the lame story in Anita's presence in July see p. In the steepest parts of the track, and when crossing the torrents, I carried him, then three months old, slung from my neck by a handkerchief, trying to keep him warm against my breast and with my breath.

Remembering that Rio Grande was not the land that had a Hen on his hfe and family and everything that was his, he determined, at the beginning of , to return to civi- Usation, and seek a peaceful home in Monte Video, the capital of the Republic of Uruguay, set at the point where the ocean-going ships enter the Rio de la Plata. He managed, on his way thither, to lose a fine herd of cattle, the wages of his six years' warfare, arrived at Monte Video with nothing in the world besides three hundred cattle hides, not a dear commodity in those regions, and was fain to earn a precarious hvelihood for his family as shipbroker and teacher of mathematics.