• Denaro e spada
• 1799-1848
• 1848-1861
• 1861-1870
• La guerriglia
• I Borbone
• L'Esercito
• Sulphur War
• Gladstone
• I Banchi
• Ferrovie
• Napoli
• Patria e Matria
• Indipendenza

• Macroregione
• Mediterraneo
• Meridionali
• Stampa
• Nino Gernone
• Zenone di Elea
• Angelo D'Ambra
• Grafici
• Anni 2010-2013
• Arte e cultura
• Eventi
• GnuPG

• eleaml.org
• nazionali.org
• eleaml.altervista

 

CHAPTER I  THE POPES AND ITALY  § 2. The Formation of Christendom § 3. The Popes and the Italian Republics § 4. Four Centuries of Papal Rule	CHAPTER V  MAZZINI AND THE ITALIAN MOVEMENT  § 1. The Giovine Italia § 2. The Invasion of Savoy (1833—1834)  § 3. Moderates and Mazzinians (1834—1846)
CHAPTER II  THE FIRST YEARS OF THE REVOLUTION  § 1. Pius VI. and the French Republic (1789—1799) § 2. Italy under the First Empire (1800—1815) § 3. Italy and the Congress of Vienna	CHAPTER VI  INSURRECTION  § 1. Pius IX. 1846—1847 § 2. The Year of Revolutions § 3. The Struggle with Austria § 4. The Revolution at Rome
CHAPTER III CARBONARISM  § 1. The Organization of the Carbonari § 2. The First Outbreak (1815—1821)	CHAPTER VII  DEFEAT  § 1. Novara 1849  § 2. Sicily § 3. The Roman Republic
CHAPTER IV  THE FAILURES OF THE CARBONARI  § 1. The Ten Years’ Truce (1821—1831)  § 2. The Revolt of Central Italy (1831)	APPENDIX  No. I No. II ---------NOTE---------

CHAPTER I

THE POPES AND ITALY

§ 1. The Rise of the Temporal Power

It has been the wonderful destiny of Italy to be for more than two thousand years the centre of the civilized world. From the days when the Eagles of the old Republic flew forth to the conquest of the East and West down to our own time, all nations have looked to Rome as to a mighty power ruling a world-wide Ti empire. First it was the empire of material force, a dominion built up by military aggression, and sustained by a vast military organization. But even that old empire was a glorious one. Civilization followed in the path of the Eagles of Rome. Her power secured a general peace, except on the frontiers of the most distant provinces; and under her protection commerce, learning, literature, and art flourished and spread throughout the world.

It was indeed a purely pagan civilization, but it prepared the way for Christianity. Such, it would seem, was the real mission of ancient Rome in the decrees of Providence. The nations of the earth looked to the Seven-Hilled City as their head; and when Christianity was firmly established there, it was thence that the missionaries went forth who won all the West from the dominion of paganism. They found willing disciples everywhere within the limits of the Roman Empire, but for centuries Christianity was almost wholly unknown beyond it. For a time the Caesars struggled against the new religion. It denied their divinity; it told of a code of law superior to that of the state, and claiming obedience from every man. They feared this strange doctrine; they strove to trample it out, to deluge it in blood; and the martyrs died beneath the axe or sword, at the stake or upon the cross, in the solitude of the prison, or before the eyes of thousands in the amphitheatre, because, while they were willing to give unto Caesar that which was Caesar’s, they refused to give him also what belonged to God.

But at length the battle ended in the triumph of the truth, and the world saw a Christian holding the sceptre of the Caesars and bearing the Cross upon his victorious standard.

He wished to inaugurate a new era, to found a Christian empire with a Christian capital, and at his bidding Constantinople arose on the shores of the Bosphorus, a city unpolluted by paganism, and which he fondly hoped would rule the nations for all time. But he strove in vain to take her supremacy from Rome. With Christianity there had arisen for her a new empire, wider, more glorious, more enduring than the first, no longer a dominion established by force and upheld by the sword, but one which was far more powerful, for it ruled over the minds and hearts of men. It was the spiritual power of the Roman pontiffs, the source of all that is great and good in the history of Italy and of the world.

From the day when Constantine withdrew from Rome, the decline of the Western Empire began; and as this old dominion passed away, sapped within by decay and weakness, and shaken from without by the attacks of the barbarians, a new power was placed in the hands of the Popes, subsidiary to and distinct from their spiritual authority, but at the same time essential to it, as the only possible guarantee for their perfect freedom in its exercise. This was the Temporal Power. Historians and archaeologists have long disputed as to the period from which it may be dated. The volumes which have been written on the subject would form a large library; but we may say that the dispute is one about a name rather than a reality. We need not enter into the question of when it was fully constituted, and assumed the form in which it came down to our own days. It is enough to know that the Popes exercised the authority of temporal princes centuries before the time of Charlemagne, and that their authority as such had its rise, not in the grants of the Carlovingian kings, but arose from the current of events, which seemed to conspire under the guidance of an over-ruling Providence to give this safeguard to the authority of the great High Priest of Christendom.

We may trace the germs of the Temporal Power existing even in the shade of the catacombs. There is ample proof that even in the days of persecution the wealth and possessions of the Christians of Rome were as absolutely at the command of the Popes as if they were their own property; and, as the Church obtained freedom, the same spirit which gave rise to this state of things prompted the Emperors and their Christian subjects to bestow rich gifts in money and lands upon the See of Rome. Thus the Popes gradually acquired estates and territories under the name of “patrimonies.” and some of these were districts of great extent, which they governed through their officers, exercising all the rights of kings. It was in this way that they acquired and ruled before the barbarian invasion the city of Genoa and the Riviera; and they owned rich possessions in Sicily, Sardinia and Corsica, Calabria and Dalmatia, Gaul and Egypt. In the long decline of the Western Empire, when Rome had almost ceased to be the capital, and the Cresars of the West held their courts at Treves and Milan, and later on when the barbarians had passed the Alps and were revelling in the spoils of Italy, it was to their pontiffs that the Roman people looked for aid. When pestilence and famine devastated the land, their well-filled granaries gave forth com, their treasuries poured out gold to save the perishing people. When the tempest of war had passed over Italy, their wealth helped to restore the ruined cities, to redeem the captives, to assist the plundered people in their poverty; and as the reins of empire fell from the feeble hands of the degenerate successors of the Caesars, the Popes began to assume that rule over Rome which they exercised for more than a thousand years. They were not prompted by ambition, it was forced upon them by the course of events.

St. Leo the Great was the first of those heroic pontiffs who stand out so nobly in the annals of Italy as the saviours and defenders of their country. There is no more glorious scene in history than his meeting with Attila, the Scourge of God, on the banks of the Mincio, when the most terrible of the leaders of the Huns, yielding before the mighty words of the successor of St Peter, led back through the passes of the Alps his disappointed army, to whom he had promised the plunder of Rome and Italy. Again we see

the same Pope meeting the Vandal Genseric under the walls of Rome, and extorting from him a promise that no blood should be shed in the conquered city. Later still it was at the intercession of the Archdeacon Pelagius that Totila spared the Roman people. Pope Agapitus saved them from the swords of the Goths, and Pope John shielded them from the tyranny of Narses.

In a still wider sense St. Gregory the Great became at once the saviour and the ruler of Rome. To him, not Italy alone, but Europe owes a deep debt of gratitude. When he received the tiara, Rome and Italy had sunk to the lowest stage of misery and misfortune. The years which preceded his pontificate had been marked by repeated outbreaks of pestilence, which, says Muratori, “well nigh reduced the whole country to a desert. Such was the mortality that in many districts nearly all the inhabitants were carried off, nor was there any one left to reap the harvests or gather in the vintage.” Then the ferocious Alboin crossed the Alps at the head of the Lombards. The troops of the Greek exarch of Ravenna, not daring to meet him in the field, kept within the walled towns; while in the open country he swept all before him with fire and sword. Gibbon has well described the state of Rome at this period. “The lofty tree,” he says, “was deprived of its leaves and branches, and left to wither on the ground. The ministers of command and the messengers of victory no longer met on the Appian or Flaminian Way: and the hostile approach of the Lombards was often felt and continually feared. The Campagna was reduced to the state of a dreary wilderness, in which the land was barren, the water impure, and the air infectious. Curiosity and ambition no longer attracted the nations to the capital of the world, but if chance or necessity directed thither the steps of a wandering stranger, he contemplated with horror the vacancy and solitude of the city.... Like Thebes, or Babylon, or Carthage, the name of Rome might have been erased from the earth, if the city had not been animated by a vital principle which again restored her to honour and dominion.”

The reign of Gregory was one long series of misfortunes, under which, but for him, Rome would assuredly have perished. The people of Italy had to suffer in succession from famine, pestilence, and fearful storms. At the same time the Lombards were threatening or ravaging the country, while the exarchs of Ravenna and the emperors of Constantinople looked on, powerless or unwilling to assist their Italian subjects, though Gregory again and again by letters and envoys appealed to them for aid, before he took on himself the mighty task of striving to heal the wounds of Italy. Gibbon, at once one of the greatest authorities on the history of the period and one of the bitterest opponents of the Popes, has given a graphic account of the labours of St. Gregory and their results. We prefer to let him tell the story, for no one can say the words are those of a partisan.

“The misfortunes of Rome,” he says, “involved the Apostolic Pastor in the business of peace and war; he sends governors to towns and cities, issues orders to the generals; relieves the public distress; treats of peace and the ransom of captives with the enemy.

“The Church of Rome, as has been formerly observed, was endowed with ample possessions in Italy, Sicily, and the most distant provinces, and her agents, who were frequently sub-deacons, had acquired a civil and even a criminal jurisdiction over their tenants and husband-men. The successor of St. Peter administered his patrimony with the temper of a vigilant and moderate landlord, and the epistles of Gregory are filled with salutary instructions to abstain from doubtful and vexatious lawsuits; to preserve the integrity of weights and measures; to grant every reasonable delay, and to reduce the capitation of the slaves and the glebe. The rent or the produce of these estates was transported to the mouth of the Tiber at the risk and expense of the Pope; in the use of wealth he acted like a faithful steward of the Church and the poor, and liberally applied to their wants the inexhaustible resources of abstinence and order. The voluminous accounts of his receipts and disbursements were kept above three hundred years in the Lateran as a model of Christian economy.

“On the four great festivals he divided their quarterly allowance to the clergy, to his domestics, to the monasteries, to the churches, the places of burial, the alms-houses and the hospitals of Rome and the rest of the diocese. On the first day of every month he distributed to the poor, according to the season, their stated portion of corn, wine, cheese, vegetables, oil, fish, fresh provisions, clothes and money; and his treasures were continually summoned to satisfy in his name the extraordinary demands of indigence and merit.

“The instant distress of the sick and helpless, of strangers and pilgrims, was relieved by the bounty of each day and of each hour; nor would the Pontiff indulge in a frugal repast, till he had sent the dishes from his own table to some objects deserving of his compassion. The misery of the times had reduced the nobles and matrons of Rome to accept without a blush the benevolence of the Church: three thousand virgins received their food and raiment from the hands of their benefactor, and many bishops of Italy escaped from the barbarians to the threshold of the Vatican. Gregory might justly be styled the Father of his country; and such was the extreme sensibility of his conscience, that for the death of a beggar who had perished in the streets, he interdicted himself for several days from the exercise of sarcerdotal functions.

“Gregory awakened the emperor (Mauritus), ex posed the guilt and incapacity of the exarch and his inferior ministers; complained that the veterans were withdrawn from Rome for the defence of Spoleto; encouraged the Italians to defend their cities and altars, and condescended in the crisis of danger to name the tribunes, and to direct the operations of the provincial troops.

“If we may credit his own declarations, it would have been easy for Gregory to exterminate the Lombards by their domestic factions, without leaving a king, a duke, or a count to save that unfortunate nation from the vengeance of their foes. As a Christian he preferred the salutary offices of peace; his mediation appeased the tumult of arms; but he was too conscious of the arts of the Greeks and the passions of the Lombards, to engage his sacred promise for the observance of the truce. Disappointed in the hope of a general and lasting treaty, he presumed to save hi3 country without the consent of the emperor or the exarch.

“The sword of the enemy was suspended over Rome; it was averted by the mild eloquence and seasonable gifts of the Pontiff, who commanded the respect of the heretics and the barbarians. The merits of Gregory were treated by the Byzantine court with reproach and insult; but in the attachment of a grateful people he found the purest reward of a citizen and the best right of a sovereign.”

On the conduct of Gregory at this crisis, the

future, not of Italy alone, but of European civilization depended. Ignorance and barbarism had either enveloped or were fast sweeping down upon the nations of the West, and in the East the Byzantine Empire was sinking into a premature decay. But for his vigorous action, Rome, the source whence the light of religion, learning, and civilization, spread over all the world, would have fallen into the hands of the barbarians, and with it the one centre of recuperative force would have been destroyed.

The successors of St. Gregory steadily pursued the same noble policy which had won for him the love of his people. “A distant and dangerous station,” says Gibbon, “among the barbarians of the West excited the spirit and freedom of the Popes. Their popular election endeared them to the Romans; the public and private indigence was relieved by their ample revenue, and the weakness or neglect of the Greek emperors compelled them to consult ‘ both in peace and war the temporal safety of the city. The same character was adopted by the Italian, the Greek, or the Syrian, who ascended the chair of St. Peter; and after the loss of her legions and provinces, the genius and fortunes of the Popes again restored the supremacy of Rome.”

It was in the eighth century that the temporal power received its next great development. When, in 725, Leo the Isaurian tore down the golden Crucifix erected by Constantine over the great door of the imperial palace, and began a war against holy images and pictures with a Vandalic zeal worthy of a Puritan, the people rose against him in many of the provinces, but it was in Italy that the storm of popular indignation burst forth with the greatest fury. Though Pope Gregory II. did all that was in his power to soothe the feelings of the people, they threw off their allegiance to the Emperor, destroyed his statues, and made an attempt on the life of the Exarch. Leo, believing the first report which reached him, accused the Pontiff of having excited the rising; but Gregory replied by indignantly denying the charge, and telling him that he himself had caused the revolt by his Iconoclastic decree. Six times Leo sent his emissaries to assassinate the Pope, or drag him into exile; but the people rallied round their beloved Pontiff, and protected him. To such an extent was the Emperor carried away by his hatred to Gregory, that he entered into an alliance with Luitprand, the Lombard king,—the barbarians agreeing to besiege Rome, and either kill the Pope or send him a prisoner to Constantinople. Soon the Lombard armies lay around the city; but Gregory, going out fearlessly into their camp, remonstrated with Luitprand, and the Lombard felt the same power which had turned back Attila and stayed the sword of Genseric. He bade his army cease all hostilities against Rome, and after leaving his diadem, mantle, and sword-belt, before the shrine of St. Peter, broke up his camp and marched back to Lombardy.

From this period it might be said that each Pontiff was more truly a king than his predecessor. Their power as princes grew from year to year, and never did sovereigns more worthily hold the sceptre. One might say of each, as it has been said of St. Gregory the Great, that he was the Father of his people; and, with all their power, they took no other title than that which has come down to our own days, and is borne by Pius IX.—servus servorum Dei: the servant of the servants of God.

“Unfortunately for the Emperors of Constantinople,” says Lebeau, (1) speaking of this period, “a virtue the most eminent united to a prudence the most enlightened was at that time seated in the chair of St. Peter. During a period of eighty years, there came a succession of seven Popes as venerable for the sanctity of their lives as they were formidable to their sovereigns on account of their profound wisdom as statesmen—the wisdom of Gregory III., of Zachary, of Stephen II., but above all of Adrian I., a man of a genius as solid as it was comprehensive, a Pope truly worthy of the age of Charlemagne—what a contrast to the frivolity, the headlong violence of Leo the Isaurian, and his son Constantine Copronymus!”

“Although,” says Muratori, “the Greek Emperors still had their ministers at Rome, it would seem that the principal authority of the government was vested in the Pontiffs, who by the force and majesty of their station, and by that escort of virtues with which their character was surrounded, continued to wield a placid sway over the city and dukedom, defending them with vigour from the Lombard grasp whenever occasion required it.”((*)

When at length all aid from Constantinople was at an end, but not until he had appealed in vain to the Emperor for assistance, and pleaded before the Lombard Astolfo at Pavia to spare his people, Pope Stephen crossed the Alps and secured the help of Pepin. When the Franks had driven the Lombards out of the exarch-ate, and only then, the Emperor turned his attention to the affairs of Italy, and his ambassadors begged that Pepin would give back the conquered territory to the Empire. But it was in the cause of the Popes only that the Frankish monarch had entered upon the war. Abandoned by the emperors, they had for more than two centuries governed and defended Rome and central Italy: when they were overrun by the Lombards, they had found the means of recovering them; and now Pepin formally conferred the exarch-ate upon them, declaring to the Byzantine ambassadors that it was only through his love for St. Peter he had risked his life in battle against the Lombards, and that no amount of treasure could induce him to take back what he had once offered to the Prince of the Apostles. (*)

The persecutions which the Popes had suffered at the hands of the Greek Emperors would alone have been sufficient in the eyes of most men to absolve them from their allegiance. But no; though at any moment they could have cut off every trace of the Emperor’s authority, they remained, in name at least, the subjects of the Emperors, until they were at length forced to become independent of them. If we can anywhere trace the hand of Providence in history, assuredly it is in the days when the Popes became kings, the only kings in all Europe ruling by moral influence instead of material force, and ruling solely for their people’s good—in the days when Gregory the Great was compelled to assume regal functions without a regal name; when Leo the Iconoclast placed himself in direct opposition to Gregory II., and the people of Italy rallied round the persecuted Pontiff: when Pope Stephen, after doing all he could to avert it, at length sought help from a foreign sword, and received from Pepin the provinces reconquered from Astolfo. And who that reads the pages of history with a mind unbiassed by prejudice, can fail to see that without this safeguard to their spiritual authority, the Popes could never have fulfilled their mission. Deprived of it, they would have become the slaves of the barbarians, and in later years crouched to some western potentate, even as the Patriarchs of Constantinople became the creatures and slaves of the Emperors, and now yield, a servile obedience to the Russian Czar.

§ 2. The Formation of Christendom

It was not long before the pontifical states found an invader in a sub-Alpine king. No sooner did Didier king of Lombardy hear of the death of Pepin, than hp entered the States of the Church at the head of a large army, carried fire and sword through Umbria and the Marches of Ancona, and leaving strong garrisons to secure the plundered territory, retired to Pavia to spend the winter in his capital. Early in the spring of the following year (773), he took the

field once more; but Pope Adrian had spent the winter in preparation for the defence of Rome. He repaired the walls, barricaded the Vatican, removed their treasures from the Basilicas outside the city, and called the people to arms. From all sides they flocked to the Standard of the Keys, coming, says the annalist, even from beyond the Apennines.

At Viterbo Didier was met by the envoys of Adrian. They told him that if he advanced a step farther into the territory of St. Peter, the sentence of excommunication would be pronounced against him. He had not anticipated meeting with such a resistance on the part of the Pope, and he retired with his army through Tuscany to his kingdom in the north. But while he yielded thus far, and prudently abstained from attacking Rome itself, he steadily refused to evacuate the provinces he had overrun in the preceding year. It was in vain that the Papal Legate and the ambassadors of Charlemagne,—who was determined to maintain the integrity of the territory given by his father to the Popes,—appeared at the Court of Pavia and menaced him with war if he persisted in his usurpation. His reply was a haughty defiance; but the only result of his obstinate violation of the Papal territory was the loss of his kingdom and the extinction of his dynasty. Charlemagne crossed the Alps, scattered the Lombard forces, cleared Umbria and the Marches of the invaders, and while fully confirming the grant of Pepin, added the territories of Didier to his own kingdom.

When Charlemagne visited Rome during this campaign, his first act was one which affords an unmistakable proof that he regarded the Pope as an independent sovereign. Before entering the city, he engaged in a formal treaty with Adrian, by which it was provided that on the one hand he should take no advantage of the gates being opened to receive him, and, on the other, that the Pope should respect the person of the Frankish king, thus placed in his power. Such treaties were customary in those days, when one sovereign visited the states of another. His entry into Rome was like an ancient triumph. He was received by the people with acclamations, as the deliverer of the Pope and the conqueror of the dreaded Lombards.

A few years after Charlemagne returned to Rome. Adrian was no longer there. He had been succeeded by Leo III, a man who with his dignity would seem to have inherited his genius. On Christmas Day, in the year 800, before the eyes of the Roman people in the Lateran Basilica, Pope Leo placed upon the head of Charlemagne the imperial diadem of the West. It was the first great step taken by the Popes in the fulfilment of their mission of uniting the West into a Christian confederation—in a word, of forming Christendom.

When he made Charlemagne emperor, Leo did not abdicate his temporal authority, but only raised up for himself a powerful protector. There is ample proof of this in the will of Charlemagne; for, while he enumerates all the provinces of Germany, France, and northern Italy, and assigns them to his sons as portions of his kingdom, he makes no mention of the papal territory, except where he tells them that they must be the zealous defenders of the Popes, even as he himself had been, and his father Pepin, and his grandfather Charles Martel.

If the Carlovingian empire did not realise all that the Popes anticipated from it, it was because the descendants of Charlemagne were utterly unworthy of him. That great sovereign stands out in bold relief as the one truly wise secular ruler of his time. He had his faults, but they are more than compensated by the wisdom of his general policy, his love of learning, and the prosperity which he conferred on all the countries of his empire. His laws remain a standing monument of his wisdom, and the annals of Europe would have been far brighter for the next two centuries had the Popes enjoyed, as Leo anticipated, the protection of a race of powerful sovereigns, who, while leaving them free in their government of Rome and the Church, would have held their enemies in subjection, whether Lombards, Saracens, or Hungarians.

Throughout the whole course of the middle ages we see the great work of the formation of Christian Europe in progress under the guidance of the Popes. Their rule was the one link which bound the nations of the West together. They exerted themselves with success to eradicate the traces of barbarism. They denounced private war, first regulated then finally abolished the ordeal of combat, and mitigated the feudal codes by the introduction of the law of the Church into the jurisprudence of Europe. Under their influence slavery disappeared, ignorance was dissipated by the institution of monastic schools and universities. The earliest founded was the Lateran patriarchate, which for two centuries gave Popes to Rome, and included among its colleges the celebrated Schola Cantorum of Gregory the Great, in which the Gregorian music took its rise.

When England and America referred their dispute to arbitration, the act was hailed as the offspring of nineteenth century enlightenment; while the fact was forgotten, or ignored, that for centuries the Popes acted as the arbitrators of Europe, and many a conflict was avoided by the quarrel being referred to the decision of the successor of St. Peter. In the middle ages an oppressed people could always obtain the powerful aid of the Popes in their struggle against tyranny. They exercised a power which has often been assailed, but which, nevertheless, worked incalculable good for Europe; and kings whom no physical force could overawe, felt that they could not violate the laws of God or outrage the liberties of their people, without drawing down upon themselves the denunciations of Rome, and forfeiting the allegiance of their subjects.

Historians who are no friends either to Catholicity or to the Popes, acknowledge that they exercised a salutary influence on the destinies of Europe. “Even the spiritual supremacy arrogated by the Pope,” says Macaulay, “was, in the dark ages, productive of far more good than evil. Its effect was to unite the nations of Western Europe into one great commonwealth. What the Olympian chariot course and the Pythian oracle were to all the Greek cities from Trebizond to Marseilles, Rome and her bishop were to all Christians of the Latin communion from Calabria to the Hebrides. Thus grew up sentiments of enlarged benevolence. Nations separated from each other by seas and mountains acknowledged a fraternal tie and a common code of public law. Even in war the cruelty of the conqueror was not seldom mitigated by the recollection that he and his vanquished enemies were all members of one great federation!” (*)

The chief obstacle against which the Popes had to contend, and which delayed for full a hundred years the formation of Christian Europe, was the Btate of woeful anarchy to which intestine wars and foreign invasions reduced Italy during the tenth century. In the preceding period, after the destruction of the Lombard power by Charlemagne, Italy enjoyed a high degree of prosperity, and the Popes laboured hard to develope the resources of their territory, rebuilding the ruined cities, repairing the broken aqueducts, and re-opening the ports. The annalists of the period are loud in their praises of these peaceful times, and tell how few were the castles and fortresses of Italy, how there was no apprehension of war, and villas and churches were scattered over the fertile country. But soon a dark cloud arose. Mahomet had preached his doctrine in the cities of Arabia, and within a hundred years of the Hegira, the Mussulmans had founded an empire wider than that of ancient Rome. They had conquered all Eastern and Central Asia, Egypt, Nubia, the rich provinces of Northern Africa, and the whole of Spain. Charles Martel had saved France, and crushed their military power north of the Pyrenees; but their fleets swept in triumph over the Mediterranean, subdued Sicily, Corsica, and Sardinia, and made frequent descents upon the shores of France and Italy.

Early in the ninth century we hear of Pope Pascal ransoming captives carried off by these corsairs; and Gregory IV., in order to secure the coast near Rome, rebuilt and fortified the city of Ostia, making it a harbour of refuge. But these piratical raids were only the beginning of the Moslem attempts upon Italy, and for the hundred years that followed we see the Popes engaged in providing against their attacks. It was the commencement of that long struggle in which the Popes upheld the banner of the Cross, and rallied the forces of Christendom against El Islam, a conflict which, beginning now in Italy, ended centuries after on the waves of Lepanto and beneath the walls of Vienna. There can be no doubt that by their conduct in these the first wars with the Saracens, they saved Italy frorn^ being subjected like Spain to the Mahometan yoke. Had Home then fallen under the dominion of the Crescent the hopes of European civilization would have perished for ever.

The Saracens had appeared before Rome in the closing years of the pontificate of Sergius II., and the first act of his successor, Leo IV., (847—855), was to place the Eternal City in a state of defence. He repaired the walls, strengthened the gates, rebuilt the towers, and enclosed the southern suburb of the Trastevere, with St. Peter’s and the Vatican, by a line of fortifications. From him it was that this part of Rome received the name of the Leonine city.

While these works were in progress, news arrived that the Saracens were collecting a great fleet in the harbours of Sardinia for the invasion of the pontifical states. Leo immediately prepared for war. At his call the galleys of the commercial cities of the south assembled at Ostia. He himself said Mass in the presence of the Christian armament, and blessed it as it sailed out to battle. A splendid victory followed, the remnants of the Saracen fleet were shattered by a storm, and hundreds of prisoners brought to Rome laboured at the fortifications and public works, which thus became monuments of the Christian triumph. Before the close of his pontificate, Leo had rebuilt and fortified the town and harbour of Porto, founded the town of Leopolis for the people of Centum Cellre, which the corsairs had destroyed some years before, and placed the cities of Horta and Ameria in a state of defence. His subjects enjoyed the greatest prosperity, his virtues won for him the title of a saint, while his public worth has extorted praise even from Voltaire and Sismondi.

Pope John VIII. (873—882) was another active opponent of the Saracens, and he had difficulties yet greater to contend with. At one time the cities of the south, at another some of the barons of the Roman territory, began to form alliances with these foes of Christianity. By his letters and envoys John VIII. broke up this unholy league; and then, putting himself at the head of the Roman army, inflicted a severe defeat on the infidels in the valley of the Garigliano. For a time this victory secured peace for Italy; but it was not long before the Saracens re-appeared, and we find the Pontiff engaged in continual preparations for defence, fortifying the basilica of St. Paul, breaking up another league into which Naples had entered with the Mahometans, excommunicating the bishop who had counselled the alliance, and procuring arms and horses for Spain. He was on a journey to France to obtain assistance from Charles le Gros when he died in 882.

After this period the descents of the Saracens became more and more frequent. In the north they occupied the stronghold of Frassineto, and beset the passes of the Alps. In the south they returned to the valley of the Garigliano, and formed an entrenched camp on an eminence overlooking the river. They sacked and burned the abbeys of Farfa and Monte Cassino, and many a lesser monastery. The villas and churches, which were scattered over the country in the peaceful days of the earlier Carlovingians, disappeared; on every rocky height towers and castles appeared in their stead. At first these were only places of refuge and defence against the Saracens; but soon each castle was the hold of a baron or marchese, who exercised an uncontrolled tyranny over all around him. The peasants of the district became his vassals for the sake of his protection; and the feudal system, with all its miserable results, was introduced into Italy.

We have seen how some of the Roman barons leagued with the Saracens against John VIII. They now became even worse than the infidels themselves. The reign of law and order was cast aside. Every robber-noble who could muster a troop of spearmen was an independent ruler in all but the name. Instead of combining against the Saracens, they allowed them to plunder and foray at their will, and often aided them in their work. They turned their swords against each other; they seized on church property, and sold the dignity of the priesthood to the highest bidder. And while the lesser barons were engaged in this career of brigandage and sacrilege, the more powerful nobles were struggling for the name of emperor, or the ill-omened title of King of Italy. Then new spoilers appeared upon the scene; the pagan Hungarians, the descendants of the men who had followed Atilla, came pouring over the Alps, and year after year they returned to carry away the fruits of the harvest and the vintage. And thus Italy, torn asunder by the dissensions of her own sons, assailed from the north by the Hungarians, from the south by the Moslems, sank rapidly into that state of anarchy and confusion from which the Popes had rescued her after the fall of Rome.

Not alone in Italy, but throughout Europe, the tenth century was an age of darkness. The empire of Charlemagne had entirely disappeared, and feudal anarchy was arising amid its ruins. All through the north and west the raven standards of the northmen were flying over captured cities, or in the glare of burning monasteries. Even in ancient Erin, which had long vied with Rome itself as the teacher and civiliser of Europe, the light of learning was dying out, and her title to be the University of Europe was disappearing in the long struggle with the Danes. At length the reign of anarchy invaded the Eternal City. The Cenci, a race of tyrant nobles, whose lives were one long scene of licence and blood, took possession of the castle of Saint Angelo; and then followed that dark chapter in the annals of the Church, when her pontiffs were overawed, ill-treated, imprisoned, even murdered by the tyrants of Rome, who even dared to nominate the successors of the Prince of the Apostles.

Yet—wonderful to relate—of the thirty Popes who filled the chair of Peter during this period of storm and darkness, by far the greater number were men well worthy to be the rulers of the Church. The one bright spot in the history of Italy at this time is the victory gained over the Saracens by Pope John X., when, at the head of troops collected from Rome and the cities of the south, he drove the infidels from their strong camp on the Garigliano. For nine hundred years men of saintly life had ruled the Church; and by a miracle of God’s protection even when unholy men were thrust into that high office, they never pronounced one word against the doctrine of the Church, never abdicated the least tittle of her rights.

In one point of view the dark story of that time is an instructive one, and we only regret that the limits of our work prevent us from entering into it more fully. Let all who read the history of the Popes of the tenth century remember that it is the history of the Popes deprived of their Temporal Power. Without that safeguard of their freedom, they became nine hundred years ago the subjects of a line of temporal princes; and what was the result? They became the prisoners, the victims, worst of all at times the creatures of the Cenci. What wonder then that Christendom demands the restoration of Rome?

But even when virtually the prisoner of the usurpers of his temporal rights, the Pope was still the ruler and centre of the Church. From the north and south, from the east and west, the pilgrims came to kneel at his feet—Franks and Germans, Greeks and Syrians, chieftains from Erin, Saxon earls and thanes, Crusaders from Spain; and thence the missionaries still went forth to win fresh conquests for the Faith. But when Rome and Europe presented this wild scene of anarchy, can w(r)e be surprised that morals became corrupt, that this corruption invaded even the sanctuary, and that while feudal barons bought and sold the offices of the Church, they were often held by unworthy men?

But now, as the tenth century closes and the eleventh begins, the darkness is dispelled, the prospect brightens. The Hungarians are no longer ravaging Italy, for they are Christians now, and are ruled by a sainted king who holds his kingdom as a fief of the Holy See. In the south the Normans are appearing, later on to become the conquerors of the Saracens and the defenders of the Holy See; and in the last year of this century of darkness, a truly great Pontiff assumed the tiara. Sylvester II., whose reign began in 999, was a man deeply versed alike in sacred and profane learning, at once a profound theologian, an able astronomer, a skilful mechanician, and a practised statesman. He was the first of the Popes who conceived the great idea of the Crusade, and he published an eloquent appeal to the Christian nations, calling upon them to succour the "holy city. This alone is enough to make his name a memorable one in history, for it was by the Crusades that Christian Europe was finally constituted, and rose from a condition of feudal anarchy and division into that great federation of Christian nations, which the Popes had laboured to form since the days of Charlemagne.

But Pope Sylvester’s appeal met with no response. The Crusades were still in the future, yet it was the first step towards them. Another great Pope appeared in Benedict VIII. (1024—1033). He succeeded in enforcing order in the capital, raised an army for the defence of the states, and placed garrisons of Romans and Norman pilgrims along the frontiers. The chief of the lately all-powerful Cenci having seized a castle belonging to the abbey of Farfa, Benedict besieged him in it, and reduced him to submission. But his greatest glory is that he repelled the last attempt of the Saracens to conquer Italy. They made a descent on the Tuscan coast, and took the city of Luni. There the Pope attacked and routed them, and it was with difficulty that their king, Mugetto, escaped to Sardinia. There he was preparing for a fresh expedition, when he was attacked by the fleets of Genoa and Pisa, with which cities Benedict had succeeded in contracting an alliance. The island was conquered and assigned to the Pisans as a fief of the Holy See, while the treasures of Mugetto enriched the city of Genoa. Thus we see the Pope at once saving Italy, and starting two of the great cities of the north on their career of victory and prosperity.

It was not, however, until the policy of the Popes was directed by the powerful mind of Hildebrand, when, after having been the chief minister of his predecessors, he was raised to the purple under the name of Gregory VII., that the triumph of order and religion was at length secured. We cannot here de more than briefly refer to the events of his pontificate. He was long regarded as the incarnation of selfish ambition, the real purpose of his life and policy was mistaken or wilfully misinterpreted, and he was considered one of the least instead of the greatest man of his age. Thanks chiefly to the research of the Protestant historical students of Germany, the cloud of obloquy which long hung over the name of Hildebrand has been cleared away, and his character is viewed in its true light.

While he was yet only the minister of Popes/Victor and Nicholas, the two first great steps were taken, under his influence, towards securing freedom of election for the Popes. The former Pontiff provided that the cardinals only should take part in future conclaves and Pope Nicholas with the help of Robert Guiscard and the Norman vassals of the Holy See broke the power of the Roman barons.

In his conflict with Henry of Germany he stood forth as the champion of the liberty of the Church, of order, law, and civilization; while his opponent was a tyrant emperor, whose subjects loudly demanded his deposition at the hands of the Holy See, who waged a long struggle in defence of his alleged right to sell the abbot’s staff and the bishop’s crozier, and whose private life was one long series of abominable crimes. Gregory’s first act on assuming the tiara had been to write to Henry, telling him that in Italy he had fifty thousand men ready to march against the Infidel, and calling on the emperor to aid him in initiating a crusade. His summons was disregarded. Henry refused to enter upon the glorious career thus pointed out to him, and preferred to turn his arms against the Church. What can be nobler than the attitude of Gregory all through the struggle? He was never fearful of the final result, but calm and collected alike when Henry lay at his feet in mock repentance at Canossa, and when he was afterwards besieged by his foe in Saint Angelo, and only a few days seemed to stand between him and captivity and death. But at length the victory was won. On the very eve of surrender the Norman chivalry came pouring across the Campagna, hurled the invader from the Eternal City, and drove him northward in hopeless rout. Gregory, indeed, left his great work unfinished, but his successors were men filled with his spirit, fired by his example, and they achieved what he had so well begun.

The tyrant Henry sank into the grave a crownless exile, dethroned by his own son and abhorred by his people, who said openly that the same Galilean who conquered the apostate Julian, had triumphed over the despotic Kaiser. His son, Henry V., for a time trod faithfully in his footsteps, but Gregory VII. conquered in his successors, and at length Henry yielded all the claims of Rome.

Besides the completion of Gregory VII.’s conquest over the ambition of the German Kaisers to share in the government of the Church, two other objects engaged the attention of the Popes as temporal princes. The first was the re-conquest of those parts of their territory which had been usurped by the barons and the partisans of Germany. This work was accomplished by Calixtus II. The anti-pope, Burdino, who had been set up by Henry V. at Sutri, was wasting the country up to the gates of Rome. The Pope, with a mixed army of Normans and Romans, besieged him in his stronghold, and forced him to surrender. Then he destroyed many of the castles of the Roman barons, put down brigandage, placed garrisons in all the fortified places of his dominions, and so restored the long departed peace and security of Italy.

The immediate result of this restoration of order was that Calixtus was able to assemble the first Council of the Lateran at Rome. It was in this great assembly of more than three hundred bishops, that the struggle of fifty years between the Church and the Empire was brought to a close by the submission of Henry V. First by his envoys at the Lateran he renounced all claim to the right of investiture by ring and crozier. Then, in a great assembly on the banks of the Rhine, in the presence of the chivalry of Germany the reconciliation was ratified, and he received from the Papal legate the kiss of peace.

Among the bishops who met on this occasion there were prelates from the cities of the Holy Land, but lately won back by Christian swords from the rule of Islam; for under the successors of Gregory VII., the glorious era of the Crusades, the first act of united Christendom, had begun—Pope Victor III. had for ever freed Italy from the danger of a Saracen invasion. He negotiated an alliance between Genoa and Pisa; and, giving to the Christian armament the banner of St. Peter, he sent it to invade the Saracen kingdom of Tunis. The Christians took two cities, defeated the Moslems in a pitched battle, and Victor was able to dictate a peace by which the king of Tunis became his nominal vassal, and set free all the Christian captives in his dominions. So great was the spoil that, out of a portion of their share of it, the Pisans built the splendid cathedral and Campo Santo, to this day the glory of their city.

Then Urban II. began the long Crusade. He it was who sent Peter the Hermit to preach the Holy War, and presided at the Councils of Clermont and Placentia, where the princes and barons of the West assumed the cross. From this time the Popes stood forth as the leaders of that Christendom, which they themselves had formed, in its battle with the Crescent. “When we read the annals of the Middle Ages,” says Michaud, the great historian of the Crusades, “one cannot but be struck with admiration at one of the most splendid spectacles which human society has ever presented—that of Christian Europe recognizing one religion, obeying one law, forming in some degree a single state governed by one supreme head, who spoke in the name of God, and whose mission it was to promote the reign of the gospel on earth. In the eleventh and twelfth centuries the nations of Europe, subject to the authority of the successor of St Peter, were united by a bond more powerful than modern enlightenment, by a motive of action more potent than that of liberty. This motive power, this bond, which was that of the universal church, long sustained and promoted the enthusiastic progress of the holy war. Whatever was the origin of the Crusades, it is certain that they could never have been undertaken without that unity of religious belief, which doubled the strength of the Christian commonwealth. The Christian nations, by their agreement in sentiment and feeling, showed the world what can be effected by zeal and enthusiasm, which increases as it communicates itself from one to the other, and by that faith which directs a hundred different peoples to one common object, and whose inspirations, in the words of the gospel, can move mountains.’’ (*)

We need not speak here of the great work accomplished by the Crusades. One thing no one will deny. They broke and crushed the power of the Mahometans by raising against them the barrier of united Christendom. But for that barrier, they would have poured into Europe, advancing from conquest to conquest, till they met the Moorish legions of Spain on the plains of France. To the brave knights who have long mouldered to dust beneath the walls of Acre and Jerusalem, or whose sculptured forms still repose under our minster roofs or in our desecrated abbeys, and, above all, to the long line of great Pontiffs who sent them forth to battle, and called upon the Christian nations to lay aside their feuds and support their brethren in the struggle in the Holy Land—to them we owe it that the Christian bell, and not the call of the muezzin, sounds over hill and valley, and that the noble domes which rise by the Thames and Tiber are crowned by the Cross of Christ instead of the Crescent of Mahomet.

§ 3. The Popes and the Italian Republics.

We have seen the Popes saving Rome and her people in the days of barbarian and Lombard invasions, preserving Italy from a Saracenic conquest, starting the cities of the north on their career of prosperity, rescuing the Church and society from the anarchy of the tenth century, and destroying its last trace when they threw off the despotic yoke of the German Kaisers. Finally, we have seen them banding the Christian nations together for the Crusades, which, while they saved Christendom from falling under the rule of Islam, produced among other minor results an effect of no small importance on the prospects of Italy. It was Venice, Genoa, and Pisa that, by furnishing the fleets of the Crusades, and carrying supplies to the Christian armies, gave the first impulse to that trade with the East, from which arose the commercial prosperity of Italy.

We are now to see the Popes at once securing that freedom which they had won for the Church, and engaging in a new conflict, which, begun in defence of the municipal liberties of the Italian cities, ended in the establishment of the Italian Republics.

Frederic Barbarossa, the first emperor of the Hohenstauffen dynasty, devoted all his energies to the re-establishment of the old Roman empire. He was, he said, by title, Emperor of Urbis et Orbis, the City and the World, and he was determined that his dignity should not be a mere empty name. As the first step towards the establishment of the new empire, he wished to extinguish at once the municipal liberties of Italy and the freedom of the Church, to obtain possession of Rome as the natural capital of his dominions, and to make the Pope his chief supporter, ready to anathematize whoever rose up against the Kaiser in the cause of Italian liberty against German aggression.

In Italy he found three allies. First, there were the jurists of Bologna, who -were ready to maintain before all Europe that every right which had belonged to the old pagan emperors of Rome, belonged equally to Frederic as their direct successor. Then there were the Ghibelline nobles of the north, whose interest lay in the enslavement of the Italian cities. Finally, there was at Rome the powerful faction of Arnold of Brescia, who wished to convert the municipality into the old senate, and in order to revive the military glories of the old republic, were planning and executing raids against the neighbouring towns, in which success was more disgraceful than defeat, for it was invariably followed by pillage and massacre. To such a state of disorder was Rome at times reduced by this faction, that the Popes were occasionally obliged to leave it and reside at Viterbo, Anagni, or Terracina.

It was at the diet of Roncaglia, in 1158, that Frederic may be said to have finally declared war against Italian freedom. There four of the chief jurists of Bologna, and the local judges of the cities of the north, being required to lay down the law before the emperor as to his rights in Lombardy, declared that to the emperor alone belonged all regal rights, “including those of all duchies, marquisates, contados, consulates, or cities and their territories, the right of coining money and levying tolls, the monopoly of provisions, all tributes, sea-ports, mills, fisheries, and revenues of every sort derived from rivers.” ((*)

These tyrannical doctrines, which made the will of the emperor the only law, received a full assent from the representatives of the clergy present at the diet, and the battle seemed won without a blow. But if Frederic thought so, he was doomed to disappointment. The servile clergy were severely reprimanded for their conduct by Pope Adrian IV.; the cities of Lombardy, led by Milan, protested loudly against the judgment of the diet; and thus began the alliance between the Pope and the Lombard League in defence of the freedom of Italy.

Frederic led his soldiers against such of the refractory cities as were most open to attack, and before he retired across the Alps, to prepare for a second campaign, he had captured, sacked, and burned Tortona, Piacenza, and Crema. He was still outwardly at peace with the Pope, but the open rupture now followed. Even before the diet of Roncaglia Adrian had offended him by protesting against his repudiation of his wife, Adelaide, and his marriage with Beatrice, the heiress of Burgundy. The emperor seized the first opportunity of breaking off all friendly relations with Rome. Eskil, bishop of Lunden, the papal legate to the north, having been plundered and imprisoned while on his way through Germany by some robber nobles of Frederic’s court, and a letter of the Pope, demanding redress from the emperor, being left unnoticed, two cardinal legates were sent to Besançon, where he was then staying, to present a second letter to him, and receive his reply. In one part of the letter allusion was made to the emperor as the vassal of the Holy See. On hearing these words Frederic burst into a rage, and the nobles around him assumed a threatening aspect. “From whom but the Pope has the emperor received his crown?” asked Roland, cardinal of San Marco. A sword-stroke was aimed at him; Frederic turned it aside; but he soon drove the legates from his presence, and forbade all intercourse with Rome.

Adrian died the following year, and the cardinal of San Marco succeeded him under the name of Alexander III. Before the death of Adrian, Frederic had announced (in language strikingly like that which was used not long ago by the chancellor of the German Empire of to-day), that in order to prevent discord he intended to intervene in the coming conclave, and that his ambassador had secured the support of France and England for this policy.

He now began his war against the papacy by setting up the anti-pope, Octavian, against Alexander. On the very day of the conclave, Octavian, at the head of a body of armed men, had besieged the Pope and cardinals in St. Peter’s, and kept them blockaded there until the Roman people rose and rescued them, and then formed their escort to the fortress of Terracina, where Alexander took up his residence. For the first few years of his pontificate he lived a wandering life, now at Terracina, now in Viterbo, now at Anagni, now in France. Once he entered Rome, but only to be besieged there by Frederic Barbarossa; and though the people and the troops made a brave defence, he would have fallen into the hands of his enemy, had not the Norman galleys, ascending the Tiber, borne him away to Terracina.

All this time the emperor was carrying on a war of extermination against the Lombards, who, faithful at once to the Church and to their liberties, refused to obey the anti-pope, Octavian, or to accept the doctrines of Roncaglia. Again and again the Lombards were defeated in the field; city after city was given to the flames, and at length, in 1162, the stately Milan itself was razed to the ground. But still the Lombard League never lost heart, aided and encouraged by the Pope, who had absolved Frederic’s subjects from their allegiance, and declared him deposed; and the resistance, crushed on one point, broke out on another.

On the destruction of Milan its archbishop took refuge at the court of Alexander, where he died in 1166. Then the Pope consecrated Cardinal Galdino as his successor, and sent him to Milan, where the citizens were now rebuilding their houses, churches, and walls. Great was their joy at receiving him. Under his auspices the city was restored, and then the Lombards built a new fortress and city, calling it Alessandria, in honour of the great pontiff, and sending an embassy to confer its suzerainty upon him. To this day Alessandria remains a monument of the alliance between Pope and people in the battle for Italian freedom.

In 1174 Frederic crossed the Alps for the fourth time, and while one division of his army, aided by the fleet of the temporising Venetians, was repulsed from Ancona, the main body burned Susa, occupied Asti, and then besieged Alessandria, which Barbarossa was resolved to destroy. The siege lasted until the Good Friday of the following year, when he raised it, after having been foiled in a treacherous attempt to surprise the city during a truce concluded in honour of the holy day. Disgusted at a war carried on under the ban of excommunication, and attended only by disasters, Henry the Lion and his Saxons refused to serve any longer against the Lombards. Then, as a last effort, Frederic marched on Milan, but at Legnano, on June 3rd, 1176, he encountered the army of the Lombard League. Charging to the cry of “Saint Ambrose and Saint Peter!” the Milanese swept the Germans from the field, and Barbarossa escaped with difficulty to Pavia, where he rallied the wreck of his army.

The struggle was over. In the following October the ambassadors of Frederic appeared before the Pope at Anagni to ask for peace. The reply of Alexander was noble and dignified. He was glad, he said, to hear that the emperor wished to end the war, but he would listen to no proposals of peace which did not include his allies, the Normans and the Lombard League. A long period of negotiation followed. More than once the emperor attempted to obtain possession of the person of the Pontiff, until at length his own nobles, turning upon him, refused to give him their aid. In the Holy Week of 1177 Alexander met the deputies of the League at Ferrara, to deliberate upon the peace. He reminded them of the persecutions the Church had suffered for eighteen years, and told them that he had been offered a separate peace for himself. “But,” he said, “being mindful with what devotion and with what courage you fought for the Church and for Italian liberty, we would hear of no peace in which you were not included, in order that as you had been partners in our tribulation, you might be partners also in our joy”

In their reply the delegates told Alexander that all Italy thanked him. They were, they said, the first to throw themselves across the path of Frederic, to prevent him from destroying Italy and oppressing the liberty of the Church, a cause from which neither the loss of treasure and labour, nor danger and disaster, had been able to turn them aside. They, too, had refused a separate peace, which did not include the Church. They would gladly make peace with the emperor, denying him none of his ancient rights over Italy, but their liberties they would give up only with life.

The negotiations ended in a treaty, by which Frederic renounced the schism of his three successive anti-popes, swore allegiance to Alexander, and agreed to a six years’ truce with the Lombards. Later on, this truce gave way to the treaty of Constance, which secured to the Italian cities all their municipal and territorial liberties, and the right of building fortifications and raising armies for their defence. Such was the result of the victorious struggle waged by the Popes and their people against Frederic Barbarossa, which was the beginning of the golden age of independence of the Italian cities. Fostered by freedom, religion, learning, art and commerce, flourished, and there is not a more glorious period in all her long history than that which began in the pontificate of Alexander III., and ended only in the evil hour when the Popes were driven from Rome and Italy.

Alexander died on August 30th, 1181; after a glorious reign of twenty-two years. His immediate successors, while watching over the destinies of the Italian republics, devoted themselves to the task of extinguishing the factions which had arisen in Rome and in the States of the Church, during the conflict with Germany, and of recovering the possessions of the Church from the Ghibelline nobles who had usurped them during the same period of confusion. This work was completed by Innocent III., under whose vigorous rule peace and order flourished throughout the states from sea to sea.

We have now traced in some detail the history of the temporal power in all its relations with Italy and the world. We have seen how the Popes acquired it on the downfall of the Roman Empire; how they built up Christendom out of the chaos which ensued; and how they at once vindicated the liberty of the Church and the freedom of Italy in the struggle with the German emperors. We have shown that but for them Rome would in all probability have become a mere wilderness of ruins, like Carthage or Babylon; that but for them Europe might have remained buried in the darkness of barbaric ignorance, and subject to feudal tyranny; that they saved Italy from the Saracens, and Europe from Mahometan conquest; finally that a great Pontiff was the leader of the Italian people in their struggle for liberty against German aggression, and thus inaugurated the most glorious and prosperous epoch in the annals of Italy.

We have proved that, far from being the’ “bane of Italy,” the Papacy was the source of all its glories, and that, without it, Italy would have become, like Illyria, an obscure province of a German empire, or, like Greece before its war of independence, a Moslem pashalik. This done, we will sketch in briefer outline the history of the six centuries which intervene between the pontificate of Alexander III. and the first appearance of the Revolution in Italy during the reign of Pius VI., and still we shall see the Popes appearing as the benefactors of Rome, of Italy, of all Christendom.

Innocent IV. saved the freedom of Italy and the Church from Frederic II., the last emperor of the Hohenstauffen line, as Alexander III. had preserved it from Barbarossa. “Innocent IV.,” says Sismondi, “reigned eleven years and five months, and if the glory of a Pope could be measured, like that of a conqueror, by the humiliation and sufferings of his enemies, none of his successors had a reign so glorious.” (*) And truly his conquests were glorious, won as they were in the cause of freedom, religion, and civilization, against the semi-infidel Kaiser, who did not blush to associate the Crescent with the eagle of the German Empire, and to make the monastery of Monte Cassino a barrack for his Moslem mercenaries, whose scimitars and daggers were dyed in the blood of Italians. When by oppression at home, the invasion of Italy, and repeated infringements of the liberties of the Church, Frederic had more than forfeited the imperial crown, Innocent proclaimed his deposition. His subjects, his allies, turned their arms against him; he himself was the last of his race to-wear the crown of the empire; his son, Manfred, lost at Benevento the kingdom of Naples, which, as a fief of the Holy See, had been given to Charles of Anjou; and the last of the line of Hohenstauffen expired, when the head of the youthful Conradin fell on the scaffold at Salerno, a victim to the hatred excited by the crimes and ambition of his race.

The reign of Alexander IV., the successor of Innocent, was remarkable for his crusade against Ezzelino da Romano, the son-in-law of Barbarossa, and tyrant of Verona, a monster of cruelty unparalleled in mediaeval history. Alexander gathered an army, and sent it against him under the banner of the Cross. The Ghibelline nobles of the north sided with Ezzelino, and a long war followed, marked on his side by the most fearful acts of reckless barbarity. When Padua was taken by the crusaders, he massacred a whole division of Paduan soldiers belonging to his own army, in the old Roman amphitheatre at Verona. At length, being wounded and taken prisoner, he died by his own act, furiously tearing open his wounds. So perished a foe of Italy and of mankind.

“Four Popes,” says Michaud, “of a different character, but placed in similar circumstances, pursued the same policy. Frederic, by his cruelty, his injustice, and his inordinate ambition, often justified the extreme measures of the Holy See: like his predecessors he did not conceal his project of reviving the empire of the Caesars, and had it not been for the influence of the Popes, it is probable that Europe would have been subjected to the yoke of the emperors of Germany. The policy of the Sovereign Pontiffs was favourable to the freedom of the cities and the independence of the smaller states of Germany. We do not fear to add that the thunders of the Holy See saved at least for a time the independence of Italy, and perhaps that of France.” (*) Such is the testimony of a great historian, who is assuredly no friend of the Popes.

The German Empire was revived by Gregory X, in the person of Rudolph of Hapsburg, after an interregnum of thirty years. When this Pope was elected he was at Acre in the midst of the Crusade. His first act on his arrival in Italy was to send succour to the Christians in the East; and his last days were passed in preparations for leading in person an army to the Holy Land.

His reign was, indeed, one long series of triumphs. Even Sismondi is among his panegyrists. “A glorious pontificate,” he says, “was that of Gregory X. Italy was almost entirely pacified by his impartial spirit, at a time when the madness of civil feuds seemed to destroy all hope of repose; the interregnum of the empire was terminated by the election of a prince, who covered himself with glory, and who founded one of the most powerful dynasties of Europe. The Greek was reconciled to the Latin Church, and the quarrel between the Franks and Greeks for the empire of the East was appeased by a wise and just accommodation. An (Ecumenical Council (the second of Lyons), at which five hundred bishops, seventy mitred abbots, a thousand theologians and representatives of religious orders assisted, was presided over by this pontiff, and promulgated a code of laws useful to Christianity and worthy an assembly so august. Such are the events which render his reign remarkable.” ((*)

The twofold task to which Gregory devoted himself, that of appeasing the feuds of Italy and Western Europe, and checking the advance of the Infidel, was steadily pursued by his successors. We hear of Nicholas III. sending his nephew, the Bishop of Ostia, from city to city reconciling the factions and receiving into the Church those Ghibellines who had incurred excommunication. Similar success was achieved by Boniface VIII., and, as a proof of the prosperity of the States during his reign, it is related that at the jubilee of a.d. 1300, when at one time more than 200,000 pilgrims were in Rome, there was not the slightest scarcity. The next Pope was Benedict XI., justly called by Gibbon, ‘' the mildest of mankind.” His great aim was to establish a general peace, and combine the nations of Europe against the Moslems. Venice and Padua were on the verge of war; he settled the difference between them and averted it, while his legates restored peace to Denmark and the kingdoms of the North. Of the princes of the West Philippe le Bel alone steadily opposed his enlightened policy, and the rising factions in Rome giving him trouble in his own capital, finally forced him to retire to Anagni, where he died on January 7th, 1304, after a brief but eventful reign of little more than two months. There were grave suspicions that he had been poisoned at the instigation of the French king.

This is an important epoch in Italian history, for with the reign of the next pontiff, Clement V., began the “captivity of Avignon.”

§ 4. Four Centuries of Papal Rule

Sad was the fate of Italy and Rome, when by the factions of the Eternal City the Popes were driven into exile at Avignon. No one can read the history of Sismondi without being convinced that the period of the Middle Ages, extending from the times of Alexander III. to the opening of the fourteenth century, was at once the epoch of the greatest power of the Papacy, when the Popes stood at the head of united Europe, and the epoch of the greatest prosperity and glory for Italy, the golden age of Italian freedom.

It is equally evident that the period which followed, when for seventy years Rome was without the Popes, and for full eighty years more the Popes were thwarted in their action by the schism of the west, was for Italy a return of the dark ages, which had preceded her rise to fame and freedom under Hildebrand and Alexander III. And again, no reader of history can fail to see that with the restoration of Rome to the Popes and the re-establishment of their influence by the close of the Bchism of the West, there began for Rome and Italy a period of revival and renewed prosperity, which lasted for nearly four

hundred years—from the middle of the fifteenth century to the outbreak of the revolutionary spirit in Italy after the French Revolution.

Hardly had Pope Clement retired to Avignon, when the “Free Companies,” or armies of brigands, appeared in Italy. There was the Gran Compagna led by Duke Werner, a German count. Another and equally terrible corps was that of Fra Moreale— a Provencal, and an apostate knight of St. John. A third was commanded by an English adventurer named Hawkwood. These companies marched through the country, plundering churches and castles, levying contributions on the towns, holding peaceful travellers to ransom.

Meanwhile, the Roman factions were carrying on a warfare in the streets, and every nobleman’s house was a fortress. When Petrarch arrived at Civita Vecchia in 1337, he was unable for some time to proceed to Rome, for a fierce struggle was raging in the Campagna between the Colonna and the Orsini. The former family were continually opposed to the Popes, and we find old Stephen Colonna (who later on saw his sons slain and his army routed by Rienzi) setting up an antipope at Rome against John XXII. At one time the Romans were ruled by some demagogue dictator, whose reign was generally ended by the dagger of a would-be Brutus; at others, the municipality assumed the dignities of the old senate, and sent out the militia of Rome to ape the conquests of 4—2

the legions, by an attempt to avenge an ancient feud on some town of the Comarca.

And all through Italy scenes like these were being enacted. Again petty tyrants and plundering barons were occupying the castles on all sides. There was no Pope at Rome to proclaim against them, in the name of the outraged laws of God and man, a crusade like that which had crushed Ezzelino da Romano.

But even in this hour of darkness the Popes, to the best of their power, watched over the interests of Italy. We hear of their envoys going from city to city to allay feuds and restore peace. When the Romans, led by old Stephen Colonna, attempted to capture and destroy Viterbo, it was the Orsini and the Papal troops, under a bishop of Winchester and a count of Toulouse that repelled them from before its walls; and the only successes gained over the banditti of the Free Companies were those obtained by the Papal troops led by Cardinal Alborvnoz, whose greatest victory was that in which he totally routed the compagna of the English brigand, Hawkwood. Even the early successes of Rienzi in restoring the reign of law and order at Rome were largely due to the influence of Raimond of Orvieto, the Papal legate; and Rienzi only fell when he ceased to act as the delegate of the Holy See, and began to pursue a policy so insensate, useless, and absurd, that many suppose that with his rise to power his mind, already overwrought, had become affected by insanity.

When Urban V. paid a brief visit to Rome, in 1367, nothing could exceed the wretched appearance of the city. “The churches and basilicas were dilapidated,” says a contemporary writer; “houses everywhere untenanted, weeds grew in the thoroughfares, heaps of rubbish and barricades encumbered the streets.” Again and again the Romans entreated the Popes to return. “Since the removal of the Holy See,” says Gibbon, quoting from Petrarch, “the sacred buildings of the Lateran and the Vatican, the altars and their shrines, were left in a state of poverty and decay. The cloud which hung over the Seven Hills,” it was added, “could be dispelled only by the presence of their lawful sovereign. Eternal fame, the prosperity of Rome, and the peace of Italy, would be the recompense of the Pope who should dare (not fearing to throw off the yoke of the French court and its cardinals) to embrace this generous resolution.”

Though the Holy See was nominally restored to Rome in 1377, it was not until 1421 that, in the person of Martin V., the Popes finally took possession once more of their ancient heritage. Deep was the abyss of misfortune and decay into which Rome had sunk during the period of their exile. “Taking leave of Florence,” says his biographer, Platina, “Pope Martin V. at length drew near the gates of Rome. He was hailed as the propitious star and last hope of their country by what still was left of the Roman people and princes, who went forth in great joy to

welcome him. They marked the day as one of thebrightest in their annals. It fell on the tenth of the kalends of October, 1421. He found Rome in a condition so dilapidated and forlorn, that it no longer presented the appearance of a city. One might see the houses tottering to their fall, the temples prostrate, the streets deserted; everything wore the appearance of decay, of neglect long continued and beyond redress. Want and misery were stamped on the faces of the inhabitants. Of the festive crowds, the concourse, the brilliancy and polished air of city life, there was no trace to be seen; but it looked as if the off-scouring of the whole country had been swept together into that dingy forlorn place.”*

It was not until the pontificate of his successor, Eugenius IV., that the restoration of Rome began. Even he was for a time exiled from Rome, for in 1434 the turbulent Colonna, aided by the Visconti of Milan, rose against him, demanding his abdication; and it was only with great difficulty that he escaped toFlorence. The Romans soon entreated him to return, but it was not until nine years after that he reentered the Holy City. Leopold von Ranke, in his “History of the Popes,” gives a striking picture of the state of the capital of Christendom at this period.

“In the year 1443,” he writes, “when Eugenius IV. returned to Rome, the city was become a mere dwelling of herdsmen; her inhabitants were in no

* Mile}’, History of the Papal States.

way distinguished from the peasants and shepherds of the surrounding country. The hills had been long abandoned, and the dwellings were gathered together in the levels along the windings of the Tiber: no pavements were found in the narrow streets, and these were darkened by projecting balconies, and by the buttresses that served to prop one house against another. Cattle wandered about as in a village. From San Silvestro to the Porta del Popolo all was garden and marsh, the resort of wild ducks. The very memory of antiquity was fast sinking. The Capitol had become the ‘ hill of goats,’ the Roman Forum was the ‘ cows’ field.’ To the few monuments yet remaining the people had attached the most absurd legends.”

From that time Rome began to rise from its ruins. Pontiff after pontiff, ascending the throne of St. Peter, took up the work of restoration where his predecessor had left it off. Among these great names some few stand out from the rest like the higher peaks of a mountain range. First of these was Nicholas V., one of the greatest of the restorers of learning, at whose court might be seen a brilliant circle of the last great scholars of Greece and the first of Italy. He was the first to introduce to the West many of the Greek classics, the founder of that magnificent library, which is still the chief treasure of the Vatican; “a man,” says Macaulay, “never to be mentioned without reverence by every lover of

literature.” He erected numerous churches and public buildings in Rome, and put the walls and towers in a complete state of defence. In his pontificate the rule of the Holy See was firmly reestablished throughout the States of the Church, and from that time, for full three hundred and fifty years, the patrimony of St. Peter enjoyed an almost uninterrupted peace. If freedom from war is a blessing, no state in Europe has enjoyed it to such an extent as the pontifical territory.

To Julius II. belongs the honour of having recovered those portions of the Papal States which had been usurped by the Borgias, by Venice, and by the house of Este. Without firing a shot he enforced all his demands upon the two first, while over the third he won an almost bloodless victory. Romance has shown Pope Julius leading the Papal troops to the storm of Mirandola, but there is no such scene in history. He did, indeed, direct the siege operations, which had not lasted long, when his artillery opened a breach in the old Gothic walls, and then the Ferrarese garrison immediately surrendered.

Everywhere the people hailed with enthusiasm their return to Papal rule. “From Placentia to Terracina,” says Von Ranke, “the whole fair region admitted his authority. He had ever sought to present himself in the character of a liberator; governing his new subjects with a wise benignity, he secured their attachment and even devotion. The temporal

princes were not without alarm at the sight of so many warlike populations in allegiance to the Pope. * Time was,’ says Machiavelli, ‘ when no baron was so insignificant but that he might venture to brave the Papal power; now it is regarded with respect even by a, king of France.’ "

We need only refer to Leo X. and Sixtus V.; the works of Roscoe and Hiibner have amply vindicated their fame, and we would but be going over subjects already familiar to our readers. From the time of the latter pontiff to the French Revolution, an absolutely uninterrupted peace reigned in the States. There is little, therefore, for history to record, and we shall conclude our account of the temporal rule of the Popes by briefly considering the character of their government and the condition of their provinces.

In the first place it is a mistake to suppose and assert, as some writers have done, that the Papal government was an absolute unlimited monarchy. It is true the Popes had no parliament at Monte Citorio modelled on that of Westminster. Later on, we shall have much to say of the practical working of the parliamentary system in Italy. It is enough to remark here, that, if the people of the Pontifical States had no Senate and Chamber of Deputies to watch over their interests, they possessed other institutions far better adapted to their character and genius. Each town had in its municipality a representative self-governing body, possessing full power over every local interest; and to the Italians local interests stand before all others. Each town, nay, almost every large village, has its local historian, its painters, its heroes, its patron saints. We may smile at this intense exaggeration of local feeling, but it isan important fact which we must never forget in judging of Italy.

Even in the days of the old Republic and the Empire, it was the same. The towns possessed municipal rights; they fought for them; even the rule of Rome could not supersede them. Italy was not one country with Rome for its capital in the modern sense; it was rather a great aggregation of small states—of communes if we may use a French word at the risk of being misunderstood. Muratori has shown that many of the towns preserved their municipal rights through the storm of barbarian invasion, or speedily recovered them. The war of the Lombard League was a struggle for municipal liberty; it was, in fact, the vital principle of Italian freedom. Even to this day decentralization exists in the country to an extent unknown in any other part of Europe, except perhaps Spain; and the local corporate bodies are still the virtual lawgivers of Italy. It is the syndic of a large city, the gonfaloniere of a village, the municipal council of either, which is nearly omnipotent within its limits and the surrounding district. The Popes, who had stood forth as the allies of the Lombards in the battle for the municipal liberties of the North, scrupulously respected, maintained, and even extended, those of their own states. Thus, when Julius II. recovered Bologna and the towns of the Romagna from the Venetians, he did not annex a single one of them to the pontifical territory without re-establishing its old municipal rights, or conferring new ones upon it, and these rights were carefully defined and always referred to in later times. Again, when in the reign of Clement VIII. the line of Este became extinct in the person of the tyrant, Alfonso II. (the persecutor of Tasso), and the fief of Ferrara reverted to the Holy See, the first act of the Pope on assuming the government was to restore the old municipal council and the ancient liberties of the citizens. (*)

As Rome had to maintain neither an army nor a luxurious court, the taxation was always lighter there than in any other part of Europe. It was just sufficient to defray the expenses of administration and civil government. Moreover, the Popes had at their command the abundant alms of the Catholic world, and this wealth they devoted to the noblest purposes. We need not speak here of their public works, of the basilicas, the restoration of the ancient aqueducts, the building of bridges, the making of roads. We need not speak of their generous patronage of science and art, which made Rome the capital of intellect and taste, as well as of religion; enough that it was in Rome that Michael Angelo found the one field worthy of his genius, and St. Peter’s still stands as the proudest monument of Christian art exercised under the patronage of the Holy See.

The Popes were able by their influence and wealth to confer deeper and more lasting services upon Europe and the civilized world. From the time of the Crusades to the crowning victory of Lepanto, they were the steadfast opponents of the Turks. It was Boniface XI. who raised the splendid army of French, Germans, and Hungarians, who fought the battle of Nicopolis. It was Eugenius IV. who formed the confederation of Hungarians and Poles, that, led by the king, Ladislas II., accompanied by the Papal legate, defeated the Turks at Varna, inflicting upon them a loss of thirty thousand men. Nicholas V. sent St. John Capistran to rouse the Christian princes to the rescue of Vienna. The hero Hunniades drew his sword against the Turks at the bidding of Calixtus III. Pius V. collected the fleet of Spanish, Venetian, and Papal galleys, that shattered the Turkish armament in the Bay of Lepanto, breaking their naval power for ever. And all through the seventeenth century munificent Papal subsidies enabled the Poles, Hungarians, Austrians, Venetians, and the knights of Malta, to keep the field against the Infidel; Innocent XI. sent 2,000,000 scudi to Hungary alone. These are only a few great names from a long list of illustrious pontiffs, but they suffice to show what Europe owes to the Popes in this respect, and what good use they made of their ample revenues.

To return to the internal condition of the States. Nothing is more remarkable than the rapid progress of agricultural prosperity from the time when Sixtus V. cleared the country of the brigands up to the Revolution. The ambassadors, sent from Venice to Pope Adrian VI. in 1522, give in their letters a glowing account of the prosperous condition of the Papal territory at that period. “Fronf Macerata to Tolentino,” they say, “we travelled through a district of surpassing loveliness. Hills and valleys were clothed with grain through an extent of thirty miles. Nothing less rich was to be seen. We could not find the breadth of a foot of uncultivated land. We thought it impossible to gather in so vast a quantity of grain.” (*) Could the same have been said of England or France at that period, or even at one much nearer our own times?

Later on we find Pius V. enacting wise laws for the encouragement and protection of agriculture in his dominions. By a constitution dated October 11th, 1566, he renewed the laws of his predecessors on the same subject, forbade the barons to force their vassals to sell their corn to them at their own price, granted liberty and safe conduct to all cultivators of the soil during seed time and harvest, and protected those bringing corn to market from arrest for debt or on any other pretext. These wise and statesman-like acts produced the best results. Ten years after, during the reign of Gregory XIII., Rome, which during the Empire had been obliged to draw its supplies from abroad, was able to export from its territory no less than 200,000 hectolitres of wheat.

On the encouragement of manufactures let Von Ranke be our guide. After speaking of the services of Sixtus V. to agriculture in the Roman territory, he continues:—“Neither was he negligent with regard to manufactures. A certain Peter of Valencia, a Roman citizen, had offered his services for the establishment of a silk manufacture. The thorough going measures by which Sixtus attempted to forward his plans are extremely characteristic of that pontiff. He commanded that mulberry-trees should be planted throughout the States of the Church in all gardens and vineyards, in every field and wood, over all hills and in every valley; wherever no corn was growing these trees were to find a place; for it was fixed that five of them should be planted on every rubbio of land, and the communes were threatened with heavy fines in case of neglect.

The woollen manufacture he sought also to promote, ‘ in order/ as he says, ‘ that the poor may have some means of earning their bread.’ To the first person who undertook this business he advanced funds from the treasury, accepting a certain number of pieces of cloth in return.

“But we must not attribute dispositions of this kind to Sixtus alone; this would be unjust to his predecessors. Agriculture and manufactures were favoured by Pius V. and Gregory XIII. also. It was not so much by the adoption of new paths that Sixtus distinguished himself from earlier pontiffs, as by the energy and decision with which he pursued that on which they had already entered. Therefore it is that his actions have remained fixed in the memory of mankind.”

Commerces too, was fostered by the Popes. On the Roman coast they founded the splendid harbour of Civita Vecchia, on the site of the ancient Centum Cellae. It was fortified by Urban VIII., and made a free port by Benedict XIV., in 1714. On the Adriatic coast they improved the harbour of Ancona, still the best and most flourishing port of the eastern coast of Italy.

A favourite subject of complaint against the Popes has been the desolation of the Campagna. We need say little on the subject here. In the first place, though the Campagna is uncultivated, it affords valuable pasturage. In the second, its desolation is not the fault of ’the Popes, but must be attributed to the results of barbarian invasions, and the wars of the tenth century. As to whether it could be reclaimed or not, opinions may differ. Certain it is that it would be difficult even in these days of speculation to find capital for the work, without thinking what it would have been in the past. (*) There was a loud outcry on the subject in the English press some years ago, but it was conveniently forgotten that in the Three Kingdoms there are full 27,000,000 acres of waste land,! much of which could be cultivated at little cost. When this is done it will be time to talk of the Popes neglecting the Campagna.

But in another place, where success was possible, they accomplished wonders in the reclamation of the waste lands of their territories. In the southern part of the Comarca lay the world-famed Pontine Marshes—a wide tract of marsh, and pool, and reedy lake, traversed by sluggish streams. Pontiff after pontiff endeavoured to drain them, but with only partial success. By command of Sixtus V., a great canal, known as the Fiume Sisto, was cut across them, and did much to facilitate subsequent operations. But it was reserved for Pius VI. to accomplish the difficult task. He purchased the rights of all the proprietors of the district, and then, by a wellplanned system of works, the whole wide area was drained, at the comparatively small cost of £347,104. A road was made across it; it was divided into farms and pasture lands, and soon about one-fifth of the whole (or 3414 hectares) was producing crops of corn year after year, while about one-sixth was producing Indian com, and the rest was a rich prairie, affording pasture to immense herds of cattle. Viewing him in his character of a temporal prince, this single act would have been enough to render the name of Pius VI. illustrious. But it did not stand alone. His life was one long labour for his people’s good, and if we hear little of these actions now, it is because the more striking events of his later years have lent at once a sadder and a brighter lustre to his name.

Such is a brief sketch of what the Popes have done for Italy, and more especially for that portion of it immediately subject to their sway. It is necessarily imperfect, for abler pens than ours would be required to relate in a few pages a narrative which would require volumes for its full development. But what we have written is sufficient for our purpose. We lay it before the reader without further comment; its moral is too plain to require that we should point it out. We pass on to the opening of a darker period, when, after the long peace of two centuries, the Papal States became once more the scene of war, as that Revolution arose, the climax of which has been reached in our own times by the spoliation of Rome.

CHAPTER II

THE FIRST YEARS OF THE REVOLUTION

§ 1. Pius VI. and the French Republic (1789—1799)

We have no intention of attempting, within the compass of a few pages, to trace the rise of the great Revolution which marked the close of the last century. It does not fall within our province; we have only briefly to refer to its results in Italy. Some of the greatest minds of Europe have been devoted to studying the history of the French Revolution of 1789, and to the investigation of the causes from which it arose, and the train of events which produced it. We have a far simpler task before us; for it is ours to deal with its consequences rather than its origin.

It is a mistake, into which many have fallen, to regard the Revolution as the offspring of maxims proclaimed for the first time by the so-called philosophers of the eighteenth century. Partisans of the Revolution have done their utmost to spread the belief that the patriarch of Ferney and his disciples were the apostles of a new revelation, the preachers of doctrines unheard before, and discovered by the light of reason acting in their powerful minds. For the sake of historical truth it is to be regretted that this theory has been adopted to a great extent by many of their opponents, for assuredly it is a most erroneous one.

The revolution of the eighteenth century was only another outbreak of that spirit of disorder which exists in every human society, and the workings of which we can trace far back in the Middle Ages. There was nothing new in the principles of Rousseau and Voltaire. They had been enunciated, though perhaps in less precise and elegant language, hundreds of years before either of those great leaders of the philosophes was born. The Hussites in Germany in the fifteenth century, and the Anabaptists at a later period, the Albigenses in France, the Lollards in England, preached the same doctrines that were heard in Paris during the Reign of Terror and the Commune. (*) The swords of Christian Europe were drawn against the Albigenses, not so much on account of their heresy, as because they were the foes of order and society, and strove to destroy the family, and abolish the sanctity of marriage; and again in our own day the same horrible doctrines are openly advocated by the more advanced apostles of the Revolution. In England, the Lollard preachers made use of expressions which might easily be mistaken for those of the mob orators of Paris. “My good friends,” said John Ball, “things cannot go on well in England, nor ever will, until everything shall be in common; when there shall neither be vassal nor lord, and all distinctions are levelled.”

Even in its outward features, the Revolution was to a great extent a repetition of what had occurred over and over again in former times. The burning of chateaux and the murdering of the seigneurs was a revival of the Jacquerie of the Middle Ages; while the tumults in Paris at the same period, when the people, wearing the red and blue badge of the city, rose in arms, and piked or drowned the nobles and their wives, bear a striking resemblance to the Jacobin insurrections, when pikemen, wearing the tricolour cockade, manifested their love for liberte, egalite, and fraternite, by hanging unfortunate aristocrats on the lanteme, or massacring them in the courtyards of prisons. Every attack of the philosophes on the religious orders had been anticipated by Wickliffe, Luther, and the rest. Even the very secret organizations which carried on the revolutionist propaganda had existed for centuries. (*)

It has been asserted also that the Revolution was the work of the great mass of the French people, a spontaneous uprising of the whole nation against feudal tyranny, which would have inevitably occurred even if Voltaire and all his followers had never written one word about politics, and if the secret societies had never been organized. The writers who maintain such opinions either have no real knowledge of the springs of political action, or wilfully close their eyes to what is going on around them every day. The poet and the historian may speak of the spontaneous and simultaneous rising of a whole people; but those who have studied the events of our own time, know that such movements never take place now, and probably never did. It would be strange if it were otherwise. The great mass of every people consists of men who have in themselves no initiative power. They will obey a strong impulse from without, they will follow where others lead, but they will let other men think for them and frame their political creed. This it is which makes universal suffrage a sham wherever it is practised. Revolutions and reactions alike are not the work of the masses of the people, but of a few men who are bold enough to bid for their support, and strong enough to secure and hold it. The people will not and never did act, except when moved to it by some external force.

In the case of the French Revolution, this external force was to be found in the party of the philosophes. Their great object was a revolt against authority throughout all Europe. That revolt began in France, because there they found the most favourable field of action; abuses loudly crying out for redress, a weak government, and the party of the old Jansenists with which they formed a close alliance.

The correspondence of Voltaire shows the vast extent of the revolutionary propaganda. It is surprising to see how the philosophes elaborated the policy of the Revolution, even in its smallest details. Frederic II., in one of his letters to Voltaire, fully developes the theory of the suppression of the religious orders. After remarking that in the neighbourhood of convents and monasteries the people are always more blindly “superstitious” than elsewhere, he goes on:—“There is no doubt that if one could destroy these strongholds of fanaticism, the people would become somewhat indifferent and lukewarm with regard to the objects of their veneration. It would be necessary then to destroy the cloisters, or at least to begin to diminish their number. The moment is come, for the French and Austrian governments are deep in debt, and have exhausted their resources in unsuccessful efforts to pay their debts. Rich abbeys and well endowed convents are a very inviting bait. I think, by representing to them the harm which is done by the monks to the people of their states, and the great number of monasteries in their provinces, as well as the ease with which they could pay part of their debts by making use of the treasures of these communities, which have no heirs, one could persuade them to commence the reform, and we may presume that after having enjoyed the secularization of a few benefices, their avarice would devour all the rest in succession…

We must begin by destroying those who inflame the hearts of the people with fanaticism; and when the people become indifferent, the bishops will become the lackeys of their sovereigns, who in the course of time will dispose of them just as they wish.” Is not this the theory on which almost every state in Europe has acted in the last eighty years? Frederic II. himself had the satisfaction of seeing it reduced to practice by Joseph II. of Austria.

A volume might be written upon the progress of the Revolution from the letters of Voltaire alone. (*)

In a letter addressed to the Marquis de Villeville in 1768, he alludes to the secret literary propaganda, which formed the most powerful instrument the revolutionists had to work with. “Damilaville,” he says, “has just died. He was the author of ‘Le Christianisme Devoile,’ and many other works. But it was never known; so long as he lived, his friends kept his secret with a fidelity worthy of philosophy. No one knows yet who was the author of the book published under the name of Frdret. In the last two years, more than sixty volumes against superstition have been printed in Holland. Their authors are absolutely unknown, though they might boldly declare themselves.... A thousand pens are writing, and a hundred thousand voices are raised, against abuses and in favour of tolerance. You may be sure that the revolution which has taken place in men’s minds within the last twelve years has had no slight influence in driving the Jesuits from so many states, and encouraging princes to strike at the idol of Rome before which they used to tremble. The people are very stupid, (bien sot), but the light is penetrating even to them.”

These few lines are evidence enough of the careful organization of the Revolution. We have only one more remark to make before passing on to the affairs of Italy. Everyone will acknowledge that at the period of the Revolution a thorough reform was necessary, not only in France but throughout Europe; but it must not be forgotten that this reform was actually in progress. In fact, it was his having entered upon a bolder policy of reform than his brother sovereigns that ruined Louis XVI., for there is no time more dangerous for a weak government than that during which it is engaged in effecting reform.

We are far from maintaining that unalloyed and unmitigated evil has resulted from the French Revolution. The whole course of history shows that there is no calamity so dark and disastrous that an overruling Providence cannot bring forth from it some lasting good. What we do assert is, that all the good which has been accomplished by the Revolution might have been gained, and would have been gained, by a course of gradual, peaceful, and prudent reform in every country in Europe; and that such good as it effected is completely outweighed by the deluge of misfortune which the Revolution poured out over Europe, and the deep and enduring evil which it has wrought to every nation, from the Mediterranean to the Northern sea.

The Revolution, once triumphant in France, its leaders resolved to force it upon all Europe. They wished to repeat the triumph of Islam, and spread their new doctrines by the sword. First Belgium was over-run, revolutionized and plundered. Then almost simultaneously they poured into Holland, Germany, Switzerland, and Italy. To the Italian people they proclaimed that they had come as deliverers, to restore them their freedom. Piedmont was conquered, the Austrians were driven from the north, Genoa and Venice saw their ancient republics destroyed, the Pope was deprived of the Legations, and subjected to a fine of thirty million francs, with the object of embarrassing the temporal government. Every gallery of art in Italy was plundered for the museums of Paris, war contributions were levied on all sides; while Jacobin apostles of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity organized the short-lived Ligurian, Cis-Alpine, Etrurian, and Parthenopean Republics. Yet it is quite certain that all this was accomplished by French generals and French political agents, without the consent and against the will of the Italian people. The Revolutionists of Italy were a mere handful, compared to the whole nation.

“You know very little of these people,” wrote Bonaparte, in a confidential letter to the Directory from his head quarters at Passariano, on October 7th, 1797. “They do not deserve to have the lives of 40,000 Frenchmen sacrificed for their sake. I see by your letters that you always set out from a false supposition; you picture to yourselves that liberty can do a great deal for an effeminate, superstitious, whimsical, and spiritless people. The things you wish me to do are miracles, and I am unable to effect them. I have not a single Italian in my army, except, I think, about 1500 blackguards picked up in the streets of the various cities of Italy, who are good for nothing but plundering. On this subject da not let yourselves be imposed upon by some Italian adventurers who are in Paris, or perhaps by some of the ministers themselves, who will tell you that there are 80,000 Italians underarms. For I have observed for some time, by means of the papers, that public opinion is strangely misled in France with regard to the Italians. Since I entered Italy I have received no assistance from the love of the people for liberty and equality, or at least it has been of a very feeble kind. But the good discipline of our army, and the great respect which we all have for religion, and which we have even carried to the extent of cajolery for its ministers, our just dealings, and, above all,, our great activity and promptitude in keeping down the disaffected and punishing those who declared against us, such have been the real allies of the army of Italy. This is the historical truth, but as for those things which are all very well in proclamations and printed discourses, they are nothing but fables.” ((*)

It would be difficult to find more convincing evidence of the fact that no Revolutionary or Infidel party worthy of the name existed in Italy before the advent of the armies of the French Republic. The revolutionary party grew up, and flourished, and became a power under foreign influence.

But the great object of the leaders of the Revolution was to destroy their chief foe, the Papacy. Already, in 1792, Pius VI. had been burned in effigy in the midst of an applauding crowd at the Palais Royal, and the National Assembly had declared Avignon and the Comtat Venaissin annexed to France, though it belonged to the Popes by the undeniable titles of a fair purchase and a long undisputed possession. In February, 1797, after the fall of Mantua, Bonaparte was sent to invade the Papal States and destroy the temporal power. Whatever were his motives, he stayed his march at Tolentino; and for the moment the Directory had to content itself with the advantages gained by the treaty concluded with the envoys of Pius VI. at the head quarters of the future emperor, and the additional assurance on his part that the pontifical government was now so weakened that it could not survive much longer.

Meanwhile, they took active steps to hasten the end. At Rome a permanent conspiracy was established at the French Embassy, where Joseph Bonaparte, as the ambassador of the Republic, was the centre of a knot of conspirators.

On the 28th of December, 1797, came the first open attempt at insurrection. General Duphot, a hotheaded young man, one of the military attaches of the French Embassy, put himself at the head of a handful of the disaffected, and led them to the attack of one of the posts of the pontifical troops. In the ensuing skirmish a chance shot struck down the French general, and the rabble which followed him dispersed in all directions. It was just the opportunity for which the Directory had been waiting in order to break the treaty of Tolentino and seize upon Home. Joseph Bonaparte left the city the morning after the émeute, and a column of troops was immediately detached from his brother’s army in the north of Italy and ordered to march on Rome. It consisted of General Berthier’s division and 6000 Poles under Dombrowski, and it received the ominous title of l’armée vengeresse—the avenging army. As they advanced through the Papal territory they met with no sympathy, no assistance, from the inhabitants, who looked upon them as invaders rather than deliverers. “The army,” Berthier wrote to Bonaparte, “has met with nothing but the most profound consternation in this country, without seeing one glimpse of the spirit of independence; only one single patriot came to me, and offered to set at liberty 2000 convicts.” This liberal offer of a re-inforcement of 2000 scoundrels the French general thought it better to decline.

It would have been strange if the inhabitants had joined the French. The soldiers of the “avenging army” plundered the Santa Casa at Loretto, and sacked and burned the town of Osimo. At length, on the 10th of February, Berthier appeared before Rome. All night his watch-fires were seen blazing along the slopes of the Monte Mario, each group of men lighting two, in order to impress the Romans with an exaggerated idea of their numbers. The morning light showed the French batteries in position, as if to bombard the city. The Romans were with the Pope almost to a man, and a desperate defence would have been possible; but, wishing to avoid a useless effusion of blood, Pius VI. ordered the gates to be thrown open, contenting himself with addressing, through the commandant of St. Angelo, a protest to the French general, in which he declared that he yielded only to overwhelming force.

A few days after, a self-elected deputation of Romans waited upon Berthier, to request him to proclaim Rome a republic, under the protection of France. As Berthier had been one of the most active agents in getting up this deputation, he, of course, immediately yielded to their request. The French general then demanded of the Pope that he should formally resign his temporal power, and accept the new order of things. His reply was the same as that of every Pope of whom such a demand has been made: “We cannot—we will not!” In the midst of a violent thunder-storm he was torn from his palace, forced into a carriage, and carried away to Viterbo, and thence to Siena, where he was kept a prisoner for three months. Rome was ruled by the iron hand of a military governor. Such was the fury of the men of the Trastevere at the loss of their Pope, that it was months before a French soldier or a Roman Republican dared to enter their quarter alone. Deprived of all other weapons, the daggers of the Romans often drank the blood of the invaders. At Ferentino, at Veroli, at Alatri, Frosinone and Terracina, the people rose in arms to the cry of “Vivano Gesu e Maria!" but French grape-shot soon decided the unequal struggle.

Meanwhile, alarmed at the rising in Italy, the Directory were conveying the Pope to a French prison. As he passed through the north' of Italy, subjected, as he was, to every insult and indignity, everywhere the people knelt to receive his blessing, and more than once he had to exert his influence to protect his guards from the menacing crowds that gathered round them. After a short stay at Grenoble he was transferred to the fortress of Valence, where, broken down by the fatigues of his journey, he died on August 19th, 1799, praying for his enemies with his last breath.

A shout of exultation arose from the Revolutionists of Europe, and they loudly proclaimed that with Pius VI., the Papacy, their arch-enemy, had expired for ever.

§ 2. Italy under the First Empire (1800—1815)

Pius VI. was lying in his humble grave at Valence, but already the Divine vengeance had visibly fallen upon his persecutors. Victory had departed from the hitherto invincible standards of France. The Army of the Faith, led by Cardinal Buffo, and formed only of the half-armed peasants of Calabria and the Basilicata, had driven the French from Southern and Central Italy, while the Austro-Russian army of Suvaroff had crossed the Alps, and gained victory after victory in the north, driving the French armies before them, until the tricolour waved only over the closely beleaguered walls of Genoa. On the 8th of January, 1800, the last French army in Italy had been crushed on the field of Novi. A month later the Conclave met at Venice, under the protection of the arms of Austria and Russia, and of the English fleet, and on February 14th, Cardinal Gregorio Barnabo Chiaramonte was elected Pope, and, in memory of his martyred predecessor, took the name of Pius VII.

Hardly had he assumed the tiara, when it was suggested to him that, in view of the disturbed state of Italy, he should transfer his see to Vienna. He met the proposal with a direct refusal; he would rule the Christian world from no capital but his own.

The peace which followed Marengo opened for Pius VII. the way to Rome. On June 21st, seven days after the great battle which had decided the fate of Italy, he entered Ancona. At the gates of the city six hundred young men, dressed in gala costume, took the horses from his carriage, and attaching to it long ropes, wreathed with flowers, drew him into the city amid the enthusiastic shouts of the people, and the thunder of the salutes fired from the forts, the citadel, and the Russian fleet in the harbour. Everywhere throughout the Papal States he received the same welcome, and on July 3rd his triumphal progress came to an end at Rome.

His first care was to repair the evil results of the French Republican occupation. The chief of these was a debased currency. This he ordered to be at once withdrawn from circulation, and at a loss to his treasury of 1,500,000 scudi, or nearly £400,000, he issued a new coinage to replace it.

The next year witnessed the ratification of the concordat, and the restoration of religion in France, and three years after Pius VII. journeyed to Paris, to place the Imperial crown upon the brow of Napoleon Bonaparte. Hitherto but little fault could be found with Napoleon’s conduct towards Pius VII., but now it became evident that he entertained designs against the temporal sovereignty of the Pontiff and the freedom of the Church. As soon as the object of his journey was accomplished, the Pope was anxious to return to Rome; but on various pretexts his departure was delayed from day to day, until at length he began to perceive that he was virtually a prisoner. It was now proposed to him that he should permanently fix his see at Paris, a quarter of the city being assigned to him, and endowed with special privileges, like the Patriarchal quarter at Constantinople. He rejected the proposal as firmly and decisively as he had refused that of a residence at Vienna, made to him after his election at Venice. It was hinted that the Emperor could enforce what he suggested. The reply of Pius showed that from the first he had regarded the journey to Paris with well-grounded suspicion. He had, he said, executed a conditional act of abdication before leaving Rome; it was safe in the hands of Cardinal Pignatelli, and the moment he was deprived of his liberty he would cease to be Pius VII., and become once more the Benedictine monk, Barnabo Chiaramonte. From that hour all obstacles were removed that had hitherto been placed in the way of his return to Rome.

Shortly after, the Emperor assumed at Milan the iron crown of Lombardy. Italy was now, in all but the name, a portion of the French Empire. The north, with the exception of Venetia, which had been assigned to Austria, was styled the kingdom of Italy, the Emperor appointing as its viceroy his stepson, Eugene de Beauharnais, while to his brother Joseph he gave the crown of Naples. The king of Sardinia had sought refuge in the island from which his kingdom derived its name. The king of Naples, deprived of his continental dominions, had to reside at Palermo, under the protection of the English fleet. In the pontifical territory alone an Italian sovereign still retained his independence.

But this was not to last long. Napoleon soon found the means of forcing a quarrel upon the Pope. He had in vain endeavoured to persuade Pius VII. to consent to a divorce between his brother, Jerome Bonaparte, and his American wife, for no other reason than because it was his will that he should contract some nobler alliance. He had sought to make the Pope his subject, or at least his tributary, and to induce him to close his ports against the enemies of the Empire. On every point where acquiescence in his wishes would have involved the least violation of right and justice, he received an unqualified and distinct refusal. “We have done everything to maintain concord and good understanding,” said Pius VII.; “it is our wish to do so still, provided regard be had to principles. On these we shall be found inflexible. Where conscience is concerned, they should wring nothing from us, were they to flay us alive.”

Flushed with the victory of Eckmuhl, Napoleon resolved to bring the dispute with Rome to a decisive issue. He was at the summit of his power. From

Moscow to Maxirid, throughout all Europe, only one crowned head refused to bow before him. He could not overcome the resistance of Pius by specious arguments, by threats, or by promises. He was determined to use open force to crush it. From the conquered capital of Austria he wrote to the viceroy, Eugene, a letter which was really addressed to the Pope, and which he ordered to be presented to him by M. Alquier, the Imperial ambassador at Rome.

“They say,” wrote Napoleon, “that I am to be denounced to Christendom. Nothing but the most profound ignorance of the age in, which we live could have suggested such a notion. The date involves an error of a thousand years. The Pope who should dare attempt this would cease to be a Pope in my eyes. I would regard him as Anti-Christ. What does Pius VII. expect from denouncing me to Christendom? To put my throne under an interdict? to excommunicate me? Does he imagine that their arms will fall from the hands of my soldiers?” The letter ended with an order to General Miollis to put a division of the army of Italy in motion, and occupy Rome.

On the 2nd of February, 1808, the invaders entered the Eternal City, the castle of St. Angelo being surrendered under a formal protest. Next morning General Miollis and M. Alquier presented themselves to the Pope, with the object of laying the Emperor’s demands before him; but he calmly told them that so long as Rome was occupied he should consider himself a prisoner in the Quirinal, and that negotiations were therefore impossible.

For a time Napoleon took no further steps, in the hope that the threat of being deprived of his dominions would shake the firmness of the Pope. Then it was announced that the Pontifical States were to be annexed to the Empire. No sooner was this known at Rome than Pius VII. published a bull, formally excommunicating all who were concerned in the spoliation of his territory, but mentioning no one by name. Napoleon immediately ordered that the Pope should either abdicate his temporal power, or be conveyed a prisoner to France. In pursuance of his orders, on the night of May 17th, 1809, a detachment of French troops, commanded by General Radet, and guided by some Jews, surrounded the Quirinal, scaled the walls, forced the doors with axes, and disarmed the Swiss guard.

Pius had risen, and, accompanied by Cardinals Pacca and Consalvi, calmly awaited the approach of the intruders in the hall of audience. Radet entered the room, axe in hand, followed by the soldiers, and demanded in the name of the Emperor the immediate abdication of Pius VII., as far as his temporal rightswere in question.

Pius replied in a calm, determined tone, “If you have thought it your duty to execute such orders for the Emperor because you have sworn allegiance and obedience to him, in what manner, think you, ought we to sustain the rights of the Holy See, to which we are bound by so many oaths? We cannot, we ought not, we will not, relinquish the temporal sovereignty of Rome or of the States. The temporal dominion is not ours that we can abandon it. It belongs to the Church, and we are only its administrators.' The Emperor can act as he pleases, but he can never obtain that from us. After all we have done for him, this is not the requital we had a right to expect.”

No other reply had been anticipated. Like his predecessor, Pius VII. accompanied only by his secretary, Cardinal Pacca, was conducted to a travelling carriage, which drove out of Rome by one of the northern gates. The French troops were under arms in the streets; the garrison had been strengthened by a division of the Neapolitan army, sent up by forced marches by Murat. The military arrangements, the surprise of the Quirinal, the hurried removal of the Pope, all were so many proofs that the French feared a rising of the Romans in defence of their sovereign. But though the perfect execution of the plan prevented this, the Romans gave ample proof of their devotion to the imprisoned Pontiff Despite the vigilance of the French, on the night between the 10th and 11th of June, unknown hands affixed the bull of excommunication to the doors of St. Peter’s, St John Lateran, and Sta. Maria Maggiore. The farewell address of Pius to the Roman, people was to be seen in all the places where proclamations were usually posted up; and on the walls of the public buildings, the lines in which Dante alludes to the captivity of Boniface VIII ((*) were inscribed, and restored as often as they were effaced by the French police.

Pius VII. was not the only one on whom the doors of a French prison were closed by order of the Emperor. Cardinals, bishops, priests—in a word, all who defended his cause—shared his fate. The memoirs of Azeglio supply a picture of the impression caused by these acts in Italy at the time. The future leader of the “Juste Milieu” was then a boy at Turin, and his father, the old Marquis d’Azeglio, nobly exerted himself for the relief of the imprisoned priests. As Piedmont was on the high road to France, priests of all ages were continually arriving and departing, “scattered here and there like withered leaves before the stormy will of the despot, who, having lost all judgment, only retained his talent.”

The prisons, and especially the Alpine fortress of Fenestrella, were crowded with priests and prelates. “Strange to think,” exclaims Azeglio, “what those prelates had been a few years before, and what they had now become! To think of that ignoble mixture of corruption and intrigue of which the Roman court was composed, and yet to see such noble and strong natures emerge from its depths—men who dared say * No to Napoleon, then held immutable and eternal as fate! They left their fair palaces under the bright skies of Rome, to enter calmly the dungeons of a fortress upon which the snow fell in June. Could they know when or how their prison doors would open? Who amongst them could then foresee Rostopchine and the Beresina?”

Such is a reflex of the impression made by the persecution in Italy. For the sake of this we have given Azeglio’s words in their integrity, though it is evident that he has allowed prejudice to blind his better judgment. When did “noble and strong natures ” come forth from the depths of corruption? When did intriguers defy a despot for conscience sake? Is it not the highest testimony to the worth and virtue of the court of Rome, that at the call of conscience its prelates left their palaces for the snow-clad heights of Fenestrella?

Napoleon was now the undisputed master of Italy from the Alps to the Gulf of Taranto, save where among the rocks of Calabria a few brave peasants still defiedthe legions of Murat. Let us briefly review his policy in the government of the peninsula, the effects of his rule, and the attitude of the Italian people with regard to it.

Though at St. Helena Napoleon spoke and wrote of his having had the intention of raising Italy to the condition of a united and independent nation, (*) there is little doubt that his Italian policy was directed solely with the view of making Italy a province of the French Empire, and keeping her so. The decree of February 17th, 1810, which formally annexed the States of the Church to France, declared that these territories henceforth formed an integral portion of the Empire, being divided into two departments, the department of Rome, and the department of Thrasymene. The City of Rome was to be the second city of the Empire, and to give the title of king to the heir apparent of the imperial crown; while in imitation of the old Carlovingian Empire, it was decreed, that the French Emperors were to be crowned first at Paris, and afterwards, before the tenth year of their reign, in St. Peter’s at Rome. (+) In the same way the territories of Piedmont, the republic of Genoa, and the duchies of Tuscany, Parma, and Piacenza, were united to France, and divided into French departments, while to a few provinces in the north, ruled by the viceroy, Eugene, was given the anomalous title of the Kingdom of Italy.

Immense works were undertaken in the passes of the Alps, especially in the Simplon, by which, so far as military operations were concerned, the Alpine frontier of Italy was abolished, the strong places of ‘ Piedmont were dismantled, and an entrenched camp was formed at Alessandria, “as the base of the French power in Italy.” ((*) In the south, first Joseph Bonaparte and then Murat received from the hands of the Emperor the tributary sceptre of Naples.

The conscription ruthlessly swept the youth of Italy into the French armies, to follow French marshals and generals, and add fresh lustre to the laurels of their conqueror. In the wars of Napoleon, thousands of Italians perished among the hills of Spain, on the plains of Germany, on the snow-clad wastes of Russia. According to Cesar Cantu, 37,000 men from the kingdom of Italy were drafted off to the Austrian war of 1809; 17,000 of them never saw Italy again. Upwards of 40,000 Italians were engaged in the war in Spain, and 30,000 are said to have perished by sickness, exposure, and the weapons of the allied armies. From the north of Italy alone 26,000 men took part in the campaign of Russia. Few of them survived. Every historian of the war has remarked how fearful was the mortality among the Italian regiments, brought up in the sunny south, and now exposed to an almost Arctic winter. On the same day when the news of the disasters of the Grande Armée was announced in Italy, the viceroy received orders to levy a conscription of 80,000 men, to fill the wasted ranks of the imperial army. Such was the treatment Italy received at the hands of Napoleon I. He regarded it as in no less degree a part of the French Empire than Normandy or Languedoc.

The ever-recurring conscriptions produced their natural effect. The land was drained of its best men. Especially in the country, food was scarce and dear, life and property were insecure, brigandage was rife on all sides, for hundreds of conscripts, after deserting from their regiments, lurked in the forests and mountains, and continually reinforced the banditti of the country.

And yet with all this the Italians made no effort to free themselves from the blighting military rule of the foreigner. Again and again the fairest opportunities occurred for effecting their liberation, but they allowed them to pass unregarded. In 1809 the archduke, John, commanding the Austrian army of Italy, issued a proclamation, calling upon them to rise against the oppressor, promising in the name of the Emperor Francis that, if they did so, and success attended his arms, they should he free and respected in Europe; that the Head of the Church would receive back his States; that a constitutional regime would be established, and the country and its soil would be free from all foreign domination.

“Italians," he said, “listen to the voice of truth and reason. The first tells you that you are the slaves of France, and that it is for her only that you pour out your fortunes and your blood. It is clear that the kingdom of Italy is a dream, an empty name without reality; but the levies of men, the taxes, the insults heaped upon you, are only too true and real. The voice of reason tells you that, as long as you remain in this state of degradation, you cannot be respected, you cannot enjoy peace, you cannot be Italians.... Truth and reason alike tell you that you can never have a more favourable opportunity of freeing Italy from the yoke which weighs upon her.”

Had Italy risen like the Tyrol, the power of Napoleon in the Italian peninsula would have perished in the year 1809. Italy might have been freed almost at a blow, for the country was drained of troops; but the Italians heard the proclamation of Austria in silent apathy, and still sent their sons to swell the ranks of France.

Again in 1813 and 1814, though supported by the Austrian and Anglo-Sicilian armies, the Italians maintained the same attitude of inaction; they spoke, indeed, of their desire to be free, but that was all While Germany and Spain, Holland and Belgium, rose like one man against their conqueror, Italy remained sullen and silent. Southward of the Alpine range, the proclamations and promises of the allies met with no response. The Italians took no notice of them. It was only when their country had been freed by foreign swords, that they loudly claimed the fulfilment of promises of which they had never fulfilled the conditions, and charged the allies with breaking faith with them, forgetful of the fact that they had again and again rejected every offer made by the allied sovereigns. While Europe was rising in defence of the trampled rights of nations, they only had allowed the flower of their youth to be drafted off by the thousand to. support the tottering throne of their oppressor.

§ 3. Italy and the Congress of Vienna

The fall of Napoleon restored to liberty Pius VII. and the imprisoned prelates and priests. The Pope was received in Borne with even greater enthusiasm than that which had greeted him after his election. He was “borne into the city on the shoulders of the most celebrated artists of the day, foremost amongst whom was the great Canova.”

At Vienna the representatives of all the nations of Europe were assembled in that famous congress whose decrees regulated for forty years the relations -of the European states. It was fondly hoped that the Revolution was dead, that its strength had been sapped by Napoleonic Imperialism, and finally destroyed by the victories of the Allies. What, then, remained to be done, except to rectify the boundaries of the various states, and establish a new order of things, which, by careful adjustments, would secure at once enduring peace and its own stability?

With the general affairs of Europe we have no concern, except in so far as they indirectly bear upon those of Italy. It is only in their relations to that country that we shall consider the treaties of Vienna.

The peninsula was for the most part restored to the condition in which it had been before the Revolution, the only important modifications being those concerning the former territories of the two great republics of the north, both of which had received their death blow at the hands of the Jacobin republic of Paris. The new constitution of Italy, determined upon at Vienna, was, then, briefly as follows:—

1. The King of Sardinia was restored to his kingdom as it existed in 1792; but to Savoy and Piedmont were added the territories of the ancient republic of Genoa as a duchy.

2. The States of the Church were restored with the exception of a few square miles of territory on the left bank of the Po, which river was now made the boundary between the States and the possessions of Austria; in all other directions the boundaries were those of 1792. Austria retained the right of garrison in Ferrara and Commachio.

3. Under the title of Ferdinand I., King of the Two Sicilies, Ferdinand IV. of Naples was placed over his dominions as they were in 1792.

4. In the north, the territories of the Republic of Venice were added to the former possessions of Austria, under the title of the Lombardo-Venetian kingdom. Istria was united to the Austrian kingdom of Illyria, and a third Austrian kingdom was formed of Dalmatia, Ragusa, and Cattaro.

5. In the Duchies, Modena, Reggio, Mirandola, Massa, and Carrara were restored to the house of Este. The Duchy of Parma was assigned for life to the Empress Maria Louisa; on her death it was to revert to the Duchess of Lucca. The Archduke Ferdinand of Austria was restored as Grand Duke of Tuscany, and to his territories were joined some minor possessions of the kingdom of Naples in the Island of Elba and along the Tuscan coast.

6. Corsica remained in the possession of France, and Malta and Gozo in that of England. The Republic of San Marino and the principality of Monaco were left in the same state of independence as before the Revolution.

The chief result of these arrangements was to give to Austria a pre-eminence in the north of Italy, which the policy of Metternich extended more or less to the whole peninsula. Within the Congress, and in those circles which were formed in the higher political society at Vienna at the time, and exerted an influence upon the deliberation of the Congress, none the less potent because it was unseen, two rival parties might be said to exist with regard to the affairs of Italy, or perhaps it would be more correct to say that two leading views were current. There was a pro-Austrian and an anti-Austrian view. Some were anxious to limit the power of Austria in Italy, or to exclude her entirely from the country south of the Alps others on the contrary—and this party was more numerous—regarded the establishment of Austrian influence in the peninsula as a wise and statesman-like act. Austria, they urged, was a Conservative power, and her presence in Italy might be regarded as nothing more than a useful counterpoise to the revolutionary party which had come into existence under the Republican and Napoleonic régime. The illustrious Count de Maistre was one of those whose influence with the Emperor Alexander was exerted against Austria. His wish was to obtain for his sovereign, Victor Emmanuel I. of Sardinia, the whole of the north of Italy, which he hoped to see constituted into a powerful kingdom. He only succeeded to a very limited extent. To his efforts the acquisition of Genoa by the House of Savoy was largely due.

There is little doubt that his was the most statesman-like policy. Had Austria retired from Italy in 1815, if on the one hand the Italian sovereigns would have been deprived of the Austrian protectorate against the more turbulent spirits in their states, on the other hand the Revolutionists would have lost that powerful lever, which they were able to use from 1821 to 1866, when “War to the Foreigner!” was a cry that won for them many devoted followers throughout Italy. Austria would have lost but little by the change. She would still be secure along her south-western frontiers, for, even without Venetia and the fortresses of the north, she would have a far better and stronger barrier in that huge mountain wall extending from the Tyrol to Illyria, where every pass is fortified by nature, and every man is a soldier.

At the same time it must be remembered that, reasoning only from abstract principles of policy and the experience of the sixty years that have elapsed since then, a very false view would be formed of the course of action adopted by the Congress of Vienna. The members of that Congress and the allied sovereigns were only free to a certain extent in their choice of a European policy towards Italy. When Austria joined the great coalition against Napoleon, it was distinctly stipulated by a secret article of the treaty of Toeplitz of Sept. 9th, 1813, that the Austrian monarchy should be reconstituted on the same basis as before the war of the Revolution. This secured to Austria all the territories which she had formerly held to the north of the Po, and these are enumerated in the 93rd, 94th, and 95th articles of the treaty of Vienna.

To re-establish the old Republic of Venice would have been impossible. That republic was an aristocratic oligarchy, far more like the ancient republics of Greece and Rome than anything existing in modern times. Its rulers were men who would have regarded the Revolutionary doctrine of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity as the rankest sedition; but the spirit which once animated it was long extinct—a spirit which led to noble deeds, more than outweighing its many defects and faults. Venice had fallen by the folly of its own people, and the cowardice of the senate and the last of the Doges; and to restore the outward form of the old republic would have been to raise a lifeless image of the once proud Queen of the Adriatic. Equally impossible was it to erect in its stead a modem republic; it would have inevitably degenerated into something like the French Republic on a smaller scale, and it would have been a permanent danger to the peace of both Italy and Austria. The abolition of Venetian independence was therefore decreed by the stem fiat of events which it was impossible to revoke, and which had been the work of centuries. Surrounded as it was by Austrian territory, Venice naturally fell under the Austrian dominion.

Efforts were made to add still more to the Lombardo-Venetian kingdom, and to extend the Austrian frontiers to the south of the Po, by the annexation of the Legations; but this proposal was met by a determined resistance on the part of Cardinal Consalvi, the able minister and representative of Pius VII., who, it was noted at the time, alone, of all the Italian sovereigns, presented a bold front against any aggression upon his independence; and these territories remained, a portion of the patrimony of the Holy See, the right of maintaining garrisons in the fortresses of Ferrara and Comacchio being, however, conceded to Austria for purely military reasons, as it was insisted that in event of war the possession of these places would be necessary for the defence of the north of Italy. Austria possessed a like right of garrison for the same reasons at Piacenza, which place it was stipulated she should hold until the possible extinction of the male line of the Spanish Bourbons in the duchy of Parma, when that state would revert to her, and Piacenza would fall under the rule of Sardinia according to the treaty of Aixla-Chapelle, concluded in 1748. (*)

In the same way the establishment of the House of Austria in the duchies of Tuscany and Modena was the direct result, not of the Congress of Vienna, but of former treaties, whose validity had been confirmed by the fact that they had been in force for nearly a century. When by the peace of 1736 Lorraine was annexed to France, that transfer of territory was made under the express condition that the second son of the Empress Maria Theresa, as the representative of the House of Lorraine, should receive the grand duchy of Tuscany. This treaty was signed by Spain, Sardinia, and Germany, and guaranteed by France, and it might henceforth be said that Tuscany belonged to the younger branch of the House of Hapsburgh by the same title by which Lorraine belonged to France. By the treaty concluded at Vienna in 1753 the third son of Maria Theresa married the daughter of the last Duke of Modena, and thus by a collateral descent the line of Este was prolonged, and another branch of the Austrian Imperial family established in Italy; established not by conquest or force, but by the free consent of Europe, and certainly not against the will of the people of the duchies of Modena, Reggio, and Mirandola.

It will thus be seen that nothing can be more erroneous or opposed to the facts of history than to speak of the Congress of Vienna, as some writers have done, as if it were an arbitrary parcelling out of the people of Italy among a few sovereigns, whether they willed or not. We have seen that, on the contrary, it was the re-establishment of a pre-existing order of things, and that it was guided, not by the arbitrary dictates of despotic ambition, but by fixed and irrevocable principles, founded for the most part upon treaties of long standing, and to which all western Europe was pledged. And though the enlightenment of the present day has come to take a very different view of treaty obligations from that which prevailed sixty years ago, we confess we are old-fashioned enough to regret the days when the plighted word of a monarch or a nation w'as supposed to bind them, and treaties were worth something more than the paper they were written on.

We shall see presently that, far from being repugnant to the people of Italy, the arrangements of Vienna were approved of at the time by the vast majority of the Italians themselves, whom they most deeply concerned. But before speaking of this we must refer to the private engagements entered into by Austria with some of the sovereigns of Italy, which, standing on a different basis from the treaties of Vienna, must be considered separately.

There can be only one opinion as to the treaties between Austria and the sovereigns of Naples and Sardinia, by which Ferdinand I. and Victor Emanuel I. pledged themselves to do nothing in their respective kingdoms contrary to the political system adopted by Austria in the Lombardo-Venetian kingdom. Such treaties, were, indeed, impossible to execute or observe, for the simple reason that if they were observed in their literal sense they would reduce both those sovereigns to the position of Austrian viceroys. The only effect of these engagements was to compel one of them to resign later on. When he was threatened by the Revolution, and found himself forced to choose between breaking his plighted word and resigning his crown, he chose the latter course. He knew then, perhaps, that in entering / into the engagement with Austria he had made a rash and unwise'promise, but once it was made he felt himself bound to observe it; for he knew nothing of the modern doctrine of political expediency and the worthlessness of treaties.

On the other hand, no one who is not blinded by prejudice will assert that treaties of mutual defence between Austria and the duchies of Modena and Tuscany had in them anything contrary to international rights. In the event of the extinction of the younger branches of the House of Hapsburgh ruling in those states, their territories would, according to treaties acknowledged by all Europe, revert to Austria, who had therefore a direct and recognized interest in preserving the existing order of things in the duchies. Say what we will about the wisdom of those treaties, we can no more deny the right of Austria to make them, than we can deny the treatymaking power of any state in Europe.

With regard to the attitude of the people of Italy at the time towards the decisions of 1815, there can be no mistake. In the south, Murat had held his ground only by using the sword and torch with ruthless activity, wherever opposition showed itself. When in March, 1815, in the hope of making himself king of Italy, he unfurled his flag against Austria at the head of a Franco-Neapolitan army of 40,000 men (*) and invaded Central Italy, he nowhere met with assistance or encouragement from the inhabitants, and the expedition cost him his throne, and, later on, his life; yet Murat proclaimed that his object was to establish an independent kingdom of United Italy.

Again in February and March, 1814, Colonel Catinelli, of the Anglo-Sicilian army, travelled through Italy for the express purpose of, discovering what were the sentiments of the people. “I had orders,” he says, “to ascertain wherever I went the wishes of the people with regard to the political re-organization. It was easy for me to execute these orders, because I wore an English uniform, and I found everywhere a curious crowd in which there were always well-informed persons who came and asked to speak to me. At Naples they wished for the Bourbons; at Rome, at Spoleto, at Foligno, at Perugia, for the Pope; at Florence for the Archduke Ferdinand; at Modena for the Archduke Francis, the heir of the House of Este; at Verona for the Emperor Francis. On the day after the émeute at Milan, ((*) that is to say on April 21st, 1814, I was at Novi, on the road from Milan to Genoa. There I passed several hours with a certain Baron Trecchi, a Milanese, who was on his way from Milan to Genoa as a deputy of the Gonfalonieri party, to try and induce Lord William Bentinck to occupy Milan with his English troops, while the Austrians were delayed upon the Mincio by the convention of Schiarino-Rizzino. His conversation was a continual lament, diversified from time to time with the most angry exclamations against his fellow citizens and the Lombards in general; who he said were all—thanks to their retrograde prejudices—stupidly and blindly devoted to the Austrians.” (+)

If other evidence were wanting, we might point to the reception accorded to the restored sovereigns. Alike at Naples, Rome, Florence, Milan, and Turin, the restoration of the old governments was hailed with joy and pleasure by the people. The partisans and servants of the Imperial regime, who lost power with its downfall, were of course disappointed and discontented, but they were in a miserable minority, even if we add to them the philosophic reformers, who would have wished to see an ideal Italy constituted in a few days by the fiat of the Congress, regardless alike of the desires of the people on the one hand and the obligations of existing treaties on the other.|

It is an undoubted historical fact that in 1815, of all the states and sovereigns of Italy only one state and one sovereign received any accession of territory against the will or without the consent of its inhabitants. That state was Piedmont. The Genoese, proud of their ancient republic, once the rival of Venice in the sovereignty of the seas—the republic which had numbered among its sons Andrew Doria and Christopher Columbus, which had fought with the Turks and conquered territories upon the distant shores of the Euxine—longed to see their old form of government restored. Lord William Bentinck, in the name of England, promised that it should be so, and strenuously, but vainly, exerted himself to have his promise fulfilled by the Allies. “The Genoese,” he truly said in one of his dispatches, “universally desire the restoration of their ancient republic. They dread above all other arrangements their annexation to Piedmont, to the inhabitants of which there always has existed a peculiar aversion.”

On principle, the manner in which the transfer of Genoa was effected is indefensible. In the debates on the subject in the English Parliament no such defence was attempted. The ministry of the day and their supporters contented themselves with asserting that if the Allies had acted against the wishes of the Genoese it was only for the general good of Europe. The object of the Congress was to make the kingdom of Sardinia a powerful state for the defence of Italy against France. The weakness and disunion of that kingdom and the Republic of Genoa had, it was urged, enabled Bonaparte to overrun Italy. “Genoa,” said Lord Harrowby, in the debate in the Upper House, “was neither able nor willing to defend the passes from France to Italy, and nothing could therefore be more natural under the circumstances in which she stood, than to consign her to a power which had for ages been considered as the natural guardian of the Alps.” ((*)

Such were the arrangements made by the Congress of Vienna with regard to Italy, arrangements which, with one exception, that of Genoa, were agreeable tn the wishes of the Italian people. We grant that there were defects in this re-constitution of Italy; what human arrangement is there which is free from them? But, notwithstanding this, had the restored governments been permitted to freely devote themselves to the development of the resources of their states, and the promotion of the happiness of their people, Italy would have made rapid and lasting progress. As it was, the governments of Italy had to devote much of their attention to the defence of their very existence; what wonder, then, that less was accomplished than might have been anticipated? He builds but Slowly, who, like the men that rebuilt the walls of Jerusalem, has to hold the sword as well as the trowel.

CHAPTER III

CARBONARISM

§ 1. The Organization of the Carbonari

There are few tasks more difficult than to trace the origin and the history of a secret political organization; and this difficulty does not (as might at first sight be expected) arise so much from the dearth of materials, as from their abundance and their very nature. These materials naturally divide themselves into three great classes. There are the statements of the friends and members of the association, those of its enemies, finally, such evidence as may be afforded by judicial proceedings in which the association is involved.

But the first not unfrequently strive to hide all the faults and crimes of the body to which they belong, and extol—often exaggerate—what it has been able to effect. At times they may even do this without knowing it The political maxims of the society have become their creed, its method of action their rule of life, its deeds a portion of their own lifework. They have battled with the world, generally, it must be confessed, without success; there have been times when every man’s hand has been against them; the idea, the hope set before them has been the object of their lives. What wonder, then, that even natural self-love, without any other motive, blinds them to all that is evil in their organization and its work, while it surrounds their successes with a halo of light.

Then there are the foes of the organization, often the men that have been foremost in the struggle against it. They know that this mysterious power is working in the dark to undermine all they obey or venerate. Their eyes are strained to catch the least glimpse of its constitution, its action and its progress, but they are too apt to build wild theories on the scanty and disconnected information they thus collect. To them all that is done by the organization is necessarily evil; and they are at times too ready to listen to everything that can tell against it, without having the power to judge calmly of the evidence before them.

Finally, there are the accounts given by those who have deserted the ranks of the organization, of spies, and informers, a race which no secret association has ever yet been strong enough or wary enough to exclude from its ranks. But their evidence is often the least trustworthy of all; for belonging, as they usually do, to the outer circles of the society, and having themselves but an imperfect knowledge of its action, in their anxiety to satisfy their employers they are too apt to supplement the information they really possess by calling conjecture or imagination to their aid, and they too often seek to justify their own treachery by doing all in their power to further darken the darker shades in the character and deeds of those they have betrayed.

For such reasons as these we have a difficult work before us, when we endeavour to trace the history of a secret association. If we know little on some points, on others we have abundant evidence, though all this evidence has to be received with more or less distrust, and we have to beware alike of the eulogies of the friends of the association and the invectives of its foes.

We may, however, regard as true statements which receive confirmation from the consistent accounts of various witnesses (using the word in its widest sense) on both sides of the question, especially when those statements are made at various times and in various places, and freely repeated long after the state of things had passed away in which those who made them could be deterred by fear or encouraged by hope of reward. Again, we may believe of an association of men, the good regarding it which is admitted to be true even by its foes; and similarly we need not hesitate to charge it with those errors, faults, or crimes, which are directly or indirectly acknowledged by its friends. So far we will 'tread upon safe ground.

In drawing up the following sketch of the Carbonari, and subsequently in describing the other associations, which to a greater or less extent may be said to have arisen from it, we have been guided by the foregoing considerations. Our object has been to discover the truth and nothing more. The mere seeker after sensation will find little in our pages to gratify his taste, though it would have been easy to present to the reader more than one wondrous story from the records of Italian conspiracy and intrigue. However inviting they might be, we have excluded them from our pages, because they might not bear the rigid tests to which we would not fear to see every statement made by us subjected.

Secret societies have for centuries existed in Europe under different names, and with various objects. In the Middle Ages the terrible Vehme Gericht flourished in Germany, and cited prince and peasant alike before its secret tribunals. In France and England tho Freemasons held their lodges and councils, and in Italy similar organizations arose scattered over the country, and played a part in the continual struggles of factions and parties. Of all these associations, the Freemasons were at once the most numerous, the most completely organized, and the most powerful in Europe. There is ample proof that they had a great share in bringing on the French Revolution. The notorious Philippe Egalite, the centre of three-fourths of the plots of the day, held the rank of “Grand Orient ” in the order, and most of the Jacobins and Cordeliers were members of its lodges.

In the south of Italy, during the French domination, a secret society was formed, in many respects resembling the Freemasons, but more daring and rapid in its action, more outspoken with regard to its objects, and for a time more famous in Europe. Its origin is shrouded in obscurity. It has been asserted, on the one hand, that it was originally a Royalist conspiracy, to a great extent guided by Queen Caroline, the consort of Ferdinand IV.; on the other hand, it has been said that it directly owed its origin to a Genoese adventurer, named Maghella, who became chief of the Neapolitan police during the reign of Murat.

The probability is that to a certain extent both these theories of the origin of the Carbonari are true. It is clear that until about the year 1812 the secret societies of the south of Italy were Royalist in their tendencies, and that after that they became antiBourbonist. It seems to us that it is not difficult to explain this seemingly unaccountable change, which threw the association into the hands of Maghella, who re-organized it, and might be regarded as its second founder.

During the struggle against the French invaders, more than one secret association was formed among the mountaineers of Calabria and the Abruzzi. Assembling in the woods, they took the name of the Carbonari, or charcoal-makers, and their meetings were called Vendite, or sales. ((*) These societies soon began to act in concert, and they formed themselves into one great organization, which opened a correspondence with the exiled court of Naples at Palermo. The leaders of the conspiracy were for the most part Liberal in politics. A Parliamentary government had been established in Sicily by the English and the exiled king; and the chiefs of the Carbonari placed before their followers the twofold object of the restoration of Ferdinand and the establishment of a Neapolitan parliament and constitution. As for the peasants and burghers who filled the ranks of the order, they knew little, and cared less, for these things. Their sole idea was to emulate the deeds of the Army of the Faith, by expelling the French, and restoring King Ferdinand. Thus the Carbonari had at the very outset a twofold character, the organization being partly Royalist, partly Liberal in its. tendencies.

It was not long before spies and informers were found among the Carbonari. The government of Murat became aware of their proceedings. The society was proscribed, and the severest penalties were threatened against its members. The Carbonari were most numerous in Calabria; General Manilas was placed in command of the province, and with the help of informers he arrested several of the leaders, who were tried and executed by martial law. Capobianco, a young man of fortune, was said to be at the head of the society. He was the captain of the militia of his town, which, like many of those in Calabria, was a natural fortress perched upon a precipitous height. To attempt to arrest him there would have been madness; General Manhes therefore had recourse to treachery. Feigning ignorance of his connection with the plot, he invited Capobianco to a banquet at Cosenza. After hesitating awhile, the Carbonaro accepted the invitation, hoping to foil any attempt to arrest him by leaving the room suddenly before the banquet was over. When he rose from his chair, he was surrounded by French gendarmes, and led off to prison. Next morning he was tried by a military commission, and beheaded in the market-place. The result of these vigorous measures was that most of the Royalist leaders, feeling they were at the mercy of the spies of Murat, fled to Palermo, while many of the Liberals made their peace with the government. The rank and file of the association were thus left without leaders, and the first epoch of Carbonarism was at an end.

It was now that Maghella appeared upon the scene, and re-organized the Carbonari, who were no longer to be the partisans of the exiled king and the enemies of Murat, but his secret allies, and after his downfall the opponents of the Bourbons. Yet this re-organization was not effected, until an abortive attempt at a Royalist insurrection in the province of Teramo, followed by a long series of military executions, had completely broken up the Royalist association of the Carbonari.

The new organization was at first far inferior in power to that which had preceded it. Its chiefs were in secret communication with Maghella, whose relations with them were at first unknown to Murat.

The leaders were the more advanced Liberals of the former society but, instead of the hardy and warlike mountaineers who had filled its ranks, the new Carbonari were chiefly recruited from the population of the towns and cities, the officers and non-commissioned officers of the army, and the students of the universities. The organization was extended into the Papal States, and even had some adherents in the north.

It was upon this association that Murat relied for aid, when in 1815 he declared war against Austria, and proclaimed himself the champion of Italian independence. We have already referred to the complete failure of his enterprise. In the Neapolitan provinces his army was largely recruited from the Carbonari. In the Papal States about a thousand young men joined him. This was all the aid he received from the order beyond the frontiers of his own dominions.

Under the restored governments the whole force of the opposition party in every state was brought to the aid of the Carbonari, and the association extended rapidly. In Genoa, the wide-spread discontent caused by the annexation to Piedmont found vent in numerous affiliations to the order, which soon possessed several vendite in the Genoese territory, from which it extended into Piedmont and Lombardy. Another of its strongholds was Ancona and the Romagna, the population of which has always been among the most turbulent in Italy. But it was in the south—the original source of the conspiracy— that it made the most rapid progress. According to Coletta, in the first five years—from 1815 to 1820— upwards of 640,000 members were enrolled in the Two Sicilies. This number may be, and probably is, exaggerated, but we cannot doubt that the Neapolitan vendite were by far the most numerous in Italy. They had succeeded in introducing their organization into the army, in which they had initiated large numbers of members amongst the old officers of Murat, and especially among the noncommissioned officers, who have always even a greater influence over their men than those of higher rank.

The organization of the Carbonari was now far more elaborate and perfect than that of the bands who had first met in the charcoal-burners’ huts in the forests of Calabria. The local vendite obeyed a central committee established in each state, under the name of the Alta Vendita. All communications between the vendite were carried on through this central body, and in each local society the members were divided into several grades, and were for the most part unknown to each other, and known only to the leaders of the vendita. Thus the central governing body held in its hands the clue of an intricate system, extending through every part of the country, and the details of which were known to it only. Communications between it and the local bodies were, as far as possible, delivered orally—for the Carbonari kept no records, and sought to avoid written correspondence, for fear of seizure or betrayal. The same object of obviating the dangers of treachery, or even imprudence, on the part of the members, was held in view in the organization of the various grades or degrees, which, like much of the other mechanism of the order, were borrowed from the Freemasons. The lowest grade of all was that of those who were simply initiated; they knew only those who' had introduced them; they had no power of initiating others; they were “to be silent and obey, to slowly deserve and receive confidence.” (*) After a time they were admitted to the second grade, which permitted them to take an active part in extending the society. Each member paid a monthly contribution into its treasury, and besides this was instructed to provide himself with arms.

When a man presented himself for admission into the order, it was only accorded to him on condition of his giving himself up body and soul to its leaders. Giovanni Ruffini was asked, “Did he know that, as soon as he had taken the oath, his arm, his faculties, his life, his whole being, would belong no longer to himself, but to the order? Was he ready to die a thousand times rather than reveal the secrets of the order? Was he ready blindly to obey and to abdicate his will before the will of his superiors in the order?” ((*)

Mazzini, too, has recorded the circumstances of his initiation into the Carbonari. (+) He was asked if he was “ready to act, and to obey the instructions which would be transmitted to him from time to time, and to sacrifice himself, if necessary, for the good of the order?” Then on his knees he took the Carbonaro oath upon a drawn dagger. In all this there was no definite object set before the adept, no limit fixed to his obedience. “In my own mind,” says Mazzini, “I reflected with surprise and distrust that the oath which had been administered to me was a mere formula of obedience, containing nothing as to the aim to be reached, and that my initiator had not said a single word about federalism or unity, republic or monarchy. It was war to the government, nothing more.”

Once, then, an Italian had taken the Carbonaro oath—and it was often taken, as in Mazzini’s case, in a burst of blind enthusiasm, which was followed, but not tempered, by anxious reflection^—he became the slave of a despotism incomparably more complete than any that had ever existed in Italy or in Europe. He belonged, body and soul, to a central vendita, of whose existence he was scarcely aware, whose members were unknown to him, while the end to which they were directing their efforts, and which he had vowed to serve by a blind obedience, was equally hidden from him, and only alluded to in the vaguest generalities.

Nor was this blind obedience an empty name. If he refused it, the symbolic dagger, on which he had sworn allegiance to the order, guided by an unknown hand, became the instrument of his punishment. Even flight to distant lands was at times insufficient to shelter the life of an insubordinate or treacherous Carbonaro from the avenging daggers of the agents of the Alta Vendita. There was not one state in Italy free from political assassinations, and the object of these crimes was not so much to punish the guilty as to establish a system of terror over the members of the lower grades of the order, so as to quell and eradicate all tendencies towards a mutinous spirit amongst them. Mazzini relates an incident of this kind, which occurred at Genoa.

“I was desired,” he says, “to be on the Ponte della Mercansia at midnight. There I found several. of the young men I had enrolled. They had been ordered there, like me, without knowing wherefore.

“After we had waited there a long time, Doria appeared, accompanied by two others, whom we did not know, and who remained wrapped up to the eyes in their cloaks, and as mute as spectres. Our hearts bounded within us at the thought and hope of action.

“Having arranged us in a circle, Doria began a discourse directed at me, about the culpability of certain words of blame of the order, uttered by inexpert and imprudent young men; and, pointing to the two cloaked individuals, he told us that they were about to start on the morrow for Bologna, in order to stab a Carbonaro there for having spoken against the chiefs: for that the order no sooner discovered rebels than it crushed them. ((*)

A similar incident is related by Ruffini. About twenty of the Carbonari were assembled at midnight in one of the smaller squares of Genoa, and there one of the leaders told them to pray for the soul of a comrade condemned to death by the Alta Vendita, and who would die by the dagger as the clock struck twelve.

Such was the terrible organization which arrogated to itself the task of regenerating Italy, while it really formed the great obstacle to all progress. In the face of such enemies the governments of Italy naturally refused to give that full freedom to the press which would make it a powerful weapon of the Carbonari. To oppose a secret conspiracy, they had recourse to spies and paid informers, and at times sought to neutralize the terror of the dagger, by threatening those who governed by it with the prison and the scaffold. We have no intention of defending all their acts; this much only we will say: If the Italian governments had recourse to such measures of detection and repression, they did nothing more than what has been done over and over again by every government in Europe, including the British Government, and which, if need be, every government in Europe would not hesitate to repeat to-morrow.

There are some subjects connected with the Carbonari of which we need say little. We are purposely silent with regard to the private lives of some of its members. There are some writers who have sought to still further darken the reputation of the order, by adopting the opposite course. We shall not do so, for we fail to see in what way such matters affect the character of the Carbonari, taking them as a body; and we freely admit that if there were wicked men among them, there were others whose lives were noble and upright, and whose connection with this fell conspiracy was an error rather than a fault. In its service they laid down their lives with a heroism worthy of a better cause; or, like Pellico, wasted their years in the solitude of a prison, happy if, like him, they learned the way to Heaven beneath the Cross, ((*) and came forth from their bondage wiser and better men.

Again, we have said nothing of the senseless and ridiculous rites adopted by the Carbonari from the Freemasons, and which were laughed at by many of their more enlightened followers; or, worse still, rites which were blasphemous and sacrilegious in their very nature, and which afforded a base satisfaction for the atheist and free-thinker, but could only excite disgust and horror in all right-minded men. We have said-enough for our purpose. We have sketched the organization and principles of action of the Carbonari, and we have based our statements on the narratives of men who were themselves the friends, and at one time the members, of the order. We must now turn our attention from its secret organization to its public action.

§ 2. The First Outbreak (1815—1821)

The eight years during which Pius VII. ruled the Pontifical States, after his restoration in 1815, were spent in repairing the injuries which they had suffered during the French occupation. Rome afforded a refuge to the family of his persecutor, and the Bonapartes received the most generous treatment at his hands. Under his care the city began rapidly to return to its former state of prosperity. In 1798 the population of Rome had been 165,000. During the French occupation it had fallen to 123,000. In 1820, five years after the return of the Pope, it had risen again to 135,000. The attention of the pontifical government was directed to the re-organization of the finances; a number of vexatious feudal imposts were discontinued, and the punishment of death for several offences abolished. A new police was formed, and the first efforts were made to disperse the banditti, who had appeared in the States during the exile of Pius VII.

In the kingdom of Sardinia and in the Two Sicilies, the restored governments entered upon the same course of prudent reform. In Piedmont, Victor Emmanuel I. created a commission of the leading statesmen and jurists of his kingdom, who were to examine the existing code of law with a view to its reform. In Naples, Ferdinand I. was engaged in establishing municipal councils in the towns and provincial assemblies in the rural districts, and these bodies had effected many useful reforms, and were collecting information from practical men with a view to others. In the Island of Sicily, besides organizing these local administrations, the king had provided, by a royal decree, that in future no addition to the taxes should be legalized without the consent of the States-General of the realm.

But all these proceedings were far too slow to satisfy the ideas of the revolutionary party. In the Two Sicilies they were continually urging the necessity of the establishment of a Neapolitan parliament, which, they said, would be a sovereign remedy for all the evils of the state, and this notwithstanding that parliamentary government had been a signal failure in Sicily, where the parliament of Palermo had expired of itself, almost immediately after the retirement of the English troops. Taking advantage of this state of feeling, the Carbonari loudly proclaimed themselves the friends of constitutional government, and they eagerly awaited an opportunity of effecting their purpose of overturning the existing order of things.

The signal for the first effort of the reorganized revolutionists of Italy, was the news of the Spanish Revolution of 1820, when Ferdinand VII. was forced to accept the constitution of 1812, which established a parliament elected by universal suffrage.

In Spain the Franc-Communeros had played a leading part in revolutionizing the country, and the Carbonari were now to make an attempt to emulate their exploits. In Spain, a military pronunciamiento had lent the aid of disciplined battalions to the cause of the revolution. In Italy, too, revolutionists were to be found in the ranks of the army, and, above all, the officers who had been initiated into the Carbonari were relied upon to sacrifice their allegiance to their sovereign to their fidelity to the order.

In the south, the rising began at Nola, on July 2nd. Two Carbonari—one of them a priest, the other a lieutenant of the Neapolitan army—gained over a troop of cavalry, and proclaimed the Spanish constitution. At Avellino they were joined by the militia of the town, and marched upon Salerno. General Carascosa, unable to rely upon his troops, many of whom he knew were Carbonari, retired before the insurgents, and they occupied the city, where they were shortly after joined by General Pepe, and a number of officers and soldiers who had followed him from Naples. Pepe had been a Republican or a Muratist all his life. At the age of seventeen he had entered the army of the Parthenopean Republic, and he had subsequently served in the French foreign legion, and in the army of Murat. On the restoration of the Bourbons he had entered heart and soul into the plots of the Carbonari, and his military reputation soon gained for him a high place in the order. He was received with enthusiasm at Salerno, and was immediately appointed commander-in-chief of the revolutionary army.

So far, all had gone well for the insurgents, but even greater successes were in store for them. Everywhere the troops declared for the constitution. At Naples, whole regiments abandoned the royal cause, and the students and the municipality loudly echoed their demand for the concession of the same constitution, based on universal suffrage, which had been granted to Spain. The king resigned his authority into the hands of his son, the Duke of Calabria, who promised, in his father’s name, to grant the constitution. A copy of it was procured from Spain, and the king swore allegiance to it. An Ultra-Liberal ministry was constituted, and Pepe became commander-in-chief of the Neapolitan army. Thus, all the good that had been effected since 1815 was destroyed in a moment, and a constitution originally drawn up for and adapted to a foreign country, was substituted for solid and lasting reform.

Meanwhile, the Carbonari of Sicily had not been idle. The news of the successful accomplishment of the Neapolitan Revolution reached Palermo on July the 14th. The following day was the Feast of Saint Rosalie, the patron saint of the island, and a holiday throughout all Sicily. Early in the day the Carbonari assembled their followers. Every one in the crowded streets of Palermo was forced to wear the Sicilian cockade. General Church, who commanded the place, was insulted, and his house sacked, and then the mob surrounded the forts, where the troops, who had been left without orders, surrendered after a feeble resistance. The revolutionists then armed themselves, and the whole city became one scene of riot and pillage.

Early next morning, General Naselli, the commander-in-chief of the troops in Sicily, concentrated the garrison of Palermo, and succeeded in re-occupying the forts without bloodshed. Incensed at this loss, the insurgents forced the prisons, liberated and armed 800 galley slaves, and attacked the 1700 troops whom Naselli had assembled on the Piazza del Castello. Assailed on all sides by the revolutionists, whose numbers now amounted to several thousands, the troops were soon thrown into confusion, and 1500 of them were massacred, several of the officers being beheaded, and their heads carried in triumph through the city. Naselli, with about 100 men, escaped to the harbour, and set sail for Naples. A Liberal Giunta was established at Palermo; the prisons were crowded with 6000 citizens, who were supposed to be hostile to the Revolution; a national guard was organized, and circulars were addressed to all the other towns of Sicily, inviting their co-operation towards securing the political independence of the island, to negotiate which envoys were sent to Naples by the Giunta.

But the massacre at Palermo had caused such horror throughout the country, that few of the other towns declared for the Giunta, and its embassy to Naples met with a decided refusal from the new Liberal government; for Pepe and his friends, having once tasted the sweets of power, began to rule with a stronger hand than King Ferdinand. To enforce the submission of the revolted Sicilians, General Floristan Pepe, the brother of the more celebrated commander-in-chief, was sent to Sicily with 4000 men. He landed at Milazzo, received the submission of all the disaffected towns, cleared the road to Palermo, and on September 26th forced his way into the suburbs, while the Neapolitan fleet entered the road-stead and threatened a bombardment. On this the revolutionists offered to capitulate, and during the negotiations Floristan Pepe, out of kindness to the inhabitants, withdrew his troops from the suburbs and encamped them outside the town. Thinking this a sign of weakness, the Giunta broke off the negotiations and re-opened fire. The fleet then commenced a bombardment, and on October the 5th the place surrendered. In the capitulation, an article was inserted referring the question of independence to the Sicilian parliament; but the central government refused to confirm it, and Floristan Pepe was superseded by General Coletta, the historian, who disarmed the populace, and completely re-established tranquillity in Palermo.

On the 1st of October the new parliament met at Naples. It represented only the revolutionary party, its members being revolted officers of the army, chiefs of local vendite, revolutionary professors from the universities, and a few renegade monks and priests. They were informed by the ministry that the great powers refused to recognize the revolutionary government, and the minister of war presented a project for the formation of a large army to provide for the defence of the kingdom and the newly-established regime.

The revolution was thus effected at Naples, and the same spirit soon showed itself in the Papal States and the kingdom of Sardinia. At Rome the police discovered the plot in time to prevent an outbreak; but at Civita Vecchia the galley slaves rose to the cry of “Eviva la Republica!” and the revolt was not suppressed without much bloodshed. With this exception the tranquillity of the States remained undisturbed, another testimony to the merits of the wise rule of Pius VII. In Piedmont and Genoa there were many signs of coming trouble, but the insurrection did not break out until the next spring.

The year 1821 opened with a revolution in Piedmont and an Austrian intervention at Naples. At the congresses of Troppau and Laybach, the allied sovereigns of Austria, Prussia, and Russia, asserting that the revolutionary regime at Naples was a permanent danger to the peace of the whole peninsula, decided upon placing an Austrian army at the command of King Ferdinand, for the purpose of re-establishing his authority. Opinions will differ as to the policy or wisdom of this intervention. There was at the time a great outcry against it in England, and, as her representative, Lord Castlereagh, that notorious champion of national right, presented a note to the congress of Laybach, which almost amounted to a formal protest. Yet it is certain that the government established at Naples represented the wishes of but a section of the people, and was the tool of the Carbonari, whose propaganda menaced every government in the peninsula. Rightly or wrongly, Austria and the allied sovereigns acted on precisely the same principles which had guided England and the other states of Europe in declaring war against the first French Republic.

When King Ferdinand crossed the frontiers of his kingdom with the Austrian army, the revolutionary leaders were quarrelling amongst themselves. A common danger re-united them. Pepe hurried forward to meet the invaders, but his army raised the cry of “We are betrayed!” and dispersed before the Austrian advanced guard at Antrodoco. The Austrians occupied Naples almost without firing a shot, and on May the 12th the king re-entered his capital amid the acclamations of the people, most of whom were thoroughly disgusted with their Liberal rulers. As usual in such cases, Pepe and the rest of the leaders escaped. Some of those who had played a minor part in the revolution were tried and executed. The act was as useless as it was impolitic, for it would have been better had the triumph of the king been a bloodless one. Nevertheless, strict law and justice were on the side of the government.

Almost on the same day that the Austrians entered the kingdom of Naples, the revolution began in the north. At the end of February the Austrian minister at Turin placed before the government convincing proofs that certain Piedmontese nobles were conspiring with the Carbonari to revolutionize Lombardy. The accused nobles were arrested, and their imprisonment caused great excitement and alarm. On March the 4th the Carbonari made a futile attempt to gain over some regiments at Verulli. On the 10th they were successful at Alessandria, where Colonel Regis and Count Parma proclaimed the Spanish Constitution, and at the head of the disaffected soldiery occupied the citadel, where they hoisted the green, red, and blue tricolor of the Italian Revolution. All the soldiers who did not belong to the party were allowed to go home. Nearly all the Savoyards, and many others, availed themselves of this permission, but their places in the ranks were soon filled by the Carbonari of the district.

On the 12th the news of these events reached Turin, and the Carbonari assembled and raised the cry of “Viva la Costituzione! Death to the Austrians!” Several regiments joined them, and the citadel surrendered, and was occupied by the revolutionists. The king, unable, on account of his engagements with Austria, to accede to the popular demand for the Spanish constitution, announced his intention of abdicating, and left the city for Nice, accompanied by the royal family. Charles Albert, Prince of Carignan, the future king of Sardinia, remained in Turin as regent, and proclaimed the Constitution. He was himself a Carbonaro, and had taken part in organizing the revolution.

It soon became evident that the authority of the regent was only nominal, and that the triumphant revolutionists were really under the command of the vendita of Alessandria, the centre of the revolt. Before many days the men who composed this body showed how unfit they were to assume the direction of affairs, and by one rash act destroyed the revolution which they had so easily accomplished. On March the 21st the leaders at Alessandria announced their intention of declaring war against Austria. On hearing this, the regent left Turin with some regiments of cavalry, and rode to Novara, where Charles Felix, the new king, was assembling an army. Arrived there, the Prince of Carignan declared his regency at an end, and fully submitted to the king. An Austrian corps of observation had been formed upon the Ticino, and the king invited them to co-operate with the royal army.

It was easy to see that the cause of the revolution was lost, but its leaders were blind to the events which were passing before their eyes. They published a proclamation asserting that the king was a prisoner of Austria, and that the regent had been deceived, and they called upon the people to rise and march against the Austrians, promising them the assistance of a rising in Lombardy and a French intervention. The only response to this proclamation was a revolution at Genoa, where the Carbonari succeeded in establishing a Giunta on the 24th.

On April the 8th the revolutionists attacked the royalists and the Austrians near Novara. After a short engagement the Carbonari were driven from the field, and the Austrian cavalry soon converted their retreat into a disorderly rout. The battle was the first and last of the campaign. While Charles Felix entered Turin at the head of the faithful regiments of the Sardinian army, the Austrians occupied the fortresses, to prevent a repetition of the treachery which had placed the citadels of Alessandria and Turin in the hands of the Carbonari. Everywhere the insurgents submitted; the leaders escaped, but some of their followers were brought to trial and sentenced to various terms of imprisonment.

The first effort of the Carbonari was at an end. Many of them flocked to Genoa, to escape by sea to Spain, where the revolution was still triumphant. They might be seen loitering in the streets waiting for a chance to embark. One Sunday they made a collection among the crowds who were out in the streets enjoying the cool air of the evening. In that crowd a lady was walking with her son, a boy of thirteen years. One of the insurgents, “a tall, black-bearded man, with a severe and energetic countenance and a fiery glance,” stepped up to them, and asked for something “for the refugees of Italy.” It was freely given, and he turned away; but that moment was an epoch in the life of the boy, who was no other than young Giuseppi Mazzini, the future apostle of the Revolution, who always dated the rise of his devotion to the cause of the revolutionary party in Italy from that evening, when he saw the defeated insurgents of 1821 begging in the streets of Genoa.

CHAPTER IV

THE FAILURES OF THE CARBONARI

§ 1. The Ten Years’ Truce (1821—1831)

The action of the Carbonari bad brought nothing but evil to Italy. It had destroyed the useful reforms of five years of peace and progress: it had thrown back Italy to the state in which she was in 1815, and it had considerably strengthened that Austrian influence which it had sought to destroy. It had brought civil war and foreign invasion into Piedmont and Naples, and introduced into Italy those military pronunciamientos which for sixty years have been the curse of Spain.

The leaders of the order were now dispersed. Some of them had found a refuge in Spain, others in France. In that country they began to organize vendite, which ere long included in their ranks the whole strength of the French Liberal party; while their leaders were united in the Haute Vente of Paris, amongst whose members were Guizot, La Fayette, and the Duke of Orleans. From France the lodges of Italy were re-organized, but Italy now held the second place in the plans of the Carbonari. They had learned the great lesson of international action. They were men who “had the persistent energy ever to persevere, and to weave a fresh web each time the old one was broken.” ((*) Defeated in Italy, their object was now to revolutionize France, which would then serve as a base of operations against the governments of other countries and their supporters.

Mazzini was initiated into the Carbonari at Genoa in 1828, and soon observed this inaction with regard to the affairs of Italy. In common with the circle of young men who had gathered round him in his native city, and already looked to him as their leader, he felt disappointed and discouraged at what he considered a diversion of Carbonarism from its legitimate object. “The leaders of the Carbonari,” says Mazzini, “always spoke of Italy as a nation disinherited of all power to act, as something less than a secondary appendix to others. They professed themselves cosmopolitans. Cosmopolitanism is a beautiful word, if it be understood to mean liberty for all men; but every lever requires a fulcrum, and while I had been accustomed to seek for that fulcrum in Italy itself, I found the Carbonari looked for it in Paris. The struggle between the French opposition and the monarchy of Charles X. was just then at its height, both in and out of the Chamber, and nothing was talked of among the Carbonari but Guizot, Berthe, Lafayette, and the Haute Vente of Paris. I could not but remember that we Italians had given the institution of Carbonarism to France.” ((*)

Thus it was that after the Revolution of 1821 there were ten years of comparative tranquillity in Italy; but it was only a truce, during which the secret societies were perfecting their plans and gathering strength for a new effort. The volcanic fires of Revolution were still burning as fiercely as ever beneath the surface.

The sovereigns of Italy were forced to struggle against this secret enemy, and while the Carbonari were rendering it impossible for them to make the smallest approach towards what is popularly known as constitutional government, the very absence of representative institutions, and the employment of, repressive measures, were used by the Liberal press and Liberal agitators of Europe as arguments to justify the Carbonari, and assail the Italian governments, forgetful of the fact that the first step taken by any constitutional government in the presence of a powerful conspiracy is to suspend the action of the constitution—this has been done again and again by England herself—according to the moderate Liberals the model of constitutional government.

During these ten years, few changes took place in Italy. In 1823 the venerable Pius VII. passed away, mourned by his people and by all throughout the world who could respect the virtues of his long and eventful life, and his indomitable fortitude in suffering for conscience sake. On September the 28th the Conclave elected Cardinal della Genga as his successor, and he assumed the name of Leo XII. At the time of his election he was sixty-four years old, and in such ill health that he himself, it is said, believed that he was dying. But no sooner had he received the tiara, than his health returned, and with it the vigorous energetic spirit which he had displayed in the diplomatic service of Pius VI. and Pius VII. He was soon able “to leave his palace, to visit hospitals, gaols, and monasteries, and almost multiplied himself, that he might suffice for all his duties.” ((*) He completely dispersed the brigands of the Campagna, reduced the taxation, and remodelled the courts of justice, making its administration simpler and more effective. His activity was felt in every department of the public service. “Truth requires me to relate,” says Farini, “that in the reign of Leo XII., and under Bernetti’s administration, some good and useful acts were done. There were abuses removed, and persons guilty of them punished; endeavours were made to set in order the hospitals and charitable institutions of Rome; streets, bridges, and other public works, were completed or commenced; general security was re-established in those districts that had been plundered by brigands; method was introduced into the expenditure, and the land tax was diminished by a third; a sinking fund was established on an adequate basis.”

These benefits, he acknowledges, were such as might have gained for a ruler the gratitude and love of his people; but he finds fault with the government of Leo XII. for the measures of repression which it directed against the Carbonari, especially in the Romagna. But what was the state of the Romagna? According to Farini himself, it was such as might well warrant even more severe measures than those of the Legate, Cardinal Rivarola. “The banishments and sentences of the preceding reign,” he says, “had failed to destroy Carbonarism; frequent political assassinations infested the Romagna, and secret combinations had more power than the government.” ((*) Unfortunately, the Pontifical Government was forced, in the struggle with the Carbonari, to execute a few of the leaders; but they were not only rebels but murderers, and by the law of both God and man had forfeited their lives.

As an instance of the circumstances under which the final penalty of the law was inflicted, let us take the case of two of the “martyrs of Italian liberty,” Targhini and Montanari. Angelo Targhini, a native of Brescia, was the chief of the Roman venta. On June the 4th, 1825, he lured a Carbonaro, named Postini, who had been condemned by the venta, into a lane near St. Andrea della Valle. Montanari was waiting there by previous appointment, and stabbed Targhini’s victim in the back, wounding him severely, and leaving him for dead. The wound was not mortal; he recovered. The two murderers were brought to trial, found guilty of the act, and publicly executed on November the 23rd, 1825, Targhini crying out to the spectators, “I die innocent—a Freemason, a Carbonaro, and impenitentThe Revolutionists of Europe spoke of the two men as the victims of priestly tyranny, though there was no doubt that Targhini and his bravo, Montanari, were nothing more than assassins, justly condemned to death. ((*)

Leo XII., though ready, in fulfilment of his duty as a sovereign, to enforce justice sternly against the violators of law and order, ruled by love, and not by fear. He knew that he could trust his subjects, and when timid counsellors suggested to him that be should not proclaim the jubilee of 1825, lest the Carbonari might take advantage of the concourse at Rome to concentrate in the city, and attempt a revolution, he would not listen to their advice. He gave orders that all should have free access to Rome. During the jubilee, he went about freely in the city, without guards, and attended only by a few members of the Sacred College. There were no disturbances; on the contrary, he was received everywhere with demonstrations of respect and love.

Leo XII. died on the 10th of February, 1829. He expired almost upon the eve of the re-opening of the war of the Revolution against the Church, which, commencing in 1830 by the establishment of the monarchy of July, steadily advanced year after year, until at length it invaded the capital of Christendom.

On March the 31st Cardinal Castiglioni was elected Pope, under the name of Pius VIII. His short pontificate was destined to witness the beginning of the first great outbreak of the re-organized revolutionists of Italy and Europe. Pius VIII. was hardly fitted by nature to brave such a storm. He possessed less of the active courage necessary for the ruler of a state in troubled times, than of that passive endurance and fortitude which he had displayed when, as Bishop of Montalto, he was successively imprisoned in Milan, Pavia, and Mantua, during the persecution of Napoleon I. His pontificate was a brief one. Elected on March the 31st, 1829, he died on the last day of November, 1830, after a reign of one year and eight months.

Only a few days before the death of Pius VIII., Francis I. of Naples died, after a prosperous reign of nearly six years. He was succeeded by his son, Ferdinand II., a young man in his twenty-first year. In his first proclamation to his subjects, he assured them that, knowing his power had only been given to him for their good, he would labour to promote their happiness in all things. “As no well regulated society can exist,” he said, “without an impartial administration of justice, this will be another object towards which our ardent solicitude will be directed. We' wish our tribunals to be so many sanctuaries, never to be profaned by intrigues, unjust pretentions, or any worldly considerations of human interest. In the eye of the law, all our subjects are equal, and we will take care that justice shall be administered impartially to all. Finally, the department of finances claims our particular attention, because it gives life and activity to the whole kingdom. We are aware that there are in that department deep wounds to be healed, and that our people expect some alleviation of their burdens. We are ready to make every sacrifice to attain that end. We hope that every one, as far as it lies in his power, will imitate our example, in order to restore to this kingdom that prosperity which ought to be the object of the desires of all good and virtuous men.” The accession of Ferdinand was hailed with joy throughout the kingdom; all looked forward with hope to his reign; and he nobly redeemed the promises of this, his first public utterance.

§ 2. The Revolt of Central Italy (1831)

When in July, 1830, the Carbonari and the people of Paris succeeded in overthrowing the government of Charles X., and placing Louis Philippe upon the throne of France, every country in Europe felt the shock. The leaders of the Carbonari had judged wisely, when they thought that they could find in Paris the best fulcrum for the lever which was to overturn the Conservative governments of Europe. In Italy, the news of the success achieved by the Revolution in France caused a ferment throughout the country. Narratives of the events at Paris were printed on tricoloured paper, and secretly circulated. In Modena and the Romagna there were abortive attempts at insurrection, but they were suppressed by the troops of those districts, freely aided by the people. In Lombardy and Piedmont the police succeeded in seizing most of the leaders, and thus for the moment disorganized the conspiracy. Amongst those arrested at Genoa was Passano, who was at the head of the Genoese venta, and Mazzini, now one of his most zealous followers.

Passano and Mazzini were imprisoned in the fortress of Savona, on the shore of the Riviera, once the prison of Pius VII. The governor, Fontana, treated Mazzini very kindly, often inviting him to his own room to dine with him, and permitting him to write to his mother at Genoa. The young conspirator took advantage of this favour to continue his plots against the government, by writing his communications so that the first letter of every alternate word would form a message in Latin to his political friends at Genoa, and they would answer in the same manner, by dictating to Madame Mazzini the opening sentences of her reply.

Tn these messages he suggested to the Genoese Carbonari a plan for immediate action; but, alarmed at the vigilance of the government, and the loss of so many of their leading men, they rejected all his proposals. His hot, zealous nature chafed at the delay. He began to regard Carbonarism as an empty form, having no vital force. One day the cells were being cleaned, all the prisoners were in the corridor, and he whispered to Passano, “I have means of correspondence; give me some names.” Whereupon his former leader, instead of naming some useful correspondents in Genoa, tapped him on the head, and declared that he had conferred upon him the highest rank in the order! Thinking over this ridiculous scene, and others like it, and impatient of the inaction of the Carbonari, he resolved to found a new association, independent of the order; and during the rest of his imprisonment at Savona, he passed his 10 time in determining what means he should adopt, and what assistants he would select to this end, and in developing in his mind the plan of the secret association, afterwards known as La Giovine Italia— Young Italy.

Early in 1831 he was liberated for want of sufficient evidence, but he was given the alternative of going into exile or residing in some small town of the interior. To avoid the surveillance of the police he chose the former course, and, passing through Savoy, arrived at Geneva. There he met some of the Carbonaro refugees, and was told by one of them that if he wished for action he should go to Lyons, and make himself known to the Italians who frequented the Caffe del Fenice in that city. Acting on this advice he reached Lyons in March, 1831.

Meanwhile an insurrection had begun in Central Italy. An interregnum of two months followed the death of Pius VIII., and while the Conclave was sitting the Roman venta organized a conspiracy to overthrow the pontifical government. Amongst the conspirators were two young princes of the Bonaparte family, one of whom was to exercise in later years a fatal influence upon the destinies of Italy, and who now began as a Carbonaro the war against the Temporal Power, which we shall see him prosecuting still more effectually as Emperor of France.

Under the influence of his elder brother Napoleon, young Louis Napoleon (then twenty-three years of age) had been initiated into the sect of the Carbonari, and the two brothers, with their mother, Queen Hortense, ((*) were now in Rome awaiting the signal for action. As a body, the Romans were loyal to the pontifical government, and the fellow-conspirators of the two princes were men of a very doubtful character. “There were,” says Farini, “some official men and students, and some soldiers from the provinces, but few Romans, and those few not of such a quality as to have either following or character among the people of the city.” (†)

Louis Napoleon was imprudent enough to ride in the Corso with tri-coloured ribbons on his saddle; and the two brothers, happily for themselves, as the event proved, were ordered to leave the pontifical territory. They therefore crossed the frontier, and retired to Florence. Their co-conspirators in Rome continued the plot, resolved to make up by audacity for want of numbers. Nevertheless the interregnum ended without a disturbance, and on February the 2nd the Conclave elected the Benedictine Cardinal Capellari, who took the name of Gregory XVI. ((+)

Gregory XVI. was not, as Farini asserts, new to state affairs. He had shared the counsels of the preceding pontifis; and though his reputation in Rome rested chiefly upon his learning and his virtues he was well acquainted with the internal condition and external relations of the states, and possessed a brave and energetic spirit, which well fitted him to grasp the helm in the present crisis.

The day after the accession of Gregory, the rising in Central Italy began. Never had the Carbonari attempted an insurrection with better hopes of success. The governments of Central Italy possessed only small armies, and the leaders of the Carbonari at Paris assured their friends in Italy that the government of Louis Philippe would not permit an Austrian intervention. The first attempt at insurrection took place at Modena on February the 3rd. The head of the Modenese vent a was the famous Ciro Menotti. There have been many disputes as to his relations with the Grand Duke Francis TV. According to one account the Duke was at first perfectly cognisant of Menotti’s plots, and had aided and encouraged him, in the hope of eventually becoming King of Italy. According to the other version of these events, urged by his friends, he was not aware of Menotti’s connection with the Carbonari, and his relations with him were only those of a sincere and unsuspecting friendship. If the first version is true, the Duke would be worthy of the execration of any honourable man; if the second, as deep a stigma would rest upon Menotti’s name. But it will never be known which is the true and which the false account. To use Farini’s words, “the secret is buried in two graves.”

Early on the morning of the third, Menotti assembled about thirty young men at his house and armed them. The police were almost immediately informed of the fact, the house was surrounded by troops, and the conspirators were captured after making a vigorous defence. The news of these events reached Bologna next morning, and the rising began in the Romagna. In the evening of that day the Liberals of Bologna got up a demonstration against the government. The garrison of the city numbered only seven hundred men. To avoid useless bloodshed, the Pro-Legate, Mgr. Clarelli, ordered them to remain inactive. He was forced to abdicate and retire to Florence, and then the revolutionists tore down the Papal arms, and hoisted the Italian tricolour.

The revolution spread rapidly through the Romagna, and extended into the neighbouring districts.

Alarmed at the success of the Carbonari, the Duke of Modena and the Duchess of Parma left their capitals for Mantua at the first sign of insurrection in their own states, the Duke taking his prisoner, Menotti, with him. Provisional governments were at once established in the Duchies, while in the Papal States the revolution spread into Umbria and the Marches. Unfortunately, very little courage or determination was exhibited by the authorities. Colonel Sutliermann, the commandant of Ancona, surrendered its citadel to the rabble headed by General Sercognani, commander-in-chief of the provisional government of Bologna; while immediately after Mgr. Feretti showed what one resolute man could accomplish, by encouraging the people of Rieti to repel this same Sercognani in an attack on their town. Louis Napoleon and his elder brother, whose parts had been assigned to them by Menotti just before his arrest, joined the forces of Armandi in Umbria, and took part in the attack on Civita Casteliana.

At Rome the government was informed that the local venta had arranged a rising for the 12th, during the festivities of the Carnival. The sports of the day were suddenly suspended; the troops occupied the more important points in the city. In the evening there was a slight skirmish in the Piazza Colonna; but the bubble had burst, and, except being the cause of a few arrests and a great amount of alarm, the Roman venta had succeeded in effecting nothing. The reason of their failure was a simple one; their supporters were a mere handful.

“Whatever may have been the feelings of the provinces,” says Cardinal Wiseman, who was in Rome at the time, “certainly Rome gave no proof of sympathy with revolution, but rather manifested enthusiastic devotion to her new sovereign. Upon the Civic Guard being enlarged to enable the regular troops to move northward, multitudes presented themselves for enrolment, and among these, persons of the highest class eager to take on themselves the defence of the Pope’s sacred person. Prince Altieri received the command of this body. The loyalty of the poorer classes became almost alarming. They surrounded the royal carriage in such masses that it was scarcely possible to move through them; and they expressed their attachment and readiness to fight with a clamour and warmth that would have rendered any attempt to remove them a dangerous experiment.” ((*)

In the south such was the enthusiasm of the people for the king that the Carbonari saw at once that there was no hope of revolutionizing Naples, and did not attempt it The first act of Ferdinand was a general amnesty; the exiles of 1821 returned, amongst them General Filangieri, one of Pepe’s lieutenants, who henceforth proved himself the devoted servant of his king. In order to introduce economy into the finances, Ferdinand greatly reduced his own civil list, abolished several useless offices, and broke up some of the royal game preserves. He simplified the procedure in the courts of law, superseded the unpopular viceroy of Sicily, appointing his own brother to the office, and when he travelled through his kingdom forbade the municipalities to make any expensive preparations for his reception, but accepted the hospitality of some local resident, or stayed at the village inn, or in a Franciscan convent. No wonder that he was a popular sovereign!

So far the revolutionists had been successful in Central Italy. Modena, Parma, the Romagna, and part of Umbria and the Marches had joined the republican federation, and yielded an obedience, at least in name, to the Giunta constituted at Bologna; ((*) but from the middle of February their power began to decline as rapidly as it had risen. Their policy was so ill-advised that they weakened their position and divided their forces, and the aid which was expected from France never appeared. The government of Louis Philippe had indeed made certain vague statements, but no definite promises. Its only object was to alarm the Great Powers, and to extort a recognition from them by seeming disposed to throw itself into the arms of the Revolution if it was refused. It gave a certain countenance to the Italian refugees in France, but at the same time it took care not to involve the country in war.

When Mazzini arrived at Lyons, in February 1831, he found the Italian refugees openly preparing for an invasion of Savoy, for the purpose of revolutionizing Piedmont. The place where their arms were stored was known to half the city, the Italian tricolor hung over the door of their head-quarters at the Caffe del Fenice, and they boasted that they had the countenance of the government. But just before the day of action, the Prefect of Lyons, under orders from Paris, seized the arms, closed the caffe, and hauled down the tricolor; and thus the expedition to Savoy had to be postponed to another time. ((*) One of the leaders, named Borso, now informed Mazzini that he and a few other republicans intended starting that night for Corsica, in the hope of being able to organize a band of the armed islanders, and land in Central Italy to aid the insurrection there. Mazzini consented. Borso and he, with four or five others, left Lyons for Marseilles the same evening, and embarked for Corsica, where they landed at Bastia after a stormy passage.

Arrived in Corsica, they found several powerful venta in the central districts. The mountaineers were already armed and organized by local leaders, and before long Borso and Mazzini had upwards of 2000 men ready to cross to Italy. But money was wanting for vessels, and to leave a small sum for the families of the volunteers. It had been promised by the leaders of the Carbonari, but it never appeared. Borso sent two of his followers, Zuppo and Vantini, ((*) to Bologna to ask the Giunta for the necessary supplies; “but,” says Mazzini, evidently indignant at the disappointment, “that incapable government, shrinking from the idea of war, and trusting only to diplomacy, answered like foreign barbarians, that those who wanted liberty must buy it for themselves.” Thus the Corsican expedition had to be abandoned like that of Savoy, and Mazzini and his friends returned to Marseilles.

The epithet of “incapable” which Mazzini applies to the government of Bologna was well deserved. The leaders of the revolution of 1831 were not even agreed amongst themselves as to their object. One party was for spreading the flame throughout all Italy and attacking Austria; the other fondly hoped that by forbidding all propaganda, striving to confine the revolution to the revolted provinces, and writing long verbose dispatches, they could hold the ground they had so easily won. One would think that a moment’s consideration would have shown them that the Pope could not make peace with successful conspirators; that, even if he would, Austria would not suffer the existence of a Carbonaro government upon her own frontiers; and that the French alliance was an empty name. Nevertheless this party was the stronger in the Giunta. They deluded themselves into the belief that their provisional government would be speedily recognized by the Great Powers; and, instead of preparing for war, they actually put every obstacle in the way of their best soldiers, Zucchi and Sercognani, who saw what was coming and were anxious to prepare for it.

On February 25th, 800 Austrians from Piacenza surprised and dispersed the republican levies of Parma. In the following week, Zucchi and the Modenese revolutionists were defeated and driven into the Romagna. On March the 21st, the Austrians occupied Bologna, and the archbishop, Cardinal Opizzoni, resumed the government in the name of Gregory XVI. On the 24th, Zucchi concentrated the _remains of the revolutionary army at Rimini. Next day he was attacked there by 5000 Austrians, under General Geppert, defeated, and driven back towards Ancona. The Giunta, now seeing all hope of resistance at an end, entered into negotiations with the Austrian commander and Cardinal Benvenuti, and signed a capitulation, ((*) by which Ancona was surrendered, and the Republican troops laid down their arms. Zucchi’s column surrendered to Geppert, and Sercognani, who commanded 4000 men in Umbria, surrendered to Mgr. Mastai, the Archbishop of Spoleto, who was acting as governor of. the province.

Thus ended the ill-fated insurrection of 1831. It had been excited by men who, when for a time they succeeded, were equally unable to secure what they had won or even to make an honourable defence. The members of the Giunta and all their leading followers left Italy, quarrelling among themselves as to their share in the catastrophe. Some went to Switzerland, some to the south of France. Young Louis Napoleon was carried off in safety to England by Queen Hortense; his elder brother had died at Forli during the campaign.

Short and unsuccessful as it was, the insurrection had inflicted serious injury upon the Pontifical Government. The finances were thrown into disorder by the cessation of revenue from the revolted provinces, and the pressure suddenly brought to bear upon the treasury; and for the first time the government was forced to contract a loan. Gregory XVI. used his victory with moderation. AU of the insurgents were pardoned, except thirty-eight of the principal conspirators, most of whom escaped into exile.

§ 3. The Events of 1832.

The Austrians, having restored order, evacuated the Legations at the request of the Pope, who was anxious to avoid, if possible, the evils of a foreign occupation. No sooner had they withdrawn, than the Liberals made a second and still more ridiculous attempt at revolution, which led to the insurrectionary movements of the spring of 1832. They were speedily suppressed by the Pontifical troops and the Austrians, who recrossed the frontier*and occupied Bologna, where they were enthusiastically received by the people. ((*) Indeed, so much had the disorders of 1831 and 1832 tended to disgust the Romagnols with the Liberal party, that a local volunteer militia was formed in the district, for the defence of the Papal Government.

Meanwhile, the Liberal government of Louis Philippe adopted a policy towards the Holy See, which seemed to indicate a desire to assist the revolution in another attempt. On February 22nd, a French squadron anchored off the harbour of Ancona. The town was perfectly tranquil at the time, and was garrisoned by the Pontifical troops. The commandant, suspecting nothing, sentan officer on board the French flag-ship, offering the admiral the hospitality of Ancona, and informing him that the pontifical authorities would assist in procuring any supplies he might require for the fleet. The admiral sent back a friendly message of thanks, and next morning the squadron entered the harbour, exchanging the usual salutes with the forts. In the darkness of the ensuing night, 1500 French troops were secretly landed from the fleet. They surprised and disarmed the Papal troops, seized the gates, surrounded the residence of the commandant, and made him a prisoner. Next day they occupied the citadel.

The Pontifical Government loudly protested against this act of piratical treachery, and demanded from the French Government that their troops should be withdrawn from Ancona. This was refused, the Cabinet of Paris alleging that it had sent the troops to assist in upholding the Pontifical authority, and that they had the right of intervention as well as Austria. For the sake of peace, the Pontifical Government was forced to submit to this invasion of its rights, and entered into a convention with France, by which it was agreed that the French occupation of Ancona should continue as long as the Austrian occupation of Bologna.

Even while the negotiation of the convention was in progress, a revolutionary propaganda was begun at Ancona, under the protection of the French. The Carbonari of the Romagna and the Marches could not be persuaded that the French had not come as allies, and they looked upon the tricolour flying on the citadel of Ancona as a pledge of the assistance they would receive if they could only make head against the government. At Ancona, revolutionary proclamations were posted on the walls; many of the leaders in the movements of the preceding year, who had been excluded from the amnesty, were to be seen walking in the streets with the French officers; at the opera, revolutionary ballads were introduced into the performances, and applauded by the French and the Carbonari, and the latter were encouraged to attack the pontifical police. Yet the mass of the people were so loyal to the Pope, that all these efforts to promote an outbreak at Ancona ended only in disappointment to their authors. Nevertheless, the result of these proceedings was a general state of excitement and disturbance throughout Romagna and the Marches, which caused much anxiety to the government. Numerous arrests were made, but the prisons themselves became seats of Carbonarism, for their inmates were not separated from each other, and the older conspirators had ample time and opportunity to instil their doctrines into the minds of the rest. It would, however, be unfair to charge the government of Gregory XVI. with undue severity. Had he chosen to be a tyrant, he might far more easily have crushed the plots of those who were conspiring against him; but during his long reign there was not a single execution for purely political offences. Rebels and conspirators were indeed sentenced to death and executed, but only where it was proved that they had been guilty of assassination as well as treason.

The outbreak of 1832 was the last attempt which can be attributed solely to the Carbonari. The influence of the once all-powerful order had been considerably diminished by repeated defeats. Its successes in France were forgotten, obliterated by its failures in Italy. Henceforth, newer and more active organizations shared with it the work of revolution, and it fell into the second rank.

CHAPTER V

MAZZINI AND THE ITALIAN MOVEMENT

§ 1. The Giovine Italia

When Mazzini returned to Marseilles after his expedition to Corsica, in 1831, he began to organize the association which he had planned in his prison at Savona. There were ample materials for his work. The defeated revolutionists of Central Italy were crowding to Marseilles. He made himself known to many of them, and was soon able to open correspondence with several towns and districts in Italy.

In April, 1831, the elder branch of the House of Savoy became extinct by the death of Charles Felix, and he was succeeded by the head of the younger branch of Savoy-Carignano, Charles Albert. The new king was deeply religious, brave, and active minded, and devoted to the welfare of his people; but he had wisely abandoned the party of the Carbonari, and he wished to promote the good of his subjects by a prudent and statesman-like policy, and not by attempting to reduce to practice the wild theories of the French philosophes and their Italian imitators. But the Italian Liberals only thought of him as the Carbonaro of 1821. In the excitement of the moment they seemed to forget how he had deserted the Revolution when it declared war against Austria, and they hoped to see him placing himself at once at the head of the Italian movement.

From Marseilles, Mazzini addressed a letter to the new king, through the medium of the press. The letter opened by referring to the hopes of the Liberals on his accession, reminding him of the struggle in progress throughout Europe between the Revolution and Conservatism, and telling him that he had to choose between yielding to the agitation in his own states, and attempting to suppress it. He was warned of the dangers he would incur, by adopting the latter course. “Blood calls for blood,” wrote Mazzini/ “and the dagger of a conspirator is never so terrible as when it is sharpened on the tombstone of a martyr.” On the other hand, a few concessions would not quiet the people (or, rather, the Liberals of Piedmont). What was demanded was, that the king should put himself at the head of the Italian Revolution, and, if he would do this, the Republican leader promised him the throne of Italy. “There is,” he wrote, “a crown brighter and nobler than that of Piedmont—a crown that only awaits a man bold enough to conceive the idea of wearing it, resolute and determined enough to consecrate himself wholly to the realization of that idea, and virtuous enough not to dim its splendour with ignoble tyranny.”

As might have been anticipated, this letter met with no response from the king. In his memoirs, Mazzini asserts that he never expected anything else, and merely wrote it for the purpose of proving to the Revolutionary party that it was useless to hope for a kingly leader, or to put their trust in princes. It is quite possible that he wrote it to attract notoriety in Italy, but whether this was his purpose or not, such was the result of the letter. His name had hitherto been known only to the small circle of his friends at Genoa, or among the exiles in France; it now became a household word with the Revolutionary party in Italy, and it was to the reputation thus acquired that he was largely indebted for his success in forming the association, which was, he hoped, to supplant the Carbonari, and accomplish the work they had failed to effect.

To this new association he gave the name of La Giovine Italia, or Young Italy. It was to include all the Liberal youth of the Peninsula, and no one was to be admitted who had passed the age of forty years. In its organization and its objects, it was essentially different from the Carbonari. The organization was as simple as possible. There were only two classes of members, the first consisting of those who were merely initiated, the second of those who had sufficient intelligence and prudence to justify their being authorized to select and affiliate new members. In the chief towns of the more important districts there were committees charged with the work of perfecting and extending the organization. In smaller places there were simply directors appointed to superintend the action of the initiators. At Marseilles, Mazzini and his friends formed the central committee, which governed the association. But this committee was entirely under his influence, so that practically he himself had the personal command of the whole. By thus placing the directorate abroad, he secured it from the attacks of the Italian Governments, and was able to conspire against them in perfect safety.

Unlike the Carbonari, the Giovine Italia had a definite and determined object, which was clearly set before all its members. According to the constitutions of the association, all who joined it did so “in the firm intent of consecrating both thought and action to the great aim of reconstituting Italy as one, independent, sovereign nation of free men and equals.” The banner of the society was the red, white, and green tricolor, since adopted by the Piedmontese kingdom of Italy. It bore on one side the words Liberty, Equality, Humanity; on the other, Unity and Independence.

Thus the Giovine Italia had for its object the establishment of a Unitarian Italian Republic; and to Mazzini belongs the doubtful honour of having initiated the revolutionary agitation for Italian unity. Not that it was in itself a new idea. The necessity of political unity had been urged upon the Italians for many a year, and some of the greatest of the Popes themselves had been its most strenuous supporters. Amongst others, Pius VI. had endeavoured to organize a league of the Italian states, which, while leaving independence to each, would give a federal unity to all. But the Mazzinian programme was the establishment of a single republic, which would have placed all Italy—divided as it ever was and ever will be in feeling and sentiment, in political views and material wants—under one central government.

To attain this end, the means to be adopted were “thought and action:” the latter meant insurrection, the former the literary propaganda of Mazzinianism. The Carbonari were content to be a purely political association: in this Mazzini believed that they had erred. He saw in Catholicity the ally of peace, order, and conservativism, and he was, therefore, anxious to loosen its hold upon the minds of his followers. His own religion so far as we can gather from his writings, was a kind of philanthropic theism, and this he wished to be the creed of the Giovine Italia, which was in some degree a religious sect as well as a political conspiracy; and this pseudoreligion runs through all his utterances and those of his followers. He preached the religion of humanity, God and the people. It is quite possible that he never knew precisely what he meant, and a careful consideration of much that he has written tends to show that his belief in the people and humanity was far stronger and more active than his belief in God: that to a great extent he was practically a worshipper of humanity, who limited his belief in God to a simple acknowledgment of His existence. A careful study of Mazzini’s writings has convinced us that this is the true character of Mazzinianism.

These ideas he considered it necessary to propagate, as an essential prelude and preparation for action. “The great error of the past,” he wrote to the propagandists of Young Italy, “has been that of entrusting the fate of the country to individuals rather than to principles. Combat this error, and preach faith not in names but in the people, in our rights, in God. Teach your followers that they must choose their leaders among men who seek their inspiration from revolution, not from the previous order of things. Lay bare all the errors committed in 1831, and do not conceal the faults of the leaders. Repeat incessantly that the salvation of Italy lies in her people. The lever of the people is action, continuous action: action ever renewed without allowing oneself to be overcome or disheartened by first defeats.” (*)

As a means of extending his association and its principles, he published at Marseilles a manifesto to the Italian people, and a monthly periodical. In his manifesto he urged the necessity of an Italian revolution, asserting that former revolutions failed through mismanagement, and that the youth of Italy should now follow younger leaders, who would guide them to success. “Late events,” he said, “have been a better lesson to the rising generation than whole volumes of theories, and we affirm that the events of 1831 have consummated and concluded the separa tion of Young Italy from the men of the past.”

The first number of his periodical, La Giovine Italia, followed. It was a small octavo pamphlet of 132 pages. Its contents will give an idea of the whole. The first article, explaining the objects of the association, was signed by Mazzini; then came others on the French society of the Amis du Peuple, on Raspail, on the events of 1831, on the Romagna (by Mazzini), and a concluding address to the Italians. The contents of the other numbers was very similar —one long exhortation to the Italians to declare war against their governments and against the Austrians. The following passages from the journal will best represent its style:—

“The masses,” writes Mazzini, “understand the word liberty better than they do that of independence. Moreover, while the Austrian uniform is abhorred by the Lombard, because the substance, gold and men. of Lombardy are drawn to swell the granaries, treasury and armies of Austria; the Genoese, Piedmontese, Tuscan or Neapolitan feels no Austrian yoke upon his neck… The Barbarian for the mass of the people is he who imposes a tax upon the light that shines above him, and upon the air he breathes; the barbarian is the custom-house officer, who impedes his freedom of commerce and traffic; the barbarian is he who insolently violates his individual liberty; the barbarian is the spy who watches over him even in the hours when he seeks forgetfulness from the misery which surrounds him… Tell the people, then, of our great memories, tell them of 1746 and Massaniello. Tell them of the battles of Paris, Brussels, and Warsaw: of their barricades, pikes, and scythes. Say to them,—It rests with you to emulate those deeds and arise in giant strength; God will be with you, God is with the oppressed. And when you see a gleam of light illumine the brow, and hear the beating of the great heart of the people, throbbing like the pulse of the sea, then rush to the van: point to the plains of Lombardy, and say,—‘ There stand the men who perpetuate your slavery.’ Show them the Alps, and cry, These are our true frontier!— War to Austria!’ ”—And in order that they might know how the war was to be conducted, Mazzini wrote and published in his periodical a complete treatise on guerilla warfare, which showed how carefully he had studied the subject of an Italian insurrection in all its bearings.

It was impossible that the Italian governments should permit the free circulation of writings of this kind, or hesitate to declare a war to the knife against the society from which they emanated. Nevertheless the association made rapid progress. It had all the charm of novelty and mystery, and the young men welcomed the writings of a chief, who told them that the destiny of their country was in their hands, and promised to make them its leaders. In Genoa the brothers Ruffini, Jacopo and Giovanni, Mazzini’s first friends, took charge of the movement. Committees were formed in the North, in Tuscany, in the Papal States; and, despite the vigilance of the police,the journal, La Giovine Italia, was smuggled into the ports of Genoa, Leghorn, and Civita Vecchia, packed in barrels of pumice-stone or pitch. Travellers passed from province to province, and reported the progress of the movement to Mazzini at Marseilles. Begun at the close of 1831 or the beginning of 1832 it was in 1833 as powerful as the old Carbonari.

The Italian governments became alarmed, and— thanks to strong diplomatic protests with regard to Mazzini’s being allowed to establish openly at Marseilles the centre of a great conspiracy against a friendly power—the French government published a decree banishing him from France. He resolved not to leave Marseilles, and still lived there in secret^ probably with the connivance of the police, who could scarcely have been ignorant of his continued residence in the city.

He had always protested against its being supposed that he would permit the dagger to be a weapon of Young Italy, as it had been in the hands of the Carbonari. In October, 1832, a certain Emiliani was attacked by some Italian refugees in the streets of Rodez, and slightly wounded. The men were arrested and imprisoned by the police; but shortly after, on May 31st, 1833, Emiliani and a companion of his, named Lazzareschi, were murdered in a caf6 by Gaviuli, a young exile of 1831. Evidently the crime was a political one, for it transpired that both the murdered men were spies belonging tn the police of Modena. The French press charged the Giovine Italia with the crime, but Mazzini indignantly denied it, and additional force was given tn his denial by the publication in the Moniteur of a decree, purporting to be signed by Mazzini, condemning Emiliani and Lazzareschi to death, but which, it was evident, was nothing more than a clumsy piece of forgery, for the dates did not correspond with the known facts of the case, the form of the sentence was absurd, and the Italian in which it was written was full of grammatical errors. The assassination was probably the work of the Carbonari: nevertheless, in the excitement of the moment, all the odium of it fell upon Mazzini, and his association.

In his “Memoirs,” Mazzini gives a summary of the strength of the Giovine Italia in the summer of 1833, and the names of its leaders. It was most powerful in Lombardy, the Genoese Territory, and the States of the Church. The Tuscan centre of the association was at Leghorn, where it was directed by Guerrazzi, Bini, and Enrico Mayer. Pietro Bastogi (afterwards an Italian minister) was treasurer. Mayer travelled to Rome to keep up the correspondence with the society in the Pontifical Territory, and in union with Leghorn there were branches at Pisa, Siena, Lucca, and Florence.

In Genoa, the Ruffinis had established a strong organization, but in Piedmont the work went on more slowly. Amongst the members were Sciandra, Vochieri, Parola, and Depretis (since become a “Moderate,” like many others). Some hesitated to join the society, but informed its propagandists that they would enter its ranks if it could prove its strength by a first success. Numerous members had been enrolled among the subalterns and non-commissioned officers of the Piedmontese army, especially among the artillery in charge of the citadels of Alessandria and Genoa; indeed, both these cities were now as zealously devoted to the Giovine Italia as they had been to the Carbonari twelve years before, at the time of the Revolution of 1821.

In Naples, Carlo Poerio, Bellini, and Leopardi, had an independent organization of their own; but they corresponded with Mazzini, and informed him that they were ready to adopt his programme, and act as his allies. There was a committee of the Giovine Italia established in Rome, possessing, it seems, but few members. Another committee was in Umbria, presided over by Guardabassi; but it was in the Romagna that the society was strongest in the Papal territory. There the veteran conspirators and the young, untried Revolutionists of the district alike joined eagerly in the work. Many who have since merged into the Moderate party, were then hot and zealous Republicans. Farini speaks in very contemptuous terms of the Giovine Italia, and secret conspiracies in general, but, if we are to believe the chief of the society, the future historian was himself one of the most active members in 1833.

“There are,” says Mazzini, “working men yet living in Bologna, who well remember Farini loudly preaching massacre in their meetings, and his habit of turning up his coat sleeves to the elbow, saying, ‘”My lads! we must bathe our arms in blood!” (*)

Now that his association was so widely extended, in Italy, Mazzini felt the importance of speedy action. He could not hope that it would last long without traitors being found to betray its organization to the Italian governments, and even if this were not the case, the zeal of the first associates might be expected to cool down, and perhaps dissension and disunion would creep into their ranks, as into those of the Carbonari. He considered the Giovine Italia strong enough for an attempt at revolution. Even if it failed in the effort, he hoped it would win its first laurels in the struggle, and strengthen his own influence in France and Italy; while, if it continued inactive, there was every reason to fear that its present strength and efficiency would rapidly decrease. He therefore resolved upon immediate action.

§ 2. The Invasion of Savoy (1833—1834)

Mazzini had probably decided many months before upon the plan of action which he now adopted. He could not depend upon Poerio’s followers in the south taking the field or acting as he would wish, and carrying the war into the Pontifical Territory in the event of a first success. It would have been easy to excite a rising in the Romagna, but it was too isolated a field of action, and too much exposed to an Austrian attack. The north alone seemed available, and he decided that there the Revolution should begin, and that if his plans were successful, the Giovine Italia in the centre, and Poerio’s organization in the south, should act as the reserve of the movement. He flattered himself that, through his relations with the troops at Alessandria and Genoa, the citadels of these places would easily fall into the hands of his friends. The Revolutionists would then have two important strategic points in their hands. One would secure the Riviera, and communicate with France and Italy by sea, and the other could be used as a base of operations against the Austrians in Lombardy.

He revived the idea of an invasion of Savoy, which had been prevented by Louis Philippe in 1831. This was to be the work of the exiles in the south of France. He hoped Savoy would declare in his favour; he would then get possession of Turin, the branches of the Giovine Italia in Lombardy would rise at the news, and, Piedmont being secured, the revolutionary army would cross the Ticino to invade the Austrian possessions, and then it was hoped the insurrection would spread through the south and centre. Such was the plan adopted for the proposed Revolution of 1833, a plan which had many more chances of success than might be supposed at first sight. The essential portion of it was the occupation of Genoa and Alessandria, and, next to this, the invasion of Savoy; for these were the movements which were to secure for the revolution its base of operations in Piedmont.

Having communicated his general design to his friends in Genoa, Alessandria, Turin, and Vercelli, he prepared to leave Marseilles and go to Geneva, in order to make the final arrangements and organize the invasion of Savoy. But before leaving he wished to come to an understanding with the French republicans. He had interviews with Cavaignac and Armand Carrel; and it was agreed that if the movement in Italy succeeded, the party in France should attempt a revolution at Paris and Lyons. Meanwhile a trifling incident which occurred at Genoa for the moment placed the Genoese and Piedmontese conspirators at the mercy of the government, and deranged the plot.

Two artillerymen at Genoa quarrelled. From words they came to blows, and they both were arrested by the carbineers. In the presence of the latter, one of them said he could tell something which would damage the other. The fact was, the other man was a member of the Giovine Italia, and had made an attempt to persuade him to join. These words furnished the government with a clue to the conspiracy. Mazzini, seeing the danger of his friends, wrote to them immediately, “Act at once, if possible; if not you are lost.” Nevertheless they hesifated. When a search was made, copies of the Giovine Italia were found in the knapsacks of some of the soldiers; the owners and their associates were arrested. Some of them confessed the names of their accomplices, and arrest followed arrest, first at Genoa, then at Alessandria, Turin, and Chambery, later still at Nice, Cuneo, and Vercelli. The Piedmontese police obtained numerous confessions from the prisoners by offering pardon to those who gave them; and these confessions were used to overcome the firmness of others. There were several executions, chiefly of officers, soldiers, and lawyers, at Genoa, Alessandria, and Chambery. Of the leaders, Jacopo Ruffini committed suicide in prison; his brother, Giovanni, escaped to France, and joined Mazzini at Marseilles. Charles Albert and his minister, Villamarina, put down the conspiracy by stronger measures than had ever been used by any other Italian government.

Mazzini was not daunted by his failure; he rather felt the desire to retrieve this first defeat by a victory. Measuring the feelings of others by his own and those of his associates, he pictured to himself all the north filled with rage and horror at the stern justice which Charles Albert had meted out to the conspirators. He decided upon an invasion of Savoy, and sent word to his friends in Italy, that he was still resolved upon speedy action. At Genoa the association was reorganized before the end of the year. Amongst those who joined it was Giuseppi Garibaldi, then twenty-four years of age, and captain of a Genoese brig trading from port to port in the Mediterranean.

Geneva has always been a focus of revolution. Mazzini resolved to make it his head-quarters, and left Marseilles. He knew that the Genevese government would oppose him, but he felt he could rely upon having a large party among the citizens on his side. He established relations with many of the leading citizens, helped to set on foot a journal, L'Europe Centrale, to promote the idea of “the emancipation of Savoy,” and opened a correspondence with members of the Giovine Italia and citizens of Chambery, Annecy, Thonon, and other towns. They asked him what would be the fate of Savoy in the event of success. He gave the stereotyped reply of the modern revolutionist, “It would be left to the people to decide.” They might remain Italians, or join France or Switzerland; and for his part he advised them to choose the last.

These preliminaries being arranged, he began the actual organization of the expedition. There were a large number of Italian refugees scattered throughout France, but the expense of transporting them to the frontier of Savoy prevented him from assembling any but those who were close at hand in the south. A number of these were brought together at Besançon and Geneva. But there were other elements ready in the mass of German and Polish exiles who had taken refuge in Switzerland after the failure of the insurrectionary movements of 1831, where they had been hospitably received, subscriptions being raised for those who were in need of such assistance. The Germans were in the cantons of Zurich and Berne, the Poles in Neuchatel, Friburg, Vaud, and Geneva. Thus the whole force of the refugees was within easy reach of the Savoyard frontier, and could be organized without exciting the suspicion of the government. Money was supplied by some of the more wealthy members of the association. Arms were bought in Belgium and transferred to Geneva. The leaders lived together at one of the hotels in that city, which they had entirely to themselves, and which became at once the head-quarters of the movement and its arsenal.

As yet no commander had been named. The followers of Mazzini demanded some leader of note, and against his will selected General Ramorino, an Italian soldier of fortune, who had won a reputation which was hardly merited by his exploits, in the Polish war of 1831. The plan of action was laid before Ramorino, and he accepted the command. It was arranged that Mazzini should organize one column at Geneva, and Ramorino another at Lyons, and that both should invade Savoy before the end of October. This being settled, Ramorino left Geneva for Lyons, taking with him 40,000 francs for necessary expenses, and accompanied by a young Modenese, who, while he acted as his secretary, was privately to keep Mazzini informed of his progress. ((*)

Ramorino had left Geneva, when a young Corsican named Antonio Gallenga, a member of the Giovine Italia, called one evening at the hotel with a letter of introduction to Mazzini from Melegari, who spoke of him as a friend of his who had resolved upon accomplishing a great act. On being asked what was his purpose, he said that since the executions in Piedmont and Genoa, after the failure of the first conspiracy, “he had decided to avenge the blood of his brothers, and teach tyrants once for all that crime is followed by expiation: that he felt himself called upon to destroy Charles Albert, the traitor of 1821 and the executioner of his brethren (of the Giovine Italia); that he had nourished the idea in the solitudes of Corsica until it had obtained a gigantic power over him, and become stronger than himself.”

Mazzini raised various objections, and pointed out all the difficulties of such an attempt, telling him that the deed would certainly cost him his life; but he seems to have said all this less with the object of dissuading Gallenga from his enterprise, than of satisfying himself that he was really resolved upon it. He replied that he was prepared for it all, that he would strike the king down, shout Viva V Italia! and await his fate. Finally, he succeeded in persuading Mazzini that he was a second Harmodius or Brutus, “destined to teach tyrants that their fate is in the hands of a single man.” Mazzini asked him what he required; all he wished for was a passport and a little money. Mazzini gave him a thousand francs, and told him where he could get a passport. He remained in the hotel that night and part of the next day. Then he set off for Turin with a passport bearing the name of Louis Mariotti.

From the St. Gothard he sent an enthusiastic letter to Mazzini. He had prostrated himself upon the Alps and renewed his oath to Italy to do the deed. At Turin he saw the local committee of the Gio vine Italia, and arrangements were made to enable him to execute his purpose. On his way to the royal chapel each Sunday, the king passed through a long corridor, to which a few persons were admitted by tickets. One of these was procured for Gallenga, and he went to see the king and study the locality. The deed was to be done on the following Sunday, and the committee, not wishing to buy a dagger in Turin, sent Sciandra to Geneva, and he obtained one from Mazzini.

Meanwhile the latter had sent a certain Angelini to Turin on business connected with the proposed insurrection, but unknown to the committee; and this envoy, knowing nothing of Gallenga, took lodgings a few doors from those of the would-be regicide. The police heard of Angelini’s arrival, and went to the house to arrest him, but he escaped; and the committee, thinking that the carbineers had come into the street to look for Gallenga, sent the young man to a villa outside Turin, telling him that the attempt could not safely be made next Sunday, but if all was quiet they would send for him and introduce him into the corridor on one of the following Sundays. A few weeks after they did send for him, but either his enthusiasm had cooled down or his courage had evaporated. He was no where to be found, and he appeared before long in Switzerland. (*)

In the first week of October Mazzini’s preparations at Geneva were complete, but it was otherwise with Ramorino, who had done little else than waste time and money. In vain Mazzini sent messenger after messenger to hasten his preparations—amongst them Celeste, the brother of Ciro Menotti, who had been executed two years before at Modena. October, November, December, passed away in succession, and then he gave back to Mazzini ten thousand francs, and told him he could only get together a hundred men of the thousand whom he had promised. The delay inflicted a serious loss on Mazzini, deranged his plans, and lost him the support of the Swiss Carbonari, who, obeying the orders of Buonarotti, the head of the Haute Vente at Paris, withdrew from the movement.

On the 31st of January, 1834, Mazzini and Ramorino collected the invading column in the neighbourhood of Geneva. The refugees, to the number of about nine hundred men, assembled near the city and at various points on the shore of the lake, which they prepared to cross into Savoy. Mazzini had previously despatched some of his friends to take charge of the hundred refugees at Lyons, who were to make a diversion by entering Savoy at another point. Amongst them was Manfredi Fanti, afterwards a general in the Piedmontese' army.

On the first of February the movement began. The Genevese government tried to prevent the departure of Mazzini and his friends, but the people of the town took their side, and the police were forced to desist from the attempt. The column was to advance towards St. Julien. On the road it was to have been joined by a hundred and fifty Poles, under General Grabski, who had assembled at Nyon, where they were to cross the lake of Geneva. Then the column would occupy St. Julien, where there were only a few Piedmontese soldiers. There it would be joined by the Savoyard members of the Giovine Italia with their friends, and also by the German refugees, who were already on their way from Berne and Zurich.

But Mazzini’s enterprise was doomed to failure. Most of the Germans were stopped on the road by the Swiss troops. At Nyon, Grabski very unwisely put his men on board one boat and the arms on board another to convey them across the lake; and a Genevese cruiser seized first the cargo of arms, and then, with the help of some Swiss soldiers, stopped the transport, and sent the Poles back to Nyon. Some smaller parties of refugees, who endeavoured to cross near Ouchy and at other points on the lake, were stopped by the, authorities of the Canton of Vaud: while the band which had been collected at Lyons crossed the frontier near Chambery, and after a sharp engagement with the Piedmontese troops was driven back into France, leaving two prisoners in the hands of the victors. They were tried next day, sentenced to death, and shot.

Meanwhile Ramorino’s column had disarmed the custom-house posts at Annemasse and Villegrand, and distributed proclamations among the people, announcing that “the great day of Savoy had arrived, and that they were marching to overthrow the throne of Charles Albert, and win by conquest liberty, equality, and fraternity.” But no one joined them. In the evening they had reached the village of Carra. Ramorino was hesitating whether he should advance or retreat. Mazzini, who was now feverish with fatigue and excitement, was urging him to march on to St. Julien, asserting that they would be sure to get possession of it; and in fact, though Mazzini could not then know it, the small Piedmontese force had left the place and fallen back towards Annecy. Suddenly a few shots were fired by the advanced posts on a false alarm. Mazzini thought they were already in contact with the enemy. He seized a rifle, and was running forward, when his sight faded and he fell fainting to the ground. When his senses returned he was in Switzerland. Ramorino, declaring that it was impossible to effect anything, bad fallen back into the neutral territory of Geneva, where the column surrendered to the Swiss troops.

An insurrection was to have taken place at Genoa simultaneously with the invasion of Savoy. By the order of the local committee of the Giovine Italia, Garibaldi had enlisted as a seaman on board the Sardinian frigate “Eurydice,” which was stationed in the harbour, and he had succeeded in initiating many of his comrades into the society. While the conspirators on shore were to attack the barracks of the Carbinieri, Garibaldi and his friends on board the “Eurydice ” were to seize the ship, and thus place a frigate at the command of the revolutionists. The plot was discovered just before the time fixed for action, numerous arrests were made, and it was only with the utmost difficulty that Garibaldi succeeded in escaping into France from imprisonment and death.

The first epoch of Young Italy had closed, and it had ended in defeat. It had in its ranks two men who exercised a deep influence on the future of Italy. They might be called the representatives of revolutionary thought and action, the head and the right hand of the Italian movement—Mazzini and Garibaldi; the first thoughtful, studious, never so happy as when he was weaving some dark web of conspiracy, ever persevering through danger and defeat, wearing out his life for an idea in which he firmly believed, the inspirer of the Italian movement in its later form, its apostle, its real author, though other men have claimed the work as theirs: the other a soldier and nothing more, knowing nothing of politics beyond a rabid red-republicanism, nothing of religion beyond a hatred of the priesthood, a man who never handled the pen without writing words which proved his ignorance of men and of the world, and yet, who—thanks to a few brave actions in the field—was able to rally round him in later times army after army of devoted followers.

On the failure of the movement of 1834, these two men were separated. Mazzini remained in Europe, still plotting, writing and organizing in Switzerland and afterwards in London, (*) where at first as a friendless exile he endured privations and misfortune with a courage and constancy which even his bitterest opponents must admire, and then gradually rose to literary fame and competence, still continuing in England at once his plots against the Italian governments and his attacks upon them in the press, which, thanks to the national antipathy to the Pope, was ever open to the contributions of such of the Italian exiles as wished to make it the medium of their opinions on the affairs of their native land.

Far away in South America, Garibaldi was fighting for anyone who would buy his mercenary sword, at one time privateering in a way which it is difficult to distinguish from piracy, at another taking part in those interminable revolutions and pronunciamentos which occur year after year in the petty republics of the New World, and gradually gathering around him that legion of Italian soldiers of fortune, which later on formed the nucleus of the red-shirted Garibaldini of the revolutionary wars of Italy.

§ 3. Moderates and Mazzinians (1834—1846)

The repeated failures of the leaders of the party of action had now somewhat discouraged their friends and lessened their influence in Italy, and it was some time before they recovered their control over the Italianist movement. Meanwhile a new party of men — the_ Moderates — came to the front, and endeavoured to give a direction of their own to the agitation in Italy. They were no less revolutionists than the Mazzinians and the Carbonari; but they wished to effect their purpose by pacific means, by diplomacy, by a literary propaganda, by the influence of ideas rather than of action, in a word, they wished to revolutionize Italy without exposing the country to the dangers and troubles of a republic.

But it must not be forgotten that the Moderates had always the party of action to support them, for the Republicans—ever ready to go with them as far as they went, in the hope of being able to force them still further—formed from first to last the life and soul of the Italianist movement, giving it all the strength or consistency it possessed.

From 1834 to 1848 a host of political works appeared in Italy, chiefly written by men of the Moderate party, many of whom, however, had begun their political career as Republicans, and received their first inspirations from Mazzini and his predecessors. Chief among these writers were Terenzio Mamiani, Cesare Balbo, the Abb(5 Gioberti, and, later on, Massimo d’Azeglio. Of these, Gioberti proposed by far the wisest policy for the Italian people. He had begun his political career as a Mazzinian, had joined the Giovine Italia in 1832, and contributed to its journal under the signature of Demofilo, and had been imprisoned at Turin on the failure of the movement of 1833; but he had now left the Mazzinian party for the Moderates, and spoke of Mazzini as one of the foes of Italy.

We have little sympathy for this unfortunate priest, who abandoned his high and holy office to throw himself into the arms of the Revolution. We have no admiration for this shallow exponent of false philosophy and heretical theology. But, viewing him simply as a statesman, we believe that he was one of the few really able politicians of the Moderate party, if not the only one; and much of the advice which he gave to his country in his first political publication was sound and good. He condemned the conspiracies of the Carbonari and the Mazzinians as the real obstacles to the progress of Italy. He urged the Liberal party to lay aside all enmity between the upper and lower classes, and to give up its attacks upon the princes of Italy, the Papacy, and religion in general. He told them that Catholicity ever had been and ever would be the glory of Italy, and its possession her greatest privilege. Finally, he urged the formation of an Italian confederation with the Pope at its head. No better policy than this could have been suggested for the Italian people, but unfortunately Gioberti was not content to limit his programme to these prudent and really moderate proposals.

It must not, however be supposed that, while the Moderates were carrying on this literary crusade, the Republicans were idle. The works of the former only served to keep alive the flame, and pave the way for the secret propaganda of the Mazzinians, The mass of the disaffected in the Romagna, in the South, in the Duchies, and in Lombardy drew but little practical distinction between the Moderates and the Republicans. For them they were all Liberals and Revolutionists, varying indeed in shades of opinion from Gioberti at one end of the scale to Mazzini at the other, but Revolutionists all the same. They listened to the philosophic lamentations of the Moderates over the supposed miseries of Italy, they accepted their statements of the defects and faults of the existing governments; but the remedies they proposed were far too slow to satisfy their wishes, and they readily placed themselves under the leadership of Mazzini and his colleagues, whose influence in Italy began steadily to increase, even more through the exertions of the Moderate party than through their own.

In 1838 the Austrians evacuated Bologna, and the French garrison was withdrawn from Ancona. Two years after, the Pope made a progress through his States, and everywhere received an enthusiastic welcome from his people. There were rumours of a powerful conspiracy in the south. It was said that 1840 would not pass without an outbreak, and the Giovine Italia was active in the Romagna. In the midst of this excitement a band of Revolutionists, headed by a young doctor named Muratori, appeared near Ravenna and defeated a small detachment of Papal Carbineers, and captured the officer, whom they “subsequently shot in a barbarous manner.” (*)

Troops were sent in pursuit of them, but they escaped across the frontier into Tuscany. Another member of the Giovine Italia, named Ribotti, led two hundred men out of Bologna, disarmed the posts on the Via Emilia, and marched towards Imola. Cardinal Mastai, then bishop of that city, was entertaining the Legate, Cardinal Amat, and Cardinal Falconieri, Archbishop of Ravenna, at a villa beyond the walls. At the last moment the cardinals were informed of the approach of Ribotti; they escaped into the town, called the troops to arms, and closed the gates. Having failed to surprise the town, Ribotti drew off his men without attempting an attack. The band was pursued by the troops, and dispersed. Some few prisoners were taken, but the leader escaped.

Beyond this the Giovine Italia did nothing in the Pontifical States, and there was no attempt at a rising in the south. In the kingdom of Naples, under the wise rule of Ferdinand II., the secret societies had lost nearly all their influence, and might now be said to consist of a committee at Naples, with branches at Messina and in the Abruzzi and Calabria. In the latter district an attempt at insurrection was made in 1844, which, on account of the celebrity of the chief actors in it, we must narrate in some detail.

Attilio and Emilio Bandiera were the sons of Rear-Admiral Bandiera, a Venetian officer of the Austrian navy. Young, ardent, and enthusiastic, they had imbibed the ideas of the Italian Revolution from the writings of men of the school of Mazzini, and had learned to look upon him as the chief of the revolution in Italy. At length they resolved to put themselves in communication with him. They both held the rank of Lieutenant in the Austrian navy. Towards the end of 1842 Attilio Bandiera was with his ship at Smyrna. Thence he wrote to Mazzini, offering to place his services at his disposal, and entrusted the letter to a friend of his, Domenico Moro, also a lieutenant in the same service, who, being on his way to London, and holding the same views as the Bandieras, offered a safe means of communication with Mazzini.

The arch-conspirator accepted their offer. Under his guidance the two brothers and their friend, young Moro, began to spread the organization and the ideas of the Giovine Italia among the Venetian and Dalmatian sailors, who form so large a proportion of the erews of the Austrian navy. Early in 1844 they had formed a planfor seizing the Austrian frigate “Bellona,” and making a descent in Sicily with the arms and munitions on board the ship. Only a few days before the time which had been fixed for the attempt, the plot was revealed by one of their accomplices, and the Bandieras and Moro took to flight, and succeeded in escaping to Corfu, in the neutral territory of the Ionian Islands.

The Austrian government acted most generously at this juncture. Out of respect for their father, and believing that the Bandieras had been carried away by youthful indiscretion and enthusiasm, the Archduke Regnier pledged his word to their mother, that, if she could persuade them to return to Venice, he would procure them a free pardon and re-instatement in their rank in the navy. But it was all in vain. From Central Italy came rumours of insurrection and exaggerated reports of the movements of Muratori and his friends in the Romagna. An insignificant emeute in Calabria and the Abruzzi was magnified in the eyes of the exiles at Corfu into a general rising. The Bandieras felt a feverish desire for action; and, to the entreaties of their mother, Emilio, the younger of the two, replied, that "the only safe-conduct with which they could return to Italy lay at the sword point.”

They planned an expedition to Calabria with about twenty companions. They had only five hundred francs to provide for the expenses of the attempt, and they wrote to Fabrizi, Mazzini’s agent at Malta, for three thousand francs more. Mazzini and Fabrizi saw the madness of the enterprise, and refused the money, as the easiest way of preventing it. Shortly after, Mazzini sent to Corfu a friend of his, named Riciotti, who had fought in the wars of Italy and Spain. He was to land in Central Italy, and excite an insurrection in the district of Ancona; and the Bandieras agreed to accompany him. All the while the Italian governments were receiving complete information on the project, partly from one of the Bandieras companions, Boccheciampi, who was in communication with the Neapolitan consul at Corfu, partly from the English post-office, where Mazzini’s letters were opened and copied, resealed with forged seals, and then sent on to him, without one word of warning either to him or to his correspondents.

Despite all their efforts they could not succeed in procuring transport for the expedition to Ancona; and while they were in this difficulty, a Calabrian, who had fought amongst the insurgents, arrived at Corfu, bringing exaggerated accounts of thousands of men being in arms in the forests. Riciotti, the Bandieras, and their friends resolved to give up the expedition to Central Italy and make an attempt upon Calabria.

They easily obtained a passage on board an Italian ship, (*) and landed with eighteen companions in the province of Cosenza. They found the country at peace; no one joined them. Attacked by a small detachment of troops, they gallantly repulsed it; but a few days after they were again attacked at San Giovanni in Fiori, a little village in a deep hollow of the wooded hills, where they were taken prisoners after making a desperate defence, in which Emilio Bandiera had his arm broken and Moro was wounded. They were conveyed to Cosenza, where they were tried by a court-martial, and nine of them, including the two Bandieras, Moro and Riciotti, were condemned to death. They were shot in the marketplace, dying with the cry of “Viva l’Italia!” on their lips, after having repulsed the priest who offered them the last sacraments and the consolations of religion.

Most of those who have written on the fate of the Bandieras, knew little of the connexion with the enterprise of a man, who a few years after obtained an evil notoriety in Europe. The ordinary place of meeting of the conspirators at Corfu was the house of the renegade priest, Giacinto Achilli. When they sailed from the island, they chose, or were persuaded, to entrust their few valuables to this man. These consisted of gold accoutrements, watches, trinkets, and some fine wearing apparel. Achilli seems to have had no doubt of their inevitable fate, for within two days after they sailed he sold a quantity of the property, burning the gold lace to sell the metal, and shortly after he appeared in public wearing their clothes. These facts were perfectly notorious at the time at Corfu, and everyone there rejoiced at his subsequent downfall.

The year after the expedition of the Bandieras another attempt at insurrection was made in the Romagna. A young man named Pietro Renzi, at the head of the conspirators of Rimini, disarmed the few troops in the town, and called upon his countrymen to rise against the government. Another band, headed by Pietro. Beltrami, appeared near Faenza, and tried to raise the towns along the Via Emilia. But no one joined the insurgents. On the approach of the Pontifical troops Renzi’s band escaped into Tuscany; soon after he was followed by the band of Beltrami, which was driven out of the Romagna by the Swiss Pontifical troops, aided by bands of volunteers from all the neighbouring towns.

This was the last attempt at revolution in the stormy reign of Gregory XVI. He died after a short illness on the 1st of June 1846. Though darkened by the struggle with the Revolution his pontificate might well rank among the noblest in the later history of the Church. As a temporal prince, he had conferred lasting benefits on his subjects. A national bank was established, a new coinage issued, numerous roads had been constructed through the States, the harbour and naval arsenal of Ancona had been improved, and extensive public works had been executed at the mouth of the Tiber and in the harbour and city of Civita Vecchia. So far as mere material prosperity was concerned, the States were in a most flourishing condition. (*) That reforms were needed in many departments of the public service we do not for a moment deny; but much had been done, and more would have been effected but for those pests of modern Italy, the secret societies, which made it the first duty of every ruler to provide for the tranquillity of his States.

We need not speak of Gregory XVI. as a patron of art and learning. The names of Mai and Mezzofanti would alone have been sufficient to make his name illustrious. The wisdom and ability he displayed in the government of the Church has extorted the admiration even of Farini. In his interview with the Czar Nicholas of Russia, “with an emotion so noble and a dignity so much more than human that the fame of it went everywhere abroad,” (*) he told the persecutor of Catholic Poland, that, equally with the meanest of his subjects, he would one day have to appear before the judgment seat of God, and warned him to desist, while there was yet time, from the despotic policy which he was pursuing.

“I should not dare to meet the eyes of my Judge," he exclaimed, “if I did not this day endeavour to defend the religion entrusted to my charge, and which you are oppressing. Sire! think well on it. God has created kings that they may be the fathers, not the tyrants, of the subjects who obey them."

This courageous rebuke of Gregory XVI., addressed face to face to the most powerful sovereign in Europe, has justly taken its place among the noblest episodes in history.

CHAPTER VI

INSURRECTION

§ 1. Pius IX. 1846—1847

The Conclave of 1846 will be ever memorable in the history of the Church. It lasted but forty-eight hours, and the choice of the assembled cardinals fell upon Giovanni Maria Mastai Feretti, who will be renowned to the end of time as Pius IX.

Born in 1792 of an ancient and noble family of Sinigaglia, he had from his early years devoted himself to the service of the Church. His studies, begun in the college of Volterra, were completed in the Eternal City, where in 1819 he was raised to the dignity of the priesthood by the venerable Pius VII. Four years after, in 1823, the young ecclesiastic was entrusted with-an important mission to the government of Chili, which he discharged in a way that amply justified the confidence which had been reposed in him. Returning to Rome, he was appointed first to the archbishopric of Spoleto, then to that of Imola, which see he was governing when he received from the princes of the Church that tiara which was to be to him at once a crown of glory and a crown of thorns.

There is no need to dwell upon the virtues which have won for Pius IX. the love and veneration of two hundred millions of devoted children; on the invincible courage which has borne him through twenty-nine years of bitter trial and incessant danger; on the wisdom, displayed alike in the government of the universal Church and in the rule of those fair provinces till lately subject to his paternal sway. Dark and troubled as his long pontificate has been, it has at the same time been the most glorious since Peter resigned to Linus the Seal of the Fisherman. Pius IX. has ruled a wider empire than any pontiff that ever wore the tiara. And now, in this time of tribulation, when he is despoiled, persecuted, and imprisoned in his own palace, that empire is still firm and secure in the hearts of his children, who look forward with unshaken confidence to the day when the darkness of this night of mourning will be dissipated before the dawn of a triumph whose brightness will eclipse even the former glories of his reign.

From Bologna to Terracina the accession of Pius IX. was hailed with one outburst of joy. Men might well anticipate an illustrious career for this pontiff, who assumed the tiara in the prime of life, uniting the innocence of youth with the tried wisdom of maturer years; a pontiff whom none could approach without feeling that he stood in the presence of one whose privilege it was to conquer and to rule by love, whose every look was one of kindly solicitude for the happiness and welfare of all around him, and who, as priest, bishop, and cardinal, had been famed for that benevolence which had manifested itself in a thousand ways from far reaching schemes of public good to benefits conferred in secret on the poor, the desolate, and the afflicted, which won for him that best of all renown—that which springs from the deep heartfelt love of a grateful people.

His first act, as ruler of the Patrimony of St. Peter, was one which was dictated by the noble and kindly feelings of his generous heart. He wished the year of his accession to be a period of joy to all his subjects. He thought of the exiles of the Roman States, of the prisons of Umbria and Romagna, of the homes now desolate because some son or brother had allowed himself to be entangled in the secret societies and had fallen into the grasp of the law. He had resolved to attempt to disarm the Revolution by granting every just and reasonable demand, so as to be the better able to resist those which would have destroyed his legitimate authority; and, as the first step in this policy of reform, he determined to open the doors of the prison, and to give to the exile a means of returning to his native land.

Accordingly, on the morning of July 16th, one month after his election, a proclamation posted on the walls of Rome announced a general amnesty, limited only by the one condition, that those who availed themselves of it should “promise upon their word of honour not to abuse in any way or at any time this act of sovereign clemency, and pledge themselves besides to fulfil faithfully all the duties of loyal subjects.” Never was a proclamation hailed with such enthusiasm. Every party joined in applauding it. Twice that day the Pope was forced by the entreaties of the people to appear on the balcony of the Quirinal, to give them his blessing and witness their demonstrations of gratitude: and a third time after nightfall he came forth to give his blessing by torchlight to another assembly of the people.

Unfortunately for the Romans, and for the honour of humanity, men were found base enough to use the clemency of Pius IX. as a weapon against himself. Many there were who took the oath of the amnesty, and kept it faithfully; but others of the exiles returned to Rome only to commit an act of perjured treachery, by first promising to be faithful and loyal to Pius IX., and then carrying on as actively as ever the revolutionary agitation, and the organization of the secret societies. This had been the fear of those members of the Sacred College who had opposed the amnesty, and it was equally feared by Austria, who, herself’ adverse to any measures of reform whatever, and keeping down all agitation in her own territory by a system of military repression, eagerly watched for an opportunity of intervening in the States, in order to render the Pope’s temporal authority subservient to her own, and was already assuming a menacing attitude in her relations with the Pontifical government. For our part, we can only admire the wisdom and benevolence of Pius IX. in commencing his reign by a general amnesty. It was the measure in itself best calculated to strengthen his hands for future reforms; but that generous policy was turned against him by the revolutionary party, who at this juncture proved themselves before all the world the worst foes of Italy.

Only three months after the amnesty was proclaimed, Mazzini wrote to his friends in Italy, telling them to applaud every step made in advance, to endeavour to push the Italian governments still further, to organize, to propagate their views among the multitude. “Profit by the least concession,” he said, “to assemble the masses, were it only to testify gratitude. Fetes, songs, assemblies, numerous relations established among men of all opinions, suffice to make ideas gush out, to give the people a feeling of its strength, and render it exacting...

Organize! Organize! Everything is in that word. The secret societies give irresistible strength to the party that can call upon them. Do not fear to see them split; the more the better. All go to the same end by different ways.”

On August 8th, Cardinal Gizzi—a man beloved by all who knew him, and a personal friend of the Pope —became Secretary of State. With a view to obtaining complete information on the real wants of the States, and basing every measure of reform upon a thorough knowledge of the end to be gained, and the proper means to attain it, commissions were appointed to consider and report upon various subjects of importance, and arrangements were made to collect information from the magistrates, the municipalities, the clergy, and the leading men of the provinces. These prudent measures were Very disappointing to the Liberal party, who hoped for nothing less than some revolutionary scheme, drawn frdm the writings of one of their favourite teachers, and countersigned by the Pope; but they were dictated by sound common sense and practical statesmanship.

The first result of these labours was the edict of March, 1847, removing many of the restrictions on the press, and constituting a well-regulated censorship, which the existence of the irreconcilable revolutionary party reduced to a necessity. On the 14th of April a second edict constituted a Council of State to be composed of one representative for each province, selected by the Pope from three candidates nominated by the local government. Each of these changes was followed by a great public demonstration, and it soon became evident that there was more in these concourses of the people than appeared upon the surface. The agents of the secret societies in. Home organized almost daily meetings of the people, to discuss the measures taken by the government, and among the crowds in the streets, the doctrines of the revolutionary party were industriously propagated by speeches and discussions, and even by passing remarks. Foremost in this agitation was the notorious Ciceruacchio, a man possessed of a certain amount of rude eloquence, who imagined himself a second Rienzi. Seditious placards appeared on the walls, and in the provinces the popular assemblies had led to disturbances in more than one locality.

It therefore became necessary for the government to take steps towards allaying this excitement, and putting a stop to what was rapidly becoming a state of chronic agitation in Rome. On the 22nd of June a proclamation was published by Cardinal. Gizzi, in the name of the Pope. After referring to what had been already effected in the way of reform, it continued: “His Holiness is firmly resolved to pursue the course of amelioration in every branch of the public administration which may require it, but he is equally resolved to do this only in a prudent and calculated gradation, and within the limits which belong essentially to the sovereignty and the temporal government of the Head of the Catholic Church—a government which cannot adopt certain forms, which would ruin even the existence of the sovereignty, or at least diminish that external liberty, that independence in the exercise of the supreme primacy, for which God willed that the Holy See should have a temporal principality… The Holy Father has not been able to see without deep regret that certain restless minds are desirous of profiting by the present state of things to promulgate and endeavour to establish doctrines and ideas totally contrary to these maxims, or to impose upon him others entirely opposed to the tranquil and pacific nature, and the sublime character, of the person who is the Vicar of Jesus Christ, the minister of the God of Peace, and the father of all Catholics, to whatever part of the world they may belong; or, finally, to excite in the minds of the people, by speeches or writings, desires or hopes of reforms beyond the limits which His Holiness has indicated.” While thanking the people for their demonstrations of gratitude, the proclamation ooncluded by asking them, in the name of the Pope, to give the best proof of their devotion to him, by abstaining from “all unusual popular meetings and all extraordinary manifestations.”

This was a severe blow to the Liberals, as it marked the independent attitude which the Pope had assumed, and showed that he was resolved they should not make his reforms the pretexts for a revolutionary propaganda. Early in July, still developing his programme of reform, he published a proclamation, re-organizing the old Civic Guard of Rome, and extending the institution to the provincial towns. Cardinal Gizzi, who, remembering the part taken by the National Guard of Paris in the great Revolution, looked upon the Civic Guard as a danger to Rome, resigned his office, and was succeeded as Secretary of State by Cardinal Feretti, whose name was even more popular than that of his predecessor.

The Austrian government viewed all these proceedings with marked suspicion. During the Conclave, Austria had despatched two envoys from Vienna to convey to Rome the veto of the Imperial government against the name of Cardinal Mastai. As if by a miracle, both had been stopped upon the journey, and, now that in spite of her manoeuvres Pius IX. was Pope, Austria sought to raise every possible obstacle to his policy. Even for her own interests, a safer course would have been to acquiesce in the changes he introduced into the internal economy of the States, acknowledging his undoubted right to govern them as an independent sovereign in whatever way appeared to him best calculated to promote the welfare of his subjects.

Instead of this, Prince Metternich made an illadvised attempt to overawe the Pope, and this violation of his rights and opposition to his policy considerably strengthened the influence of the anti-Austrian party in Italy, and that of the Revolutionists. In the first weeks of July there were troubles in some of the Adriatic provinces, where party feeling ran high, and the Liberals and Reactionists on more than one occasion came to blows. There was a general suspicion at the time that these disturbances were secretly promoted by the Austrians as a pretext for intervention. On the 16th of July there were rumours of a Reactionist conspiracy against the government at Rome. The Civic Guard flew to arms. All was excitement and apprehension, and the Revolutionists endeavoured to intensify the alarm, in the hope of exciting a disturbance, and posted on the walls lists of those who were said to be engaged in the plot, beginning with cardinals and ending with policemen. The people searched the city for the proscribed individuals, but the government succeeded in preventing any movement which would have led to bloodshed, and order was restored after a few arrests had been made.

Next day 800 Austrians, with three guns, crossed the Po and entered Ferrara with bayonets fixed and matches lighted, alleging that they came to support the authority of the Sovereign Pontiff. Cardinal Ciacchi, the apostolic legate at Ferrara, indignantly protested against this invasion of the Pontifical territory, and in the name of the Pope, Cardinal Feretti demanded of Austria the prompt evacuation of the city. A war of despatches and negotiations followed, and while it was in progress, the Pontifical government showed that it was prepared for any emergency. The army was increased, and ordered to move northward; the banners of the Civic Guard were solemnly blessed by the Pope; the municipalities, the wealthier citizens, the bishops, and the various ecclesiastical bodies of the States, collected and subscribed money for the armaments. Everywhere the cry was “War against Austria!” The Pontifical government took advantage of this feeling to assert to the full its right to satisfaction from Austria; but at the same time care was taken not to go beyond the just limits of its claims, and thanks to this wise policy, the dispute was eventually arranged without having recourse to arms. By a convention with Austria, the occupation of Ferrara was strictly confined to the limits laid down by the treaty of Vienna; no Austrian patrols were allowed in the streets, and the Pontifical troops guarded the gates. Thus Metternich had gained little or nothing by this act of violence; its only result was to exasperate the Italian people against Austria, and this was just what the revolutionary party of action desired, for at that very time Mazzini was writing to his agents in Italy, urging them to do all they could to excite hatred against the Austrians. “The moment,” he said, “will surely arrive when the masses will discover that, if they wish to become a nation, they must work for it themselves, and enter upon a course of action calculated to force the Austrians to attack them, with or without the consent of their princes. Then the collision will begin, if the Italians have a spark of honour or courage in them. All good men should prepare for that moment by concerting their means of action, acquiring influence over the people, passing over their illusions without directly contradicting them, contenting themselves with enlightening the people, especially the peasantry, instructing the citizens in the use of arms, increasing more and more the hatred for the Austrians, and irritating Austria by every possible means.” Thus it will be seen that Metternich, by his overbearing conduct towards Pius IX., was actually assisting Mazzini and the Revolutionary party in the development of that policy which led to the general outbreak of the following year.

On October 15th a Proprio Motu, or proclamation emanating directly from the Pope, was published, explaining the objects and constitution of the Consulta, or Council of State, established by the decree of the preceding April. The Council was to consist of a Cardinal-President, a prelate as Vice-President, and twenty-four councillors named by the provinces, and who were to receive fixed salaries. Each province was to return a councillor. Bologna two, and Rome and its vicinity four. They were to be divided into four “sections,” or, as we would say, committees, the first of legislation, the second of finance, the 14 third of internal administration, commerce, and manufactures, the fourth of the army, public works, prisons, etc. The object of the Council was to “assist the Pope in the administration, to give its opinion on matters of government connected with the general interests of the state and those of the provinces, on the preparation of laws, their modification, and all administrative regulations, on the creation and redemption of public debts, the imposition or reduction of taxes, the alienation of property and estates belonging to the government, on the cession of contracts, on the customs’ tariff, and the conclusion of treaties of commerce, on the budget of the state, the verification of accounts, and general expenditure of the administration of the state and provinces, and on the revision and reform of the present organization of district and provincial councils.”

Thus the people were given a voice in every department of the government. The Council met on November 15th under the presidency of Cardinal Antonelli, who had been one of the first of the Roman prelates raised to the purple by Pius IX. In his opening speech the Pope made a marked reference to the Ultra-Liberal party, warning them that they would be gravely mistaken, if they thought they saw any realization of their own Utopias in the creation of the Council of State. On December 30th another Proprio Motu was published, constituting a regular ministry, and regulating its functions. The ministers appointed were—of Foreign Affairs, Cardinal Feretti; of the Interior, Mgr. Amici, Vice-President of the Consulta; of Education, Cardinal Mezzofanti; of Grace and Justice, Mgr. Roberti; of Finance, Mgr. Morichini; of Commerce, Cardinal Riario Sforza; of Public Works, Cardinal Massimo; of War, Mgr. Rusconi; and of Police, Mgr. Savelli.

Meanwhile the events transpiring at Rome were producing important results throughout the rest of Italy. The Grand Duke of Tuscany, following the example of Pius IX., granted greater freedom to the press, and established a Council of State and a Civic Guard. When the news of these events reached Lucca, on August 31st, the people assembled in crowds, raising the cry of “Viva Pio Nono!” and demanding of the Duke the adoption of the same policy as that of Rome and Florence. After some show of resistance the Duke yielded, and published a proclamation establishing a National Guard and a Council of State; but almost immediately after he repented of the act, and fled to Massa in the Modenese territory. He was prevailed upon to return to his capital, but to the general satisfaction of his people he negotiated a cession of his territories to the Grand Duke of Tuscany, the Grand Duke agreeing to indemnify the Duke of Lucca by paying him an annuity of £48,000 a year, until, in accordance with the treaty of Vienna, the Duchy of Parma reverted to him on the demise of the Archduchess Maria Louisa.

In Piedmont, Charles Albert, who had in the earlier years of his reign so vigorously repressed the secret societies in his states, now adopted a policy by which he hoped to conciliate the Liberals and increase his own power and influence in Italy. He had already been involved in a dispute with Austria on the subject of the customs’ duties on wine, in which the national antipathy to the Austrians had blazed out to an extent hardly warranted by the nature of the disagreement between the two Powers. When the Austrians occupied Ferrara, he offered the Pope his armed assistance, if he should require it, and he continually laboured to improve the Piedmontese army, which had been organized by Charles Felix, and which was now in his eyes the van-guard of Italian independence. Already he looked upon himself as the “Spada d Italia,” and saw in fancy the iron crown of Lombardy within his grasp. Towards the end of October he proclaimed the freedom of the press, and transferred the police from the military to the civil authorities, at the same time promising still further reforms; but it was evident that, foreseeing war with Austria, he was far more anxious to promote the efficiency of his army than to devote himself like Pius IX. to the internal reorganization of his states.

All the while the Revolution was at work below the surface. Tn Milan, on September 8th, there was a tumult, in which the cry of “Down with the Austrians!” was raised by the people; and, though order was easily restored without bloodshed, it was evident that the mass of the citizens were disaffected to the government. In the south there were outbreaks at Messina and Palermo, ever the centre of Revolution in Sicily, and an abortive attempt at insurrection in Calabria.

Abroad, the leaders of the Revolution were preparing for one united effort throughout Europe, and in England the Italian exiles were in close relation with Lord Palmerston. They were his chief authorities on the affairs of Italy, and their ideas inspired his foreign policy. He had already active agents at the courts of Naples and Turin, and he resolved to establish another at Rome. He selected Lord Minto for this post, and a bill was passed through parliament, authorizing diplomatic relations with the Holy See. In introducing it, Lord Palmerston stated that the Court of Rome had expressed a wish to have an English ambassador accredited to it, in order to strengthen the hands of the Pontifical Government. But this was later on explicitly and publicly denied by the Roman Court. The fact was that Lord Normanby, the English ambassador at Paris, acting on behalf of Lord Palmerston, had, in the course of an unofficial conversation, succeeded in drawing from the Nuncio, Mgr. Fornari, a vague statement that the Papal Government had long wished to be in relation with that of England. But this could not be considered as an invitation on the part of Pius IX. and his advisers, and the Nuncio himself afterwards carefully guarded his words, by pointing out that he only spoke in his individual capacity. However, the words were spoken, and they afforded the pretext which Lord Palmerston sought for, in order to dispatch Lord Minto to Rome.

On the 18th of September, 1847, Lord Palmerston furnished Lord Minto with his instructions, and he immediately left London, passing through Switzerland on his way to Italy. He was authorized and instructed to communicate with the Italian exiles in Switzerland, amongst whom were some of the most desperate of the Revolutionary leaders. He was to ascertain what were their real views, and wherever he thought it advisable he was to inform them of the sentiments of the British government. This was the first part of his mission.

Lord Minto arrived in Rome about the end of October. The Revolutionary party regarded his appearance in the city as a great triumph—a direct pledge of the countenance and assistance of England. The same evening a crowd with tricoloured banners assembled in the Piazza di Spagna, and loudly cheered him with cries of “Viva Milord Minto! Viva l’Inghilterra!” and he addressed them from the window of his hotel, ending his speech by shouting “Viva l’Independenza Italiana!” His acquaintances —the men with whom he publicly associated—were the leaders of the Roman agitators. Foremost among them, and apparently most intimate with the English envoy, was the burly demagogue, Ciceruacchio. When a banquet was given on the 15th of November at the Theatre d’Apollon, to celebrate the establishment of the Consults, Lord Minto was present in one of the boxes. Beside him sat Ciceruacchio, and they were greeted by the Liberals with one common outburst of applause. Amongst his other friends were Sterbini and the Prince of Canino, the two great leaders of the Roman Liberals. His hotel became the regular rendezvous of these and others like them. From them he derived all his information on the politics of Italy. He adopted their views, and embodied them in his despatches, and they were accepted and endorsed by his chief, Lord Palmerston.

In his intercourse with the Papal Court, Lord Minto assumed the air of a powerful patron of a little state. He displayed a sublime disdain for diplomatic formalities. He seemed to think that it was quite a natural thing for an ambassador to be in open relation with men who were well known to be the bitterest foes of the government to which he was accredited. Either he was too stupid to see how distasteful and offensive his whole conduct was to the Pope and his advisers, or he had the effrontery to disregard whatever they might think of it. By Pius IX. and the polished Roman Court he was received with a courtesy which perhaps he did not understand, but which certainly he did not appreciate. We have said he disregarded the customary formalities of diplomacy; he did more than this, he forgot those of ordinary etiquette. One day Pius IX. had arranged to give him a public reception. The Swiss guards were under arms; the chamberlains and prelates of the court were in attendance, to do honour to the occasion. Lord Minto rode to the Quirinal, and walked into the palace in a frock-coat and dirty boots. The chamberlain who received him sent word to the Pope that the ambassador had arrived in his riding dress. The guards and officers were hastily dismissed, all idea of a public reception was abandoned, and Lord Minto was very courteously received in private. No other sovereign, and no other court in Europe would have condescended so far, and Lord Minto, perhaps involuntarily, had put a slight upon the court of the Quirinal, which no doubt afforded intense satisfaction to his good friends of the Liberal party.

The only result of his mission was to materially increase the agitation at Rome, and to help to prepare the way for the outbreak of 1848. But it was not only at Rome that the Revolutionary party was active. Everywhere the secret societies were preparing to employ the concessions of Pius IX. and his brother sovereigns in order to overwhelm their thrones, and to take advantage of the feeling against Austria to plunge their country into a Revolutionary war for the recovery of Lombardy and Venetia. In the Liberal press, in the language of public speakers, and in the assemblies of the people, there could be traced half-concealed warnings of coming trouble; and the year 1847 closed amid the threatening darkness of a gathering storm, which was to involve in its fury not Italy alone but all Europe.

Already a significant note of warning had come from Germany, where the autumn had witnessed the assembly of a great congress of European Freemasonry, and amongst its leaders were many of those who took a prominent part in the events of 1848.

§ 2. The Year of Revolutions

The events which marked the first days of 1848 were of a sufficiently ominous character. On the 1st of January the Roman demagogues organized a procession to the Quirinal. As it was feared that this would be made the pretext for a revolutionary movement, troops were concentrated near the palace; but there was no need of employing them, for Prince Corsini, the Senator of Rome, succeeded in inducing the people to disperse. Next evening the Pope drove through the streets in order to show his confidence in the people. They were crowded with the Roman citizens and the Civic Guard, and decorated with hundreds of flags. The Pope received an enthusiastic reception, but it was marred by an incident characteristic of the times. As the carriage passed down the Corso, Ciceruacchio sprang upon it, holding a tricoloured banner, which he waved over the head of the Pope, rudely crying out, “Coraggio Santa Padre!” On reaching the Quirinal Pius IX. requested the people to disperse quietly, and, being satisfied with the proceedings of the evening, they obeyed.

On the 3rd, there was a disturbance at Milan. The Liberals of the city had formed a league, the object of which was to discourage the practice of smoking, as the government drew much of its revenue from duties on tobacco. The members of the league did not, however, confine themselves to this merely passive attitude, but sought to annoy and molest the garrison in every possible way, and there were one or two cowardly assassinations of individual soldiers. On the 3rd, large numbers of soldiers were walking about the streets, ostentatiously smoking cigars, as a kind of agreeable protest against the Liberal agitation. The people felt insulted by this, as it was said to be done by order of the commandant, and there were frequent encounters between groups of young men and the soldiers, in which the latter at length began to use their swords, and several of their assailants were wounded.

During the rest of the month there was a continual ferment in Milan, though the Archduke Regnier addressed two conciliatory proclamations to the people, and the soldiers were strictly forbidden to smoke in the streets. On the 19 th, the veteran Marshal Radetzki, (*) commanding the Austrian army of Italy, issued a general order to his troops, in which he plainly told them to prepare for the worst. “The sword,” he said, “which I have borne for fifty-six years with honour on so many battle-fields, as yet remains firm in my grasp. May we not be compelled to unfurl the banner of the double-headed eagle; its strength of wing will be found unimpaired,”—words to which subsequent events gave an almost prophetic character.

But it was not in the north that the struggle began; the first sound of battle came from the south, from Palermo, the centre of the Sicilian Revolution. On the eve of the king’s birthday, January 12th, proclamations were published by the Liberal Giunta calling the people to arms. Not content with the concessions already made by Ferdinand, they demanded nothing less than universal suffrage and the Spanish Constitution, which had been withdrawn after the revolt of 1821. On the 12th bands of insurgents appeared in the streets, and disarmed the Neapolitan patrols. As the commandant kept his men together in the forts and barracks waiting for re-inforcements, they met with little resistance, and by the evening of the 13th the whole of Palermo was in their hands. The forts opened fire upon the city, and for forty-eight hours nothing was heard but the roar of guns, the bursting of shells, and the falling of ruined houses. The city was burning in several places, but the insurgent leaders succeeded in keeping their men steady under the fire of the forts, which was causing them but little loss. Seeing that a mere bombardment would not retake the city, and as the success of an attack by storm was very doubtful, the firing ceased, and on the 18th the king granted several of the demands of the insurgents. The latter, however, refused to accept anything less than the constitution of 1812 and a separate parliament for Sicily.

At Naples the news from Palermo was causing great excitement among the people, and it was feared that the Revolution would spread to the capital. On January 28 th, therefore, the king yielded everything by publishing a constitution for the kingdom of the Two Sicilies, ordering the evacuation of the forts of Palermo, and promising a general amnesty on February 1st. But even this did not satisfy the Sicilians. Their demands increased with their success. Their object was now the independence of the island, and on the very day that the constitution was proclaimed at Naples, the people of Messina rose in arms to the cry of “Viva l’independenza Siciliana,” took possession of the city, and then besieged the citadel, which, however, held out until it was relieved in the following September.

The news of these events increased the agitation throughout all Northern and Central Italy. On February Sth, Charles Albert granted his subjects a constitution, which now forms the Statute Fondamento or Constitution of the Piedmontese kingdom of Italy. (*) At Rome there was the most intense excitement. There were illuminations in the streets, mob demonstrations at which the cry of “Death to the Jesuits!” was raised by the Revolutionists; and the agents of the secret societies even attempted to organize guerilla bands on the Roman frontier, to co-operate with the Revolutionists in the kingdom of Naples. To add to the agitation at Rome, the Liberals spread reports of an intended Austrian invasion of the Papal territory, and demanded immediate preparations for defence; while the now notorious Padre Gavazzi openly preached war against Austria.

To allay these fears, a proclamation was published by the Pope on February 10th, announcing his intention of introducing more laymen into the Council of Ministers, and of re-organizing the army, but at the same time warning the people of the baseless character of the warlike rumours circulated by the Liberals, whose only object was to promote disorder. With sublime confidence in the inviolability of his sacred office,. Pius IX. spoke of Rome as unassailable by foreign foes, and concluded by praying for the welfare of Italy.

“We, too, above all,” he said; “we, the head and Pontiff of the Most Holy Catholic Religion; can it be that we should not find ready to defend us, whenever we might be unjustly assailed, countless children who would sustain the centre of Catholic Unity like the mansion of a father? A great gift of heaven is this, among so many gifts with which Italy has been highly favoured—that our own subjects, in number scarce 3,000,000, have 200,000,000 brothers of every nation and of every tongue. This has been at other periods, and at the wreck of the whole Roman world, Rome’s salvation. From this cause the ruin of Italy never has been entire. Here will ever lie her defence, so long as this Apostolic See shall continue in the midst of her. Bless, then, Italy, O great God! and preserve to her for ever this gift, the choicest of all—her faith. Bless her with the benediction which thy Vicar, his forehead bowed to the earth, humbly prays of thee. Bless her with the benediction which is besought of Thee by the saints to whom she has given birth; by the Queen of Saints, who protects her; by the Apostles, of whom she cherishes the glorious remains; and by Thine Incarnate Son, who sent his Representative on earth to reside in this city of Rome.”

This proclamation, as it well might, revived all the old enthusiasm of the people. Crowds gathered around the Quirinal to ask the blessing of the Pope. He granted it, but at the same time repeated his warnings against the Revolutionary propaganda. Two days after several laymen received portfolios in the Ministry, and a commission was appointed to frame a constitution for the Roman States, adapted at once to satisfy the desires of the people, and to protect the freedom of the ecclesiastical power, a work which necessarily required time and consideration for its accomplishment. Nevertheless, the agitators continually cried out for more haste in the preparation of the constitution, and even went to the Quirinal to urge the Pope to accelerate the proceedings of the commission. He replied by pointing out the difficulties of the task on which they were engaged, but assured them that the constitution would be ready in a few days.

Meanwhile, there came from France the news of the Revolution at Paris and the flight of the king, and the agitation in Italy rose to the verge of armed insurrection. On March 10th a new Ministry was constituted at Rome, under the presidency of Cardinal Antonelli; (*) and four days after a proclamation was published, promulgating the Roman constitution, which gave to the States a complete system of representative government.

The same week the Revolutionary war began in Italy. The force under Radetzki in the Austrian provinces amounted to between seventy and eighty thousand men, but of these fully one third were Lombards and Venetians, not mingled with men of other nationalities, but embodied in separate battalions. His head-quarters were at Milan, which was garrisoned by three brigades or 18,000 men, of whom 5000 were Lombards. The population of the city was about 160,000 souls, the streets, except a few great thoroughfares, were narrow and tortuous, the houses lofty, and the whole surrounded by a wall, erected not for defensive purposes, but to prevent smuggling, and having gates like the ordinary barriers of foreign cities. There was also the old castle, built in the days of Spanish rule to overawe the city, and now occupied by some of the Austrian troops.

The news of the Revolution at Paris had added but little to the excitement at Milan, merely because it had already reached fever-heat; Mazzini’s friends in the city—Mora, Griffini, Pezzotti, Porro, Bachi, Ceroni, Visconti-Venosta, and others like them—were organizing an insurrection, and when the news arrived that the Emperor Ferdinand had proclaimed a constitution at Vienna, it broke forth with irresistible violence. On the morning of March 18th, a deputation waited on Count O’Donnel, then governor of the city, to demand the formation of a Civic Guard. They began by massacring the sentinels before his palace, and when he -acceded to their request, they hoisted the tricolor on the Broletto, or Town Hall. Radetzki from the castle saw the flag, and received intelligence of the attack on the guard at the governor’s palace. He immediately fired an alarm gun, and put the troops in motion to disperse the armed crowds fast gathering in the streets.

The conflict between the Austrian garrison and the Milanese was a desperate one. It lasted for five days, while the most heroic courage was displayed on both sides. The narrow streets were barricaded, and those barricades were defended less by a direct fire from their crests, than by the flanking fire which poured down on the Austrians from the windows and the showers of tiles, bricks, and even boiling water, which descended from the roofs. When one barricade was stormed, others rose as if by magic in different directions. The Milanese had arms in abundance, and they were joined by the Italian regiments of the garrison, and skilfully directed by the officers and leaders, who took advantage of every lane and passage to sally upon the flanks of the Austrians and cut off their communications with each other. Austrian and Lombard alike fought with reckless daring. At one place a Hungarian officer of hussars rode his horse up a barricade, sabre in hand; but as he reached the crest, horse and rider fell riddled with bullets. At another, an old beggar named Soltocorni stood leaning on his crutch in the midst of the fire, encouraging his countrymen in the attack of the barracks of the engineers.

The news of the rising of Milan spread far and wide through Lombardy, the tocsin was ringing in the villages, the peasantry were making ill-directed efforts to destroy the bridges in order to delay the approach of Austrian reinforcements, or were trooping to the attack of the gates of Milan. Radetzki had conducted the defence of the city with great forbearance; he might easily have bombarded it from the castle, but he did not fire a single shell. He took numerous prisoners at various points, but he liberated most of them, keeping a few as hostages for the families of the Austrian employes who were in the hands of the insurgents. On the 22nd the old marshal reluctantly decided on giving up the contest. He was short of ammunition, provisions, and water; his communication with the rest of Lombardy was interrupted; and there were reports that Charles Albert and the Piedmontese army had crossed the Ticino.

“Soldiers,” he said, in a brief proclamation, “the treachery of our allies, the fury of an enraged people, and the scarcity of provisions oblige me to abandon the city of Milan, for the purpose of taking position on another line, from which at your head I can return to victory.” At 11 P.M. the troops were massed by torchlight before the castle, and moved out of the city in five columns, carrying with them their artillery, baggage, and wounded. The movement was covered by skirmishers, who beat off every attempt to interrupt it, and the army began its march to the Adige.

At the same time the Provisional government of Milan published a proclamation announcing their victory, swearing that they would not lay down their arms till the Austrians were driven over the Alps, and calling all Italy to their aid. But in the exultation of the moment they exaggerated their success. They represented the Austrian army as totally disorganized, and described the solid columns which Radetzki was leading towards Verona as “scattered in the fields—wandering like wild beasts— united in bands of plunderers.” Never was there a greater deception. The Austrians had suffered a first defeat, and that was all.

Pavia, Parma, Como, and Brescia were already in open insurrection. Mantua was saved to Austria by the intrepidity of its Polish commandant, General Gorzkowski. A National Guard had been formed. The citadel, garrisoned only by a few hundred hussars and artillerymen, was summoned to surrender; had it been attacked, defence was impossible. Gorzkowski received a deputation of the insurgents courteously; he told them he would hold the citadel to the last; he showed them the barrels of powder stored in his magazines; he held a flint in his hand. “When I can defend this fortress no more,” he said, “with this hand I will blow it into the air, and with the explosion half Mantua will be destroyed.” The deputies returned to their friends, but no attack was made upon the citadel. The night was passed by the Mantuans in useless rejoicing over the coming downfall of Austria; next morning some troops detached by Radetzki entered the city, and the citadel was saved.

At Padua, General D’Aspre, knowing that his own position in the town would be untenable in case of a rising, and fearing for the safety of Verona, resolved to reinforce the garrison of that fortress with his own troops. He allowed the Paduans to form a Provisional Government. “I am about to commence a peaceable retreat,” he said to a deputation of the citizens. “I would willingly part with you as a friend; but if I am attacked, I will lay the town in ashes, and cut down every man who opposes me. To your honour I commend the property we cannot remove, the women and children, and the sick in the hospital. I quit you in friendship; be assured I shall shortly return, and woe betide you if I come as an enemy I” No attempt was made to interrupt his retreat. He reached Verona in safety, and rode forward to meet the approaching columns of Radetzki. “You come to tell me that all is lost,’ exclaimed the veteran, startled at meeting his lieutenant. “No,” replied D’Aspre, “I come to tell you all is saved.”

On the 22nd the Revolution had extended to the shores of the Adriatic, and the long forgotten cry of “Viva San Marco!” was heard in the streets of Venice. There Daniel Manin and the poet Niccolo Tommaseo had kept up a continual agitation, speaking and writing against the government, insulting the governor Pallfy and his wife, and raising the cry of “Death to Metternich!” and “Death to Pallfy!” On the night of the 21st the news of the rising at Milan had reached Venice, and a meeting of the conspirators was held at the house of Manin. “Various means were discussed,” says his biographer, Monterossi, “and it was at last resolved to gain possession of the arsenal, and to cry out ‘Viva San Marco!' Our people would have paid no attention to the promise of a constitutional government—few of their number would have understood it. It was necessary to arouse that sleeping lion, which had remained in the belfry tower during the universal monarchy of Napoleon, as well as under the tyranny of Austria, in proof that neither should last for ever. This was the opinion of Manin, and it prevailed.”

Next morning a crowd collected in the Square of St. Mark, pelted the soldiers with stones, and took possession of the palace and public offices. Then Manin and Tommaseo put themselves at the head of the Civic Guard which had been enrolled a few days before, and proceeded to the arsenal. It had just been the scene of one of those tragedies which darken the story of the Italian Revolution.

Colonel Marinovich, the commandant of the arsenal, was very unpopular with the workmen on account of the strict discipline he enforced. A report had been industriously circulated, to the effect that he had proposed blowing up the city with mines or burning it with rockets; and this absurd story was generally believed. On the 21st, some of the workmen had been watching to make an attempt on his life, but be eluded them and went on board a man-of-war in the harbour. Next morning he returned to his post at the arsenal, but an infuriated crowd gathered before the gates, calling out for the death of “the traitor.” Marinovich concealed himself in one of the gate towers, but he was dragged from his hiding-place by the workmen. One of them seized his sword, another struck him in the face, a third pierced him with a pointed weapon. He fell to the ground, and was dragged downstairs. He begged for a priest, but the answer was a refusal, and he was pierced and hacked by a hundred weapons. These details are taken, not from a hostile source, but from an official document, in which, to their eternal infamy, the Republican Government of Venice, headed by Manin, described the brutal murder as a special judgment of God.

Marinovich had just been murdered, when Manin arrived before the arsenal with the Civic Guard. Very little opposition was made by the garrison. The doors of the armouries were burst open, and the stores of arms and ammunition distributed among the people, and then a deputation was sent to Count Pallfy to demand the surrender of the whole city into the hands of a Provisional Government. Pallfy send General Zichy, who commanded the garrison, had as yet made no attempt to suppress the insurrection; and when the news of the death of Marinovich and the capture of the arsenal arrived, they gave up all idea of resistance, though they had 5000 men at their disposal. Zichy, without firing a shot, entered into a negotiation with the insurgents. It ended in a capitulation, by which the garrison was to go by sea to Trieste, leaving behind it all the military stores in Venice, the military chest, and the Italian soldiers in the Austrian service. A Provisional Government was then installed, Manin being president, Tommaseo his coadjutor; a Jew, named Pincherle, taking charge of the finances, and a place in the cabinet, without a portfolio being assigned to a tailor named Toffoli, whose eloquence had been of great service in stirring up the people to insurrection. The first acts of the government showed how unfitted they were to exercise the least authority. Large numbers of German residents were expelled from the city or imprisoned, and amongst the latter were several ladies, some of them invalids who had come to Venice for the sake of its genial climate.

The accomplishment of the Revolution at Venice coincided in date with the evacuation of Milan by Radetzki, and the following day witnessed the declaration of war against Austria by Charles Albert. The news of the rising at Milan had reached Turin five days before, but so long as the battle raged in the streets of Milan and victory was doubtful, Charles Albert hesitated to throw his sword into the scale against Austria. He feared a Republican rising in his own states, as well as a victory for Radetzki at Milan, which in case of a premature movement would leave him to grapple single-handed with Austria. When he had gone so far, his hesitation showed little wisdom. He ought to have known that Radetzki would abandon Milan the moment the Piedmontese vanguard crossed the Ticino.

On the 19th, orders were given for the formation of a corps of observation on the frontier at Novara, Mortara, and Voghera. Meanwhile, orders were sent off to stop the Republican volunteers, who were hastening from Genoa and Piedmont towards Milan, and eighty Lombards were disarmed on the Lago Maggiore. On the 20th came reports—false as it happened—that the insurgents were failing at Milan. The same day Count Arese, the chief of the Lombard venta, who had fled to Switzerland in 1831, and there formed an intimate friendship with Louis Napoleon, arrived at Turin as an envoy from Milan to ask the aid of Piedmont. Charles Albert offered it next day, on. condition of the annexation of the Milanese to his states; the municipality of Milan and the military leaders, inclined as they were to a republic, hesitated. On the following evening Charles Albert, through his minister, informed Count Buol, the Austrian ambassador, that “he desired to second him in all that could confirm the relations of friendship and good neighbourship existing between the two states ”—one of those explicit statements of policy which it is the invariable practice of Piedmontese statesmen to make before acting in precisely the opposite direction.

On the day after (the 23rd) the news arrived of Radetzki’s retreat, and Charles Albert could hesitate no longer. He resolved on declaring war against Austria, but the foreign ambassadors were informed that the object of the king was to secure the national movement in Lombardy from falling into the hands of the Republicans, and at the same time to prevent a Revolution in Piedmont. (*) In his proclamation to the people of Lombardy and Venetia, with which he began the war, Charles Albert told them that his armies were already concentrating on the Ticino when Milan was delivered from the Austrian yoke, and now he came to give them the help which brother expects from brother, friend from friend. He ended this declaration of war by proclaiming that, in order to afford a clear and visible expression to the sentiment of Italian unity, he desired that his troops should cross the Ticino, bearing the arms of Savoy upon the tricolour of Italy. The concluding words of the proclamation produced a bad effect in Lombardy and Venetia. They were regarded as an utterance of Piedmontese ambition, and so little was the idea of unity in its present acceptation understood by the people, that the fusion of Lombardy with Piedmont, proposed by Gioberti, was very unpopular, and Venice had already proclaimed its independence.

The first Piedmontese troops entered Milan on the 26th. The army consisted of upwards of 40,000 men, organized in two corps of 20,000 each, commanded by Generals Sonna and Bava, and a reserve under the king’s eldest son, Victor Emmanuel, Duke of Savoy; his second son, the Duke of Genoa, commanded the artillery. But these were not the only forces to engage in the war on the side of Italy. Already volunteers were marching northward from the south and centre, and the exiles were hurrying from France, England, and Spain. Garibaldi and some of his companions arrived from South America,

having started towards the end of 1847. Mazzini hastened from London to Milan; Enrico Cialdini gave up his commission in the Spanish Foreign Legion to join the Revolutionary army in Italy; Pepe, taking advantage of the amnesty, returned to Naples to resume his place in the royal army.

In a few days Tuscany and Naples had proclaimed war against Austria, and their troops were moving northward. At Rome the Pope, as head of the universal Church, could not declare an aggressive war against a Catholic state, but many of the Liberals, acting in their individual capacity, took up arms and joined in the Italian war, and the Pontifical army of 8000 men was sent to the frontier to protect the neutrality and integrity of the States. It was commanded by General Durando, a Liberal Italian soldier, who had returned from exile to reorganize the Papal army. He was accompanied by Massimo D’Azeglio, who served on his staff, and he was reinforced in a few days by the Civic Guard of about 10,000 men, under General Ferrari.

At the same time the voice of Pius IX. was heard above the din of mustering armies, telling the Italian people that success had its dangers as well as defeat, and warning them against the apostles of anarchy and irreligion, in such noble language as extorted admiration even from his enemies.

§ 3. The Struggle with Austria

After providing for the garrisons of the fortresses, Radetzki was able to collect but little more than 18,000 men behind the Mincio, to await,the advance of the Piedmontese. His communications through Venetia were cut off by the insurrection in his rear; those through the Tyrol were threatened by the Italian free corps. His first care was to detach a column of 800 men, under Colonel Zobel, to secure the Tyrol. Zobel occupied the Brenner Pass, and soon succeeded in collecting a formidable army of Tyrolese riflemen, led by Haspinger, the friend of Hofer. At the same time, Peschiera and Mantua were provisioned for a siege, and put in a complete state of defence.

Meanwhile Charles Albert remained inactive, waiting for reinforcements, and negotiating with the Provisional Government of Lombardy. In his dread of the Republic, he considerably weakened his forces by discouraging the armament of the people of Lombardy, refusing the aid of Garibaldi and other revolutionary leaders, and neglecting to incorporate in his army the Italian soldiers of the disbanded Austro-Italian regiments. The Republicans and the popular leaders resented this evident distrust, and already those dissensions began which soon made it apparent that the Italians could not even unite against their foes. Unfortunately Charles Albert had no fixed policy. Instead of assuming command in Lombardy, and forcibly uniting every element for the war against Austria, he treated the leaders of the Revolutionary party as allies and equals, and negotiated and debated with provisional governments, associations, and committees, till all the North became one vast debating club; while on the other side the defence of the Austrian dominions was directed with one well-defined aim by the single mind of Radetzky.

On April 6th the advance began. On the 8th General Bava, with 4000 Piedmontese, captured the bridge of Goito, after a desperate conflict, and Charles Albert crossed the Mincio. Radetzki, fearing to risk the loss of his army—now the last hope of Austria in Italy—retired behind the Adige to the glacis of Verona. The Piedmontese king thus found himself in possession of the centre of the line of the Mincio, but the fortresses of Peschiera and Mantua at its extremities were held by Austrian garrisons. The strategy of Charles Albert*during this war has been praised to an extent by no means warranted by the facts; indeed it seems to us that his strategy was very defective. His real object was the army of Radetzki; it was confessedly too weak to risk a pitched battle, and its very existence therefore depended on its. communications with the Tyrol., But Charles Albert halted on the Mincio to prepare for the siege of Peschiera, instead of acting against Radetzki’s communications through the Tyrol. The Lombard. Free Corps, having received orders to that effect from the Provisional Government of Milan, asked his permission to make an attempt upon the TyroL He granted it, but refused to lend them two regiments of Bersaglieri and a couple of guns. Even without them they succeeded in overrunning the country up to Trent, but they were then driven back to the Lake of Garda by an Austrian column, under General Weldon. Had they been supported by guns and Bersaglieri, they would probably have taken Trent, and in that case Radetzki’s army would have been completely cut off from Austria, and in a very perilous position. On this occasion Charles Albert, by his distrust of his Republican allies, missed a chance which was never offered to him again.

Charles Albert now sent La Marmora to hasten the organization of the Venetian army, while General Durando, exceeding his instructions, entered the Venetian territory at the head of the Pontifical army. At the same time the main body of the Piedmontese troops occupied Pastrengo and Bossolengo, on the road to Rivoli, after two sharp conflicts with the Austrians on April 29th and 30th. Charles Albert then began the siege of Peschiera and the blockade of Mantua. On the 5th of the following month he made an attempt against the famous plateau of Rivoli, which, had it succeeded, would have cut Radetzki off from the Tyrol; but it was made by a small, ill directed force, and the Italians were repulsed. Next day the Piedmontese attacked the Austrian position at Santa Lucia, in front of Verona. They forced the village, hut failed to make any impression on the Austrian line beyond it. At night-fall Charles Albert ordered a retreat. It was covered by a brigade under the Duke of Savoy, but there was such disorder that several hundred prisoners fell into the hands of the Austrians. Two weeks of uncertainty followed, while Charles Albert pressed the siege of Peschiera. But now came the turn of the war. Radetzki had held his ground long enough, for General Nugent, a gallant Irish veteran, having assembled the Austrian army of reserve of about 18,000 men on the Venetian frontier, was advancing to his aid. Nugent captured Udine, out-manoeuvred Durando and the Pontifical troops on the Piave, and then resigned the command to Count Thum, who joined Radetzki near Verona, on May 21st. Thus the Austrian army on the Adige was raised from 18,000 to nearly 40,000 men.

Meanwhile, events of importance had occurred at Rome, at Naples, and in Sicily. On the 13th of April the Sicilian parliament met at Palermo. The Liberal party in the chambers was led by Paternostro, seconded by La Farina, who had come from Florence, where he edited an Ultra-Liberal journal, to aid in revolutionizing his native Sicily. Paternostro proposed that the parliament should begin its work by deposing the king, and La Farina suggested that they should form a Sicilian constitution, and decide whether Sicily should be a republic or a constitutional monarchy, under one of the princes of the House of Savoy or Tuscany. After a brief debate, the parliament resolved that:—“1. Ferdinand and his dynasty are for ever fallen from the throne of Sicily. 2. Sicily shall govern herself constitutionally, and call to the throne an Italian prince, as soon as she shall have reformed her constitution.” Such was the first practical evidence of how little the theory of constitutional government was understood in Sicily. Then for three months the parliament was engaged in forming the constitution, while the provisional government was preparing for war against Naples, receiving the moral support of the presence of a French and English fleet off Palermo, and the assistance of several heavy cargoes of arms from England; while Malta became a centre of conspiracy against the kingdom of Naples, and Lord Palmerston assailed the king and his government in the most insulting language, and took care to publish his despatches, many of which were afterwards translated, reprinted, and distributed by the Revolutionists in Southern Italy.

At Naples Mr. Temple, the British ambassador, was absent, but he was represented by Lord Napier, a young charge d’affaires, who even went beyond Lord Minto in his patronage of Revolution. His house was the rendezvous of all the Revolutionary leaders in Naples: he received his information from them only; he studiously avoided the Royalists or Moderates, and allowed the most violent language against the king to be used in his presence. (*)

The Neapolitan Parliament was to meet on May 15th. It consisted of an Upper and a Lower House; and the king had gone so far in his wish to conciliate the Liberals as to allow them to nominate several of the peers. From the 1st to the 13th the deputies were arriving at Naples, many of them accompanied by parties of armed National Guards from their districts. It was evident that there was trouble in store for Naples. On the 14th eighty of the Liberal members met at the Palazzo Gravina, but before long all the more moderate men left the meeting in disgust. About forty remained, and they proceeded to formulate the demands of the Revolutionary party for the constitution of 1820 and a single Chamber. A deputation of the peers arrived at the Palazzo, pointed out that they were not yet constituted as a legislative assembly, and urged them to wait a few days, and make their proposals in parliament. The reply was a cry of, “You are peers—Down with the peerage!” The peers retired after vainly advising them to wait even till next day, when parliament would meet; and meanwhile the more moderate deputies assembled elsewhere, and assured the people of the king’s readiness to grant whatever was demanded by a duly constituted parliament.

No sooner had the peers left the Palazzo Gravina, than the Revolutionary leaders began to prepare for insurrection. It would seem that an international movement had been projected for next day; for the 15th witnessed outbreaks at Naples, Paris, and Vienna. The plan of the Neapolitan Revolutionists was not an original one; it was the same which had been adopted for the attack upon the Tuileries on August 10th, 1792. They were to muster their adherents, whom they had brought with them from the provinces, and, in concert with all the discontented spirits of the capital, besiege the king in his palace. During the night they worked hard, erecting barricades in all the streets leading to it. These defences were for the most part very badly constructed, except at two points, where the work was superintended by some Frenchmen, who were evidently no novices in the arts of Revolution. They placed mattresses on the balconies above the barricades, and posted some of their best shots behind them to fire down on the troops attacking the barriers below. Some of the National Guards joined them; others stood neutral, or acted for the king.

By nine o’clock on the morning of the 15th the palace was blockaded on every side but one, by which. the king could still communicate with the forts and the arsenal. The troops were drawn up on the quays and in front of the palace. Neapolitan officers of every rank, of every party, in actual service or on half pay, crowded to it and gathered round the king. Amongst them was General Florestan Pepe, the brother of the more famous William Pepe, who was now with the Neapolitan army of the North. Florestan, more loyal than his brother, had risen from a sick bed to hasten to the defence of his sovereign. There, too, were most of the foreign ambassadors. The king was pale: agitated, but not by fear, for there was no real danger.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “I did not expect this! I have not deserved this from my people! I have granted the constitution, and I intend faithfully to maintain it. I have granted everything. I have done everything to avoid bloodshed; and now they blockade me and my family in my own house.” To one of the generals he said in the hearing of the whole circle:—“Spare my misguided people. Make prisoners. Do not kill. Make prisoners.” Another officer came in to ask his authorization for the movement of some of the troops." I promise your majesty,” he said warmly, “that we shall soon reduce this canaille (canaglia) to reason.” “Be calm, sir,” replied Ferdinand, “and do not call the people canaille. They are Neapolitans — they are my countrymen and subjects. They are misguided by a few bad men, but they are still my people." And his last words to him, as he departed were:—“Take prisoners, but do not kill! There are many now in the streets who by to-morrow will repent of their error.” And this was the “bloodthirsty tyrant,” who was assailed with the most outrageous calumny by the Liberal press of Europe. ((*)

The firing began about noon and was begun by the insurgents. A column of Swiss and Neapolitans had halted before a barricade at the end of the Toledo. Some of the officers went forward to parley with the defenders. While they were speaking two shots were fired from behind it: one killed an officer, the other wounded a soldier. The men rushed forward, stormed the barricade in a minute, and then cleared the houses on either side of the street, from which the rebels were firing. In some places the people of the houses joined in the melde, and were shot down, but there was no massacre of old men, women, and children, as the disappointed Liberals alleged in their accounts of the affair. The badly constructed barricades elsewhere were stormed in rapid succession, the Revolutionists generally running into the houses as soon as the troops attempted to close with them. Some of the larger buildings were defended with desperate resolution. The hardest struggle of all was at the Palazzo Gravina, the centre of the insurrection. The troops could not penetrate into it, until they brought up artillery to blow in the gates, and fired the roof with rockets.

The killed on both sides were between four and five hundred. Half of these were Royalists, and not one of the insurgent leaders was killed or captured. There was, of course, some plundering in a fight carried on from house to house, but very little of it was done by the soldiers; it was the work of the Revolutionists, and of the crowds who came to the assistance of the troops. The commission of inquiry nominated by the Swiss Government, completely exonerated the Swiss Guard from any share in the pillage. Neither is it true that the French Admiral Baudin was so horrified at the carnage, that he threatened to land his marines and enforce a truce. He did something much more, practical and businesslike. No sooner had the firing ceased than he transmitted to the king an imperious message, ordering him to pay immediately the claims of any of his countrymen domiciled in Naples whose houses had been injured during the émeute. Some very extortionate demands were sent in after the message, and all of them were promptly paid.

On the suppression of the insurrection, the king dissolved his parliament. Another insurrection had broken out in Calabria; in Sicily the Neapolitans held only the citadel of Messina: a desperate attempt at revolution had just been suppressed in the capital itself. He required every man of his army in the south, and he therefore sent orders to General William Pepe to return from Bologna to the Neapolitan territory. There was a great outcry from the Liberals against Ferdinand for this abandonment of the war with Austria. They called him a traitor to the cause of Italy, but this was as false as the stories about the rising of May 15th. The real traitors to the cause of Italy were the Ultra-Liberals, who, by their acts on that day and their previous conduct at Palermo, forced the king to recall his troops.

An attempt was made at the same time to represent the Pope as the instigator of the retreat of the Neapolitans. In April the ministry had requested from Pius IX. an explicit declaration of his policy. Durando, on his own authority, had led the Papal army across the Po, and the popular leaders were calling on the Pope to declare war and support his generals, forgetful or careless of the fact that the Head of the Universal Church could not declare an aggressive war against his own spiritual subjects. There were some who even went so far as to say that he ought to support the arms of Italy by excommunicating her adversaries. The Pope had been exerting himself, in the only way which was open to him, to promote the cause of Italian freedom. Leaving to the temporal princes the military part of the question, he devoted himself to the civil organization of Italian Unity, by proposing a federative League of the Italian States. Naples sent her delegates to the Congress, which was to meet at Rome to decide upon the terms of the Federation. Tuscany was preparing to send her representatives. Piedmont alone stood in the way of the realization of the project, which would have united all Italy in the only way in which she ever can possess true unity; for the subjection of every state in the peninsula to Piedmont is not unity, but conquest maintained by the bayonet.

The Italian league would have been the means of forming an Italian army by contingents drawn from each of the states, and would thus have placed the whole force of the country in line against Austria. One obstacle only stood in the way of all this—the ambition of Piedmont, which has been the bane of Italy.

Charles Albert’s ministry sent word to Rome that they could not consider the question of the League till the war was over, and at the -same time an attempt was made to form a Council of War, consisting of representatives of the various states under the presidency of Charles Albert. The king was at that period negotiating the fusion of Lombardy and Venetia with Piedmont. Mazzini was opposing him, and telling him that his only hope of success was to declare war against all the other sovereigns of the Peninsula, and proclaim himself king of United Italy. If he would do this, Mazzini promised to rally round him all the revolutionary elements from Savoy to Sicily. In other words, he wished Charles Albert to adopt the policy since followed by his unworthy son, but with this difference, that Mazzini was not as base as Cavour, and, instead of undermining the thrones of his brother sovereigns, he would have him declare an open war against them. To his honour, Charles Albert refused, with the same prudence which prompted him later on to decline the crown of Sicily, when it was offered to his second son, the Duke of Genoa, by the envoys of the Sicilian Revolutionists, who arrived at Genoa on board of a British man-of-war.

In the consistory of April 29th, the Pope gave that clear exposition of his policy which his ministers had requested of him. He spoke of the reforms which he had effected, indignantly repudiated the assertion that he was a promoter of revolution, and finally pointed out that he could not adopt a policy of war against Austria. “Such a measure,” he said, “is altogether alien to our counsels, inasmuch as we, albeit unworthy, are upon earth the vice-gerent of Him who is the Author of Peace and the Lover of Charity, and conformably to the functions of our supreme apostolate, we reach to and embrace all kindreds, peoples, and nations, with equal solicitude of paternal affection.” What other policy could Pius IX. have adopted? As a member of the Italian League, he might indeed have sent the required contingent to take part in a war instituted by the other princes; but Piedmont would not allow the League to be formed, and in his individual capacity, Pius IX. would not and Could not declare war. There was really nothing new in the allocution; he only repeated what he had often said before regarding the proposals of the war party at Rome. ((*)

The withdrawal of the Neapolitan army has been popularly attributed to the effect of this allocution. We have already shown that the idea was a false one. The army returned to the south to restore order. Pepe made a vain attempt to prevent its retreat, and wished to march to Venice instead, but he could only induce 3000 volunteers to follow him. The rest of the army marched back through the Papal territory in perfect order, and the insurrection in Calabria was soon suppressed, for the people formed bands of volunteers to aid the troops in pursuing the insurgents.

The Pope, as representative of the God of Peace, had refused to draw the sword against Austria; but he did what was in his power, and consistent with his priestly office. He exerted his mediation on behalf of Italian nationality, and on the 3rd of May he wrote to the Emperor of Austria, urging him to make an honourable peace with the people of Lombardy and Venetia.

“Let it not be distasteful to your Majesty,” wrote Pius IX., “that we should appeal to your piety and devotion, and with paternal affection should exhort you to withdraw your arms from this contest, which, without any possibility of re-conquering to your empire the minds (esprits) of the Lombards and Venetians, draws with it the fatal train of calamities which always attend on war, calamities which you yourself must abhor. Let not the generous Austrian nation take it in ill part, if we invite them to lay resentment aside, and to convert into the beneficial relations of friendly neighbourhood a domination which can never be prosperous or noble, since it depends only on the sword. We trust then that a nation, so justly proud of its own nationality, will not think that its honour consists in sanguinary attempts against the Italian nation, but rather in generously acknowledging her for a sister, even as both are daughters to us and most dear to our hearts, each consenting to live within its own natural frontier an honourable life under the blessing of God.”

There is little doubt that, had this noble appeal on the part of Pius IX. been followed by an offer of peace on honourable terms by Charles Albert, important advantages would have been secured to Italy —probably the possession of Lombardy, or perhaps the formation of Lombardy and Venetia into an independent state. The Austrian government really desired an honourable peace. More than once they actually urged Radetzki to propose an armistice; but he knew the men he had to deal with, and, confident in his own talents, replied that he would yet bring the war to a successful issue. On the other hand, Charles Albert, pressed by the Revolution, which urged him onward like a flood, threatening to engulf him if he paused for a moment, felt that he dared not propose peace on any terms, until he had driven the Austrians over the Alps, while at the same time he saw the Mazzinians doing all they could to destroy the only weapon to which he could have trusted, by establishing a propaganda for the purpose of democratizing his army. From the Lombards he received but little help; the peasantry were either Austrian in feeling or indifferent, and the Milanese seemed to think that they had done enough by freeing their city, and gave themselves up to fetes, operas, and Republican demonstrations.

Thus, with doubtful friends in his rear, and determined foes before him, Charles Albert steadily pressed the siege of Peschiera. Towards the end of May the position of the garrison was almost desperate, and Radetzki resolved to make an effort to relieve them, by threatening the Piedmontese communications with Milan and Turin. Leaving 16,000 men to guard the entrenched camp at Verona, he marched to Mantua with the rest of his army—about 30,000 men. During this march, the Piedmontese army was upon his flank watching for an opportunity to attack, but he gave them none, for he had so formed the long Austrian column, that it was in effect a moving line of battle. On the 29th he stormed Curtatone, and marched on Goito. Its possession would have enabled him to cut off the Piedmontese from Milan. Charles Albert, leaving a portion of his army to continue the siege of Peschiera, hastened with the main body to the defence of Goito, and repulsed the Austrians in an action which lasted four hours, and in which he was slightly wounded. Radetzki fell back on Mantua, and Peschiera surrendered.

The exultation caused by the fall of Peschiera was increased by the report that the Austrian army was in full retreat from Mantua. Radetzki was indeed leaving the great fortress, but not retreating from the Piedmontese. He had resolved upon a daring enterprise, which was to redeem the fortunes of the war. His plan was to abandon his communications with the Tyrol, and recover those which lay through Venetia. General Zobel, ((*) who held the plateau of Rivoli, was ordered to make no serious resistance if he were attacked, as he could not repulse the Piedmontese unsupported by Radetzki. Then by a rapid march the old marshal re-crossed the Adige, fell suddenly upon the Papal army at Vicenza, stormed the Monte Berici, which commanded the town, and on June 11th granted a capitulation to Durando, by which he was to retire into the Papal territory. The Pontifical troops, especially the Switzers, had fought well and lost heavily. Massimo D’Azeglio was amongst the wounded. By this victory, 14,000 men were at one blow removed from the Italian army, and in a few days D’Aspre and Weldon had taken Treviso and Padua, and all the Venetian mainland was regained by Austria, the city of Venice being still held by the Revolutionists under Manin and Pepe.

On the very day of the assault on Vicenza, Zobel had been forced to retire from Rivoli by Charles Albert, and the king advanced against the camp before Verona. But he was too late. Ere he could reach it, Gyulai, who had led the stormers at Vicenza two days before, entered Verona with the Austrian vanguard, and the main body, under Radetzki, followed. Charles Albert withdrew without a battle, content with the possession of Rivoli, which, however, was of little value now, as Radetzki had recovered his communications with Austria through the Venetian territory.

After this, nothing of importance occurred until the next month. In the meantime, both armies were repairing their losses, and Radetzki’s was raised by fresh reinforcements to 60,000 men actually available for operations. Charles Albert could command an equal force, but his soldiers were very inferior to the tried veterans of Austria., To silence the Liberal press of Italy, which was crying out against his inaction, he very unwisely invested Mantua on July 13th. Radetzki saw his advantage, and resolved to attack the divided forces of the Piedmontese, and raise the siege of Mantua, masking his movement by an attempt against the plateau of Rivoli. On the 22nd the detachments directed against Rivoli were repulsed, but the Piedmontese commander, fearing that he could not resist a second attack, abandoned the plateau in the night, and fell back to Peschiera.

The same evening 40,000 Austrians, under Radetzki, crossed the Adige, and advanced against the Piedmontese left at Custozza, which was held by 12,000 men. At seven on the morning of the 23rd, he attacked the line of heights extending from the village to the Mincio, which formed the position of the Piedmontese, and before nightfall he had occupied the hills, and driven the enemy back upon the river. Charles Albert resolved to retrieve the defeat by a counter attack upon the Austrians. Massing his army about Villafranca, on the left rear of the Austrians, on the 24th he suddenly fell upon Radetzki’s left on the heights of Somma Campagna, where the Austrians were on the march, and expecting no attack. The Imperialists suffered a severe defeat, one brigade being cut off and driven back upon Verona. That evening the two armies faced each other on the heights above the Mincio, from Custozza to the Somma Campagna, for Radetzki rapidly concentrated towards his left, having determined upon fighting next day the battle which was to decide the fate of Lombardy.

The morning broke clear and sultry, and at eight the second battle of Custozza began by the advance of the Piedmontese. The fight lasted all day, and was nobly contested by both sides. On that of the Austrians, Radetzki rode deep into the fire, leading one of the attacks in person, and he was bravely seconded by DAspre, Gyulai, Lichtenstein, and Clam Gallas. On the other the king and his two sons displayed equal courage, but it was all in vain; towards evening the Piedmontese were driven from the heights back to the plain of Villafranca. There Charles Albert rallied the defeated army, and at midnight began his march to the bridge of Goito on the Mincio, in full retreat for Lombardy.

At dawn on the 26th, Radetzki was again in the saddle, directing his army in pursuit of the retreating Piedmontese. After a sharp action at Volta, Charles Albert abandoned the line of the Mincio, raising the siege of Mantua. The Austrians immediately crossed the river and invested Peschiera. On the 30th the Piedmontese crossed the Oglio, pursued by the Austrians. On the 31st they passed the Adda. Charles Albert had endeavoured to obtain an armistice with the Oglio as the line of demarcation between the two armies; but Radetzki now had the game in his hands, and offered to grant it only on condition of the Piedmontese retiring beyond the Adda, surrendering Peschiera, Pizzighitone and Rocco d’Aufo, and withdrawing their naval and military forces from Venice, Parma, and Modena. This Charles Albert refused, and from that time Radetzki would hear of no armistice, saying that he would only negotiate upon the Ticino when he had reconquered the Austrian territory.

During the retreat the volunteer battalions melted rapidly away, and even many of the Piedmontese fell out of their ranks, so that when he reached Milan, Charles Albert found his army seriously diminished. He had hoped to be able to defend the great city, and now he fought an action with the Austrian vanguard among the gardens and enclosures on the Lodi road.

But by the evening of August 4th, Radetzki had pushed close up to the gates. There were no means of defence; the weak barrier wall could be breached with field artillery. Ammunition was wanting both for the infantry and artillery, and therefore little dependence could be placed on the defence of the streets, though the Provisional Government had erected barricades and piled stones upon the housetops. In the night Charles Albert held a Council of War, and the unanimous decision was that, to save the army, Milan should be evacuated.

Mazzini, in concert with Fanti, had been trying for the last few days to organize a popular defence of the city, and great was the indignation of the Republican leaders when they heard that it was to be abandoned to its fate. Their fury soon communicated itself to the people. The Palazzo Greppi, where the king was staying, was surrounded by crowds, shouting “Death to the Piedmontese 1” and crying out for a defence of the barricades, and war to the knife against the Austrians. Shots were fired at the windows, and for some hours the life of the brave and generous but unfortunate king was momentarily threatened by the very men he had striven to aid. Such was the indignation of his troops, that it was all their officers could do to prevent them from falling on the people and clearing the streets with the bayonet.

At length, after nightfall, La Marmora and the Royal Guard marched to the palace, and brought away the king in safety, amid the execrations of the populace. Next morning, under the terms of a capitulation, the Piedmontese evacuated the city on one side, while the Austrians, led by D’Aspre’s division, entered it upon the other. “Soldiers,” said Radetzki, in his order of the day, “the imperial flag is again waving from the walls of Milan, and there is no longer an enemy on Lombard ground.”

Little more than four months before he had marched out of Milan, promising “to return to victory,” and he had kept his word—kept it, too, while his own capital was in the hands of the Revolution, and it might be said that the Austrian power existed only in his army. Surrounded by open foes and doubtful friends, he had held his own upon the Adige, confident of his ultimate success alike in defeat and victory, until at length he felt himself strong enough to act; and then he had unfurled again the banner of the double-headed eagle, and Vicenza and Custozza proved that “her strength of wing was unimpaired.” Well may Austria cherish with pride the memory of Radetzki.

There are few nobler names in the military history of our warlike nineteenth century. Well might his soldiers call him their father, for he never led them but to honour; and during the campaign, when scarce a florin could be spared from the military chest, he found means to send money to the Austrian prisoners at Genoa, to buy wine and tobacco, and to add to their prison fare. He was as merciful in victory as he was determined in battle; and, notwithstanding the calumnies of the Liberal press of Italy, his name as a soldier goes down to future history without a stain. This men must acknowledge, whatever they may think of the cause for which he fought.

The day after the occupation of Milan, Radetzki granted Charles Albert a preliminary armistice of three days. On the 9th, a further armistice of six weeks was concluded at the Austrian head-quarters, with a view to negotiate for peace. The armistice might be extended by mutual agreement; the Ticino was to be the line of demarcation between the two armies; the Piedmontese were to surrender Peschiera, Rocca d’Aufo, Osopo and Brescia, and withdraw their troops and fleet from Venice.

Though the armistice was concluded, peace was not restored to Lombardy. When Milan surrendered, Mazzini left it for Bergamo, where Garibaldi had collected 4000 volunteers. The war of kings was over, he said, and the war of the people was to begin. In the short campaign which followed, Mazzini was Garibaldi’s standard-bearer. The flag was that of the Giovine Italia—the tricolor with the legend Dio ed il Popolo. Peschiera and Rocca d’Aufo surrendered, but the commandant of Osopo refused to lay down his arms, and held out until the 14th of October. Meanwhile Garibaldi had miserably failed. When the news of the armistice reached his camp on the banks of the Lago Maggiore, and the Austrians were approaching, his corps melted away so rapidly that it was soon reduced to eight hundred. He fell back on San Fermo, and there harangued his red-shirts, in the hope of raising their courage. But it was of no avail; three hundred and fifty more had gone before nightfall. ((*) Medici was sent to collect some of the fugitives, and brought back three hundred with him. Then, on August 12th, Garibaldi published a proclamation, calling Charles Albert a traitor, and declaring a war of the people against Austria. He seized two steamers on the Lago Maggiore, and defeated an Austrian detachment; but pursued by D’Aspre’s division, and cut off from Piedmont, he retreated into Switzerland.

Venice had just acknowledged the sovereignty of Charles Albert; but when the news of the armistice arrived, and the Piedmontese forces withdrew, Manin again proclaimed the Republic. Parma and Modena were occupied by the Austrian divisions of Lichtenstein and Thurn, in the name of the dukes. At the same time, General Weldon’s division entered the Papal states; but Pius IX. protested against this violation of his territory, declaring that he would meet force with force if the Austrians did not withdraw. Nevertheless, Weldon made an attempt to occupy Bologna, but was repulsed by the people. The papal troops received orders to march into the Romagna; but upon this the Austrians retired, as Radetzki had no desire to bring fresh enemies into the field, and to light up the smouldering fires of war. The only result of the invasion was to increase the agitation and disorder already existing in the Romagna, where bands of brigands and revolutionists, recruited from the disbanded soldiers of the shattered armies of the north, wandered over the country, murdering the government officials and plundering on all sides. Among their chiefs was Zambianchi, one of the exiled insurgents of 1832, who had returned to Italy under the amnesty. The working of the secret societies and the effects of the war had reduced the country to a state of anarchy. When Farini was at Bologna in September, 1848, bands of armed ruffians were murdering their enemies in the streets.

What Bologna was to the Papal States, Leghorn was to the Grand-Duchy of Tuscany. The organization of the secret societies spread rapidly among its population, which, gathered from all parts of Italy, contained the very elements of disorder. Guerazzi, the friend of Mazzini, was the guiding spirit of this motley mass. There, too, was Gavazzi, returned from the camp of Durando, and now preaching war against the priests, princes, and property. On the second of September Guerazzi succeeded in revolutionizing the city, driving out the Tuscan troops and establishing a Liberal municipality, which made Leghorn virtually an independent republic, and the base of operations from which the Revolution subsequently spread to Florence.

In the south, General Filangieri with a Neapolitan army obtained possession of Messina after a sanguinary struggle in the streets, and raised the siege of the -citadel. He might have marched at once upon Palermo, but French and English intervention barred the way. Admiral Baudin and Sir William Parker combined to force Filangieri to conclude a suspension of hostilities; and so the Provisional Government of Palermo was able, under the protection of France and England, to continue its preparations for the war against Naples. They bought steamers and guns in England, and some of the latter, it is said, came from the government stores. They raised forced loans in Sicily, and negotiated a loan abroad on the security of the municipal revenues. They assembled a Revolutionary army, and found French, English, and Polish officers to drill it. But when Messina fell they had not effected much in the way of preparation, and, had Filangieri been allowed to advance then, he would have taken Palermo with but little difficulty, and there would have been an end of the war. As it was, the only effect of the intervention was to prolong it till next year, and increase the loss of life and property in Sicily.

In Piedmont itself there was no peace. In the parliament the Liberals were masters of the situation; in the cities the friends of the secret societies were carrying on a perpetual agitation, and all were uniting to drive Charles Albert into a renewal of the war with Austria. They violently inveighed against the idea of peace, and rendered negotiation utterly impossible. Forced on to his fate, he quietly set to work to re-organize his defeated army, and prepared with courage for the worst.

Thus the armistice was far from restoring peace to Italy. It was nothing but a stormy truce, a respite of which the Revolution took advantage to plant its standard in the capital of Christendom, hoping thus to find in Central Italy the base of operations, which it had lost in the North.

§ 4. The Revolution at Rome

On the 5th of June the Roman parliament was opened by Cardinal Altieri in the name of Pius IX. The speech from the throne expressed the satisfaction which his Holiness felt at the accomplishment of the reforms already effected in his states, directed the attention of the deputies to the subjects which would be proposed for their consideration, and prayed for God’s blessing upon their labours.

The parliament contained in its ranks the elements of a strong anti-government party, not in the English sense, but in that in which it is understood in continental politics, where the party opposing the government does not wish merely to bring about a change in the administration as with us, but desires to accomplish a revolution. We are quite willing to believe that Mamiani, who was then at the head of the ministry (which had succeeded that of Antonelli after the crisis produced by the allocution of April 29th), was at the time loyal to his sovereign and anxious to serve him, but with this condition—if he could only serve the party of the Moderates at the same time. He was a Liberal in the first place, a servant of Pius IX. in the second. But there were other men in the Chamber who were openly opposed to the Pontifical government, and in relation with the Revolutionary organizations of Central Italy. Chief amongst these were Sterbini, the editor of an Ultra-Liberal Roman paper, Il Contemporaneo, and Lucien Bonaparte, Prince of Canino, who rewarded the hospitality of the Popes to himself and his family by plotting against them, and more than once in the parliament spoke in most disrespectful terms of Pius IX., and assailed Charles Albert. Unfortunately the parliament did very little work, but there was more than enough of pompous harangues and animated and lengthy debates, or angry discussions, sometimes on subjects of very little importance to the Roman States.

“The deputies,” says Farini, himself a member of the parliament and an under secretary in the Mamiani ministry—“the deputies in their discussions and resolutions had resigned themselves too much to craving after ideal good, and had too little pursued the counsels of reason in respect of good attainable; such were the incentives to big and inflated language that worked from without, and such the uproar created within by Canino and Sterbini. Had those persons been allowed to say and do as they liked, no one can tell with what whimsicalities they would have flavoured their speeches: Canino wanted to have it declared that all rights proceeded from the people; Sterbini wished the King of Naples to be mauled; both the one and the other desired the independence of Sicily to be acknowledged. They scolded Orioli as an untimely prophet of woe, and in vain he counselled moderation, hinted at the surmises of disagreement between the sovereign and the ministry, at the fear of aggravating distempered humours by heated language, and at the danger of pleading on the side of war now that the Pope had formally declared his disapproval.” ((*)

When men like these led the opposition in the Chambers, it is easy to imagine what was the tone of their supporters in the press and in the streets. Sterbini’s Contemporaneo was a type of the former. Ciceruacchio of the latter. The centre of the Revolutionary organization in Rome was a club known as the Circolo del Popolo. Other clubs modelled upon it were formed in the provinces, and had at their command the volunteers disbanded after the capitulation of Vicenza, whom they were re-organizing, and keeping together for the Revolutionary campaign of Central Italy.

Signor Pellegrino Rossi, the ambassador of Louis Philippe to the Pope, and one of the greatest friends of Pius IX., had remained in Rome in his private capacity when the new French Republic withdrew his credentials and sent M. D’Harcourt to worthily represent France at the Papal Court. As a lover of Italy, who had sent his son to aid in fighting her battles in the north, and who since 1846 had aided and supported the Pope in his policy of reform, it was hoped that Rossi would be able to gather round him men of all parties who wished well to their country, excepting, of course, the irreconcilables of the Ultra-Liberal and Republican parties. In July, at the request of the Pope, he endeavoured to form a ministry to supersede that of Mamiani, in whom Pius IX. could have no real confidence. In this first attempt he failed, but the mere report of Rossi’s probable advent to power was enough to infuriate the party of Sterbini and the Prince of Canino, who knew that he was a brave determined man, well fitted to curb their revolutionary projects, while preserving and consolidating the reforms already effected. Sterbini declared in public that “if Rossi, the ex-minister of Louis Philippe and the friend of Guizot, appeared in Parliament as minister of the Pope, he would be stoned.” Similar language was heard at the clubs and in the streets, and when it became known that Mamiani was to remain in office, there was a noisy demonstration before his house, the cheers for him alternating with outcries against the priests.

The agitation at Rome was at its height when General Weldon made his ill-advised incursion into the Romagna; and on the 19th of July a series of events occurred, which showed plainly that the men of the clubs were plotting a revolution. A petition was presented to the parliament, requesting that the country should be declared in danger, and the people armed. The petition was being referred to the ordinary committee, when the Prince of Canino rose, and in a violent harangue demanded that it should be considered immediately. While he was speaking, a mob rushed into the lobbies and galleries of the house, crying out for arms. The sitting was suspended until the tumult subsided; then it was resumed, and the Prince of Canino went on with his speech. Sterbini followed with another like it. Then it was announced that the Civic Guard were attempting to occupy the castle of St. Angelo and the gates of the city, but that the government had taken measures to secure order. Galetti, Mamiani’s Minister of Police, was sent for. On his arrival he said that there was no danger, the Civic Guard was “the palladium of liberty,” and would do nothing wrong; and that though he knew the crowd was coming to the parliament to enforce the petition, he had made no effort to prevent them, as he considered they had a right to adopt such a course of action. Farini rose to demand of Galetti an explanation of this singular speech, but he was repeatedly interrupted by Sterbini and his followers, and by the shouts of the mob in the galleries; and from that day it was a common thing for a speaker who was opposed either to Sterbini or Canino, or not willing to go as far as they did, to be hooted and silenced by the crowd that thronged the galleries. It was a repetition of the scenes in the Assembly of Paris under the First Republic. The freedom of the Roman parliament was being destroyed by the Revolutionists.

On the 3rd of August the Mamiani ministry resigned. It had effected absolutely nothing; one single law had been promulgated, and this was not for any practical purpose, but to confer the right of Roman citizenship on the Swiss troops who had fought so well at Vicenza. A new ministry was formed by Count Odoardo Fabbri. It was chiefly engaged upon the events arising out of Weldon’s invasion of the Romagna; but in the internal affairs of the Papal States it accomplished even less than that of Mamiani; and on the 16th of the following month the Fabbri ministry resigned.

The Pope now turned to Rossi. Ever devoted to Pius IX., he accepted at his invitation the task of forming a ministry, and undertaking the administration of the States, though he knew it was a work of danger and difficulty; for under the weak rule of the ministries of Mamiani and Fabbri the Revolutionary party had made great progress in Rome, and the words of Sterbini in July were enough to tell him that it hated him to the death—And why? Because he was faithful above all things to the Pope-King, determined before all things to sustain the freedom and authority of the Pontifical government, while he was resolved to continue and develop the policy of reform already adopted. In this celebrated ministry Rossi held the post of Minister of the Interior, and provisionally of Finance. Cardinal Soglia was Minister of Foreign Affairs and President of the Council; Cicognani, Minister of Grace and Justice; Cardinal Vizzardelli, of Education; Montanari, of Commerce; the Duke Di Rignano, of War and Public Works; Count Guerrini, Minister without a portfolio; and the Chevalier Righetti, Deputy Minister of Finance. All were men on whose support for his policy Rossi could place perfect reliance, and some of them had already distinguished themselves in parliament by their opposition to Mamiani.

Rossi’s first care was the finances; his next was the reorganization of the army. General Zucchi, a soldier of 1831, whose Carbonarism had since moderated, was invited to take command, and to accept the Ministry of War held provisionally by the Duke di Rignano. Medals were distributed to those who had distinguished themselves in the late war, and funds were allotted to provide succour for the wounded, and aid for the families of the dead. Railways had already been planned for the Papal States, and it was now decided to connect Civita Vecchia, Rome, Ancona, Bologna, and Ferrara by a telegraph line.

Still more important events followed. Piedmont, under the ministry of Casati and Gioberti, resumed the idea of a Federative Italian league, originally proposed by Pius IX., and rejected by the Piedmontese during the war. The illustrious Abbe Rosmini was sent to represent Charles Albert, and to confer on the subject at Rome. Tuscany entered heartily into the negotiations. Naples was willing to follow; and Rosmini, Rossi, and Pius IX. succeeded in carefully elaborating the draft constitution of the proposed League. The Confederation was to include the Papal States, the Kingdom of Sardinia, and the Grand-Duchy of Tuscany; but there was no doubt that Naples would join it also. Pius IX., as “the mediator and initiator of the League,” was to be its president, and the office was to descend to his successors. The Central Power was to be in the hands of a diet meeting at Rome, all the other states of Italy were invited to join, and the treaty, so far as it regarded Rome, Tuscany, and Sardinia, was to be ratified in a month. This document is of such importance, as a monument of the labours of Pius

IX. to give true unity to Italy, that we subjoin it in extenso in another part of the present work. ((*)

Unfortunately the ratification never came, and. again it was Piedmont which destroyed the hope of unity. The ministry of Casati was defeated by the Radicals in the Chamber, and a new ministry took its place, opposed or indifferent to the idea of the League, and wishing duly to conclude a simple treaty of alliance with Rome. Rosmini regarded a mere alliance as a poor substitute for a firmly consolidated League; he was therefore forced to resign his mission,, and De Ferran was sent to take his place. Pius IX. and his minister, Rossi, were unwilling to let the project again fall to the ground, and they drew up a modified draft of the treaty for the Federative League, ((+) based upon the same principles as that concluded with Rosmini. But again the Piedmontese ministry declined to accept it, and, to cover the refusal, reports were circulated at Turin that the failure of the negotiations had been caused by the hesitation of the court of Rome. Rossi published a complete refutation of the charge in the Roman Gazette, in which he showed how the Pope had been the initiator, and from the first the promoter of the League, and how Piedmont, disappointed that Rome was not following her instead of-being her leader, had from the first been the one obstacle to its accomplishment. So ended the negotiations. Gioberti then attempted to initiate a federation under the presidency of Piedmont, and a conference was invited to meet at Turin to discuss the subject. It was composed of men from all parts of Italy, who received their credentials, not from the governments, but from themselves or from the clubs. Rome was represented by Mamiani, Sterbini, and the Prince of Canino. This is enough to indicate the charactei' of the congress, which effected nothing, unless, indeed, to bring a number of the revolutionary leaders together to discuss their plans for the future.

Meanwhile the Rossi ministry was busily engaged with the internal affairs of the States. The finances were being brought into order, the national credit was rapidly reviving, important public works were being planned, Zucchi was reorganizing the army. His acts proved that he was now perfectly loyal to his sovereign. Garibaldi had marched into the Romagna at the head of a body of volunteers, Gavazzi going before him to prepare the way for a Revolution. Zucchi hastened to Bologna. He had Garibaldi’s band escorted out of the Romagna, the revolutionary leader making no resistance, but obeying the orders given to him. He then disarmed all who were not actually enrolled in the Civic Guard, arrested Gavazzi as a disturber of public order, and sent him to Rome.

The 15th of November was the day appointed for 18 the re-opening of the Roman parliament, and everyone feared an outbreak of the Revolutionists that day. The abuse of Rossi by the Ultra-Liberal press and by public speakers had gone on increasing from day to day. On the morning of the 15th the Contemporaneo, the organ of Sterbini, published a violent article against him, which contained words of fatal significance. In the face of facts and common sense, it charged Rossi with being the tool of Metternich, and plotting a reaction at Rome; and then went on to say, “He will fall amidst the laughter and contempt of the people; but after having called him the betrayer* of the cause of Italy, this does not absolve us from calling him the betrayer of the sovereign who has raised him to his place.”

Add to this that Rossi received several letters threatening him with death, others from friends warning him that there was a plot against his life. One of the latter was handed to him on his way to the Quirinal on the morning of the 15th. He read it, and afterwards showed it to the Pope, who advised him not to go that day to the Palace of the Cancellaria, where the parliament was sitting. Rossi replied, that when he accepted office he accepted it with its dangers, which he foresaw, and that he did not wish to be absent from his post. He then went to his carriage, accompanied by Righetti, one of his colleagues, taking with him the speech which he had written in concert with Pius IX., and in which he spoke of his projects for securing the prosperity of Rome and of Italy. He drove into the courtyard of the Cancellaria a little after noon.

Some of the deputies had already assembled in the hall; the galleries were crowded. There was another crowd in the courtyard, where a battalion of the Civic Guard was under arms. There, too, were several of the volunteers, disbanded after Vicenza, wearing their uniforms and medals, with daggers in their belts. As soon as Rossi’s carriage was recognized there was a howl from the crowd. Without taking any notice of it he alighted from the carriage, and, followed by Righetti, walked quickly towards the steps leading to the hall. The crowd rushed forward, and in an instant he was surrounded by a mob, yelling and howling at him. This had lasted scarce a minute, when one of his assailants drew a dagger and plunged it into his throat. Rossi fell, the blood spurting up from his neck. The crowd began to disperse. “So fare the betrayers of the people I” cried one of the leaders. The Civic Guard quietly looked on, and it was all that Righetti could do to get assistance to carry Rossi into one of the rooms of the palace, where in a few minutes he expired.

The news of the murder was known immediately in the Chamber, for three of the members, who were surgeons, were hastily called out to try and save the life of the dying man. The President, unmoved, continued reading the minutes of the last meeting.

No notice was taken of the awful deed that had just been done, though the corpse of the murdered minister was lying under the same roof beneath which the deputies were sitting. Some of the members spoke together in low tones; it was suggested that the session should be adjourned, but the idea was not acted upon. “Why all this fuss?” exclaimed the Prince of Canino; “one would think he was King of Rome.” “Not one voice was raised,” says Farini, “to protest against this enormous crime! Was this fear? Some have thought to term it prudence: by foreign nations it is called disgrace.” And disgrace it was, deep and indelible; but more disgraceful still was it that all over Italy men were found to laud the act; and worst of all were the scenes of the ensuing night, and of the following day. ((*)

When Pius IX. heard of the murder of Rossi, he bade Montanari, the Minister of Commerce, assume for the time the direction of the government, and sent for Minghetti and Pasolini to form a new administration. The ministers met to deliberate at the house of Montanari, but they were in no condition to decide on the means to be adopted for securing the peace of the city. Some, friends of Rossi, were overwhelmed with grief, others were terrified at his fate, which might be their own: all were bewildered. They sent for Colonel Calderari, the commander of the Roman Carbinieri. He reported that the city was quiet, but that there were no means of discovering the assassin. He was ordered to arrest several of the leading agitators, and some men who were known to be accomplices in the murder. He hesitated, and made excuses, but finally said he would execute his orders, and went away to break his word and join the Revolutionists. At the same time the Pope sent a message to Bologna, telling Zucchi to return immediately to Rome, and until his arrival, Colonel Lentulus, a Swiss officer, was placed in command of the city.

Night had now closed in, and the Revolutionists were preparing for the morrow. Agents despatched from the head-quarters at the Circolo del Popolo, went to the barracks of the Carbineers, and read a proclamation, inviting them to join the people. The men were hesitating, when Colonel Calderari appeared among them, and said that he would fraternize with the people, and that the best course for all the soldiers would be to act with the Civic Guard and the populace.

In the Corso another scene was passing. Down the street marched a procession' bearing aloft the Italian tricolour, surrounded by torches. Soldiers, Civic Guards, and well-known agitators, mingled in its ranks. Amongst them walked the murderer of Rossi, and, as they went, they yelled out a horrible ode, which invoked blessings on the head of the assassin, and praised God that Rossi was in hell At times the procession turned from the Corso to traverse the neighbouring streets, and once it swept past the house of mourning, where the victim of the Revolutionary dagger lay in the midst of his sorrowing family and friends.

Early on the 16th the Pope sent for the President of the Parliament and the Senator di Rome to hold a consultation with them. Crowds were gathering in the Piazza del Popolo; by half-past ten full 20,000 men were there—soldiers, Civic Guards, and civilians, most of them armed. The leaders distributed among them printed papers setting forth their demands. These were, promulgation of Italian nationality, and realization of the Federal pact, war against Austria, and the constitution of a Radical ministry, including, amongst others, Mamiani, Sterbini, and Galetti, the Minister of Police, who had refused to protect the freedom of the parliament when the chamber was invaded by the mob in the previous July.

The crowd went first to the Cancellaria, where a few of the members left the parliament to act as their deputies in presenting their demands to the

Pope. They then began to pour towards the Quirinal. On the way they were joined by Galetti. At one o’clock they arrived before the palace. No preparations for defence had been made. There was the usual Swiss Guard of about eighty men, and a single sentinel stood at the gate. Galetti, Sterbini, and a few of their companions, went in. They were received by Cardinal Soglia, who told them that the Pope would consider the demands made by the people. This answer was communicated to the crowd, and received with loud murmurs of dissatisfaction. Then Galetti asked to see the Pope himself. The request was granted. Pius IX. listened calmly to the deputation, but remembering what was due to his own dignity, he firmly refused to yield to force, saying “that he would not brook dictation,” and that he should be allowed to deliberate in entire freedom.

It was now two o’clock. Galetti appeared on one of the balconies of the palace. The crowd pressed forward to hear him, probably expecting that he came to tell them that they had conquered their sovereign, but he could only repeat the answer he had received from the Pope. Then the mask was cast aside, and the crowd broke out into open insurrection. The cry is raised, “To arms I to arms!” The mob rushes towards the gates. The solitary Swiss sentinel is seized and disarmed, but his comrades inside fling back and bar the gates, and stand to their arms, ready to fire upon the insurgents. The drums of the Civic Guard are beating through the city. Men come hurrying up with ladders to scale the walls, and faggots to burn the gates. Carts are drawn up; from behind them soldiers and guardsmen fire at the windows of the Quirinal; from the gateway and the bastion near it the Switzers reply. Men climb up behind the two equestrian statues before the palace, and, crouching on the pedestals, level their muskets and join in the fusillade; others fire down from the neighbouring belfry of San Carlino.

Suddenly a column of carbineers, headed by Colonel Calderari, marches into the Piazza. For a moment the crowd wavers, but a few words from the traitor re-assures them. He has come, not to relieve the palace, but to join in the attack, and his men wheel into line, and send a volley of bullets rattling against the walls and crashing through the windows.

Within the palace, Pius IX. stands calm and undaunted. He is surrounded by his household and the diplomatic corps, amongst them D’Harcourt, the Minister of France; Spaur, of Bavaria; and Della Rosa, of Spain, worthy representatives of three Catholic nations. The captain of the guard comes in, and tells him his faithful Switzers will die to a man, before they allow the palace to be forced. Bullets fall and flatten on the floor, and about four o’clock Mgr. Palma, the private secretary to His Holiness, drops dead, shot in the forehead. Messengers sent out for aid, returning, repoi-t that nothing oan be done; but the Swiss hold true, and the mob has failed to penetrate the palace.

The sovereign people is now becoming impatient. The palace must be forced, cost what it will, and artillery is sent for. Presently two six-pounders come rumbling up, and are unlimbered, pointed against the gates, and loaded. The firing stops: a deputation goes forward to ask admittance to parley with the Pope: again it is granted. They bring the ultimatum of the Roman people—Pius IX. is to be given one hour to re-consider his decision; if he does not then yield, they will blow in the gates, and massacre every one in the palace except the Pope himself. Pius IX. turns to the foreign ministers. “Look,” he says, “where we stand. There is no hope of resistance. Already a prelate is slain in my very palace; shots are aimed at it; artillery levelled; we are pressed and besieged by the insurgents. To avoid fruitless bloodshed and increased enormities, we give way; but, as you see, gentlemen, it is only to force. So we protest. Let the courts, your governments, know it; we give way to violence only; all we concede is invalid, null, and void.” Then Cardinal Soglia was told to confer with Galetti on the formation of a Radical ministry.

Thus did the Liberals of Rome testify their gratitude to a sovereign, “whose political life,” to use the words of Montalembert, “was summed up in two words—amnesty and reform,” a sovereign who was, and is, the best and truest friend Italy has ever known.

Galetti soon formed his ministry. He himself was Minister of the Interior; Mamiani, of Foreign Affairs; Sterbini, of Commerce and Public Works; Campello, of War; Lunati, of Finance. The name of Rosmini, who had remained in Rome, and had been raised to the purple by Pius IX., was also placed on the list, but he refused the nomination in a short, indignant speech. The names were announced to the crowd, and they began to disperse, shouting, singing, firing their muskets in the air, and cheering for the Radical ministry. Then came a sight seldom seen in Southern Europe. As the night deepened, the red streamers of the northern lights lit up the sky; to many it seemed a visible sign of the anger of an offended heaven.

The Revolution was now master of Rome. The Pope was a prisoner at the Quirinal, where the Civic Guard had taken the place of the Swiss. The Chamber was overawed by the crowd in the galleries. Sterbini, Galetti, and the Circolo del Popolo ruled the Eternal City, yet the government was carried on in the name of Pius IX Rome was no longer a place for him. He began to think of flight, but hesitated, still reluctant to leave the city and the people he loved so well. While he was deliberating, the Bishop of Avignon sent him the silver pyx, in which

Pius VI. had carried the Blessed Sacrament with him when he was hurried away from Rome by the agents of the French Republic. Then Pius IX. decided on making an. effort to regain his freedom.

Della Rosa offered him the hospitality of Spain. He accepted it, but the steamer which was to convey him did not reach Civita Vecchia in time. Delay was dangerous, and he then resolved to go to Gaeta. Fully fifty individuals, lay and ecclesiastic, were engaged in the plot for securing his safe departure from Rome. On the evening of the 24th, M. D’Harcourt came to the Quirinal, leaving his carriage in the court; he had an interview with Pius IX., and bade him farewell. Then the Pope, having put on the dress of a simple priest, escorted by the Chevalier Fillipani, passed through several of the private apartments, and by an unguarded staircase descended to the court, where a carriage was in waiting. They drove to the monastery of SS. Marcellino e Pietro, where Count Spaur, the Bavarian ambassador, was waiting with another carriage. Beyond the gates— at the Gallerie di Castel Gandolfo—the countess, her son, and a Bavarian priest, were waiting with the post-chaise for the long journey to the frontier. The Pope, in the ambassador’s carriage, drove by the Gate of San Giovanni to the appointed rendezvous. There the little luggage which he carried was transferred to the post-chaise; he stepped in, Count Spaur mounted on the coach-box, and then they drove southward through the darkness, and daybreak saw them at Fondi. There was no pursuit. Rome still thought her captive sovereign was sleeping in the Quirinal. At Fondi there was a rest of a few hours, and then the journey was continued to Gaeta, where the next day King Ferdinand and his queen arrived to welcome the Pope to their dominions, and to offer to him and his court that generous hospitality which won for them the gratitude of the Christian world.

When the news of the Pope’s flight became known in Europe, men asserted, as loudly as they assert today, that the Temporal Sovereignty was at an end for ever. The Revolution celebrated its victory with a transport of delight. The Rome of the Popes was over; the Rome of the people was now to begin. In the eyes of the Mazzinians, the defeats on the Mincio were more than redeemed. They could hoist their flag on the capitol. They had lost Milan and Lombardy, but Rome and Central Italy were theirs instead.

Such was the Italian Revolution of 1848. What wonder that it failed? What wonder that the insensate policy of the Revolutionists brought down ruin upon their own heads? At the moment when Italy should have been united, she was hopelessly divided. In the north, Piedmont had refused to send her delegates to the diet of the Italian League; in the south, Sicily declared war against Naples. Foul crime and black ingratitude stain with indelible infamy the story of that year of Revolution. The Liberals murdered alike the foes and friends of Italy —Marinovich, at Venice: Rossi, at Rome—the murder of the former they pronounced a judgment of God, while the death of the latter was celebrated by the maddened crowds that sang the praise of "the third Brutus,” in the streets of the Eternal City.

Three scenes, alike but different, prove the ingratitude of the Revolutionists to the best friends of their country—Ferdinand of Naples, beleagured in his own house by the banded rabble of Southern Italy; Charles Albert, assailed in the palace of Milan, and carried off by his guards under the cover of darkness, amid the clash of alarm-bells, pealing out the tocsin, and the reports of shots aimed at him and his sons, and the outcries of the populace; finally, Pius IX. besieged in the Quirinal by the people on whom he had lavished every favour, his secretary shot down, his own life endangered, and his friends, and the faithful Switzers who guarded him, threatened with massacre. While the demagogues and bravoes of 1848 ruled the destinies of Italy, what had she to expect but misery? what had they to expect but defeat? And it came, swift, sure, and terrible,

CHAPTER VII

DEFEAT

§ 1. Novara 1849

The storm broke first upon Piedmont. “War against Austria! War for our brothers of Lombardy!” Such was the cry of the agitators, who regarded the armistice as a treason which had saved Radetzki from annihilation. The Piedmontese themselves were little inclined towards war. They had had enough of it. They had borne the brunt of the battle—for the Lombards had done little for the cause that was their own—and they had seen their sovereign insulted by the people of Milan. But the cry for war was raised by the thousands of exiles who had poured into Piedmont from Lombardy and Venetia, from Naples, and from foreign countries, many of them Revolutionists by profession, men who never breathed freely except in the midst of a tempest of agitation and revolution.

The news from Central Italy increased the excitement. Gioberti, then at the head of the ministry, endeavoured to allay it. In the Republicanism of Rome and Florence he saw nothing but danger. He proposed to march a Piedmontese force into Central Italy to restore the authority of the Grand Duke of Tuscany and the Pope. The report that such a project was on foot led to the downfall of his ministry. He was accused of having deserted an Italian for an Austrian policy, and at the end of February a new ministry was constituted, under the presidency of General Chiodo, who had the support of all the Radical element in the Chambers, and of the war party outside them. The committee organized by the exiles at Turin, promised a rising from the Ticino to the Adriatic as soon as war was declared. All Central Italy, it was added, would rush to arms, and Baron Spleny, the envoy of Kossuth, at Turin, spread exaggerated reports of the successes of the revolted Hungarians. It was said that they had recaptured Pesth, that the Hungarian regiments in the army of Radetzki sympathized with them, and would join the Italians when they crossed the Ticino, and all this was eagerly caught up and implicitly believed among the excited crowds collected at Turin.

During the winter, Charles Albert had re-organized his army with the help of General Chrzanowski, a Polish officer who had fought under the first Napoleon, and subsequently in the wars of his own country, in which he had acquired a military reputation, counterbalanced, however, by serious imputations of treachery. Charles Albert would far rather have entrusted his army to Bava or La Marmora, but the Liberals stigmatized the tried generals of Piedmont as aristocrats, and the Liberals being now the rulers of the country, it would be dangerous to oppose them. Before Chrzanowski accepted the command,.it had been offered to several French generals. Bedeau, La Moriciere, Changarnier, and Bugeaud had all declined it. The army which was available for active operations consisted of about 85,000 men, organized in eight divisions, commanded by Durando—who had left the Papal army after Vicenza—Bes, Perrone, Ramorino, of Savoyard renown, La Marmora, Solaroli, and the king’s two sons, the Dukes of Savoy and Genoa. The Piedmontese element in the army was strongly opposed to a renewal of the war, and looked forward to it with the most dismal forebodings; but the Lombards, the Poles, the revolutionary element generally, were all full of the most eager anticipations of battle and victory.

F.n con raged, therefore, by the reported success of the Hungarians, and the probable insurrection in Lombardy, the Radicals in the Chamber early [in March demanded an immediate declaration of war. An address to that effect was voted and presented to the king on March 5th; it was supported by another from the Lombard committee. The foreign ambassadors exerted their influence in favour of peace, but Charles Albert told them plainly he had no choice. If he hesitated to go to war, the Republic would be proclaimed at Turin. On the 10th the ministers asked the Chambers to vote the supplies necessary for the war, and on the 12th, Major Cadorna arrived at Milan to present to Marshal Radetzki formal notice that the armistice would end at noon on the 20th, while the message alleged that it had already been violated in various ways by the Austrians, and that it was only the king’s sense of honour which prompted him to give notice at all before setting his troops in motion. On both sides stirring proclamations announced to the Austrian and Italian armies the recommencement of hostilities. At Milan the Austrian soldiers received the tidings with the wildest joy. “Have you heard the news?” they exclaimed to one another in the streets. “God be praised—the armistice is at an end!”

Chrzanowski’s plan was founded on the hope of an insurrection in Lombardy. He assembled the mass of his army about Novara, intending to cross the Ticino at San Martino, and, with the aid of an insurrection like that of the preceding year, to drive Radetzki from Milan; indeed, he was confident that as soon as he advanced the Austrians would retire to the Mincio, as they had done twelve months before. Ramorino, who was with a division of 6000 Lombards on the south bank of the Po, was to cross to La Cava and watch the bridges of Pavia, as it was feared the Austrians might cross there, though the general belief was that they would not attempt an aggressive movement. At the same time, General La Marmora, with 7000 men, was to invade the duchies, where he was to be joined by the forces of the Revolutionists of Central Italy; but so precipitately had war been declared, that these forces were not even enrolled.

On the 17th, the movement of the Austrians began. Radetzki could not, of course, cross the Ticino till noon on the 20th, but he took advantage of the interval to concentrate his army for the passage of the river. In concert with General Hess, his chief of the staff, he had drawn up a plan for the campaign, on which he confidently relied for victory. It was kept secret from all except the officers on the head-quarters staff, and even from them the details were concealed, but Hess informed them of the general direction of the movement, when he told them on the 18th that the Piedmontese would be forced to give battle, probably at Novara, and be defeated. Leaving 4000 men to hold the castle of Milan, and warning the citizens against any attempt at insurrection, he rapidly concentrated 70,000 men about San Angiolo, between Pavia and Lodi. This movement did not reveal the real direction of his march, for he might be on his way to the famous bridge over the Adda at the latter town. During the night between the 19th and 20th, two military bridges were thrown over the Ticino, at Pavia, beside the permanent bridge of stone. Early on the morning of the 20th, to the surprise of the citizens, the heads of Radetzki’s columns appeared before their gates, and entered the city. The masses of armed men wound through the streets. Radetzki watched the march from a window, and as they recognized him they burst out into loud acclamations, Viva! Xivio! Eljen! as Lombard, Sclav, or Magyar battalions went by. Exactly at noon the vanguard, led by Colonel Benedek, crossed the bridge, and the Austrian army began to enter Piedmont.

Had Ramorino obeyed his orders, he would have been between La Cava and Pavia with 6000 men and sixteen guns to dispute the passage of the river, and then to retard the Austrian advance on the Mortara road. Instead of this, he had been misled by information received on the preceding day, which led him to believe that Radetzki’s plan was to cross the Po at Piacenza, and strike at Alessandria, and that any show of preparation to cross at Pavia would be only a feint. He had therefore crossed to the south bank of the Po, intending to watch the narrow ground between the hills and the river, in front of Voghera, through which, if his information were correct, the Austrians would advance. At La Cava he left three battalions. One of these—the Lombard Sharpshooters of Manara—attempted to dispute the advance of the Hungarian vanguard, under Benedek, but with another battalion supporting it, it was driven back to the Po, which Manara crossed and rejoined Ramorino. The third battalion retired to Mortara. The Austrians then continued their advance, leaving a single brigade to watch the Po, and prevent Ramorino from re-crossing the river.

While the Austrians were crossing at Pavia, the Piedmontese began the passage of the river twentyfive miles higher up, at San Martino. The advance was led by the Duke of Genoa’s division, with Charles Albert at its head. The advanced guard occupied Magenta, but there was no trace of the Austrians; it was said that they were concentrating towards Lodi. Chrzanowski hesitated, and then gave orders to halt and wait for information. Only one division had crossed; the rest of the army was still upon the Piedmontese side of the Ticino. At ten that night he received intelligence of what had happened at Pavia—that the Austrians had crossed there, and that Ramorino had disobeyed his positive orders, and led his division across the Po, where it was completely cut off by the Austrian advance. He immediately signed an order, appointing Fanti to the command of the division of Ramorino, who was tried by court-martial after the war, and paid with his life the penalty of his disobedience or neglect of orders.

Radetzki’s object was now evident. By occupying Mortarahe would be on the flank of the road from Novara to Vercelli, by which alone the Piedmontese army could communicate with Turin. If the Austrians could occupy Mortara, nothing but a precipitate and perilous retreat, or a battle fought with every disadvantage against them, could save the Piedmontese army from destruction. Chrzanowski immediately gave up his intended advance upon Milan, directed two divisions to march upon Mortara in order to save the town, while three others were pushed forward to Vigevano, between Mortara and the Ticino, to threaten the Austrian right, and, if possible, defeat it and cut off Radetzki’s communications with Pavia.

The plan was a good one, but it was very imperfectly executed. On the 21st both armies advanced by the network of roads between the Ticino and the Sesia. The heads of the Piedmontese columns on the left were driven in by the Austrian advance by San Siro and Gambolo, but General Bes checked their further progress by gallantly repulsing an Austrian attack on the position of La Sforzesca in front of Vigevano. But on their right Radetzki attained his object—the occupation of Mortara. The divisions of Durando and the Duke of Savoy had halted in front of the town at four o’clock in the afternoon. They did not expect a battle until next morning; but an hour after they were suddenly attacked by D’Aspre and the Archduke Albert, the son of the hero of Aspern and Wagram. The fight

lasted over three and a half hours, and ended in the darkness by the total defeat of the Piedmontese, Colonel Benedek having forced his way into the town, at the head of his Hungarians, capturing 1700 prisoners and five guns. This victory virtually decided the campaign, for the various divisions of the Piedmontese army were spread over such a wide extent of ground, from La Sforzesca on the left to beyond Novara on the right, that a retreat to Vercelli was impossible, now that the great junction of roads at Mortara was in the hands of Radetzki. There was only one course open to Chrzanowski, and that was to concentrate on Novara, and there fight a battle in which the very existence of his army would be at stake. He therefore passed the 22nd in directing the retreat of his five divisions upon Novara, while on the other side the Austrian army pushed forward, now longing for battle and doubly confident of victory. While the main body marched direct upon Mortara, one corps moved by Robbio to the left to cut the Vercelli road. The two armies bivouacked in front of each other, the Piedmontese about Novara, the Austrians from Vespolate to Mortara. The morning was to witness a struggle for life or death, but the conditions on both sides were different. Charles Albert and Chrzanowski, if defeated, would be utterly ruined, for their line of retreat on Vercelli was cut, and they had the barrier of the Alps towering behind them; but for Radetzki defeat would entail no heavier loss than a safe retreat to Pavia.

Novara is a town of about 15,000 inhabitants, surrounded by an old wall, and standing between two small rivers—the Terdoppio and the Agogna—which run past it about a mile to the east and west, flowing southward towards the Po. The ground between these two rivers is further divided by several canals running parallel to them, and garden walls, watercourses, and rows of trees intersect it, while here and there are small villages, villas, and farmhouses, with strong walls of stone. Finally the ground rises in a gradual swell towards Novara, so as to afford good positions for artillery commanding the plain to the southward, over which the Austrians would advance. Chrzanowski had to hold this position with 50,000 men and 111 guns. He drew them up for battle in two lines, extending from the right bank of the Agogna to beyond the Terdoppio. In the front line, going from right to left, were the divisions of Durando, Bes, Peronne, and Solaroli; in the second were those of the two sons of Charles Albert, the Dukes of Savoy and Genoa. The strongest part of the line was that held by General Peronne, who occupied the villages of Bicocca and Olengo, which commanded the Mortara road, and on which it was therefore anticipated that the main attack of the Austrians would be directed. Behind these two lines was the town, and through its narrow streets lay the sole retreat in the event of a disaster.

The morning of the 23rd broke dull and misty, and all day long there were frequent showers of rain. At 10 a.m. Radetzki put his 2nd and 3rd corps and reserve in motion towards Novara, while the 4th for the present remained at Mortara; the 1st was at Vercelli, but too far distant to take part in the fighting. By a strange coincidence it was the anniversary of the retreat from Milan after the famous five days of 1848; Radetzki was now amply to avenge that defeat by the five days’ campaign which ended at Novara. At eleven the 2nd corps, led by D’Aspre, encountered the Piedmontese in front of Olengo, and drove in the Bersaglieri, who occupied that part of the line; but the Austrians were in turn repulsed by a Savoyard regiment, which came up to the aid of the defeated riflemen. Then for full four hours the Austrians failed to make the least impression on the Piedmontese lines, for a single corps was opposed to a whole army. The Duke of Genoa brought up his division and directed the operations on the right, where the fight was hottest. Three horses were killed under him, and at one time it seemed that his desperate daring would secure a victory to the Italian cause. But D’Aspre and the Archduke Albert, though they lost ground before the furious onslaught of the Piedmontese, and left several prisoners in their hands, succeeded in keeping their lines unbroken, and at three o’clock the 3rd corps and the reserve began to come into action, and the tide of battle turned in favour of Austria.

Radetzki had ordered the 4th Corps to leave Mortara, and, moving by the cross roads to the Austrian left, attack the right of the Piedmontese, 'the marshal and his staff now watched anxiously for the first sign of its appearance on the field, which they knew would decide the battle. At half-past five the white cloaks of the cavalry of its advanced guard were seen on the hilly ground to the left. Radetzki immediately ordered an attack along the whole line. Chrzanowski had seen them, too, and was already making arrangements for a retreat, for the battle was lost. On his left the Austrians drove his troops out of Bicocca, an Italian regiment in the Imperial service taking five guns; on the right the troops were b^ing forced gradually backward with the bayonet, and had already lost three guns.

The defeated army poured into the streets of Novara, whole regiments breaking up and mingling in a disorderly crowd. Durando kept his division steady, and with the help of the guards and a few companies of Lombard volunteers protected the retreat, or rather the flight, of the rest of the beaten army. Finally he fell back upon the town amid the gathering darkness, and the Austrians lighted their watch-fires and bivouacked under its walls. The clouds hung heavily over the field, and a gentle rain poured steadily down.

A wild, confused din arose from the streets of Novara. Musket shots, and even volleys, rang out above the tumult, and through the night rose on all sides the glare from burning houses; for the soldiers, demoralized by their defeat, were plundering wherever they could, and fired upon the cavalry sent to restore order. Beyond the town, the roads leading northward towards the Alpine country were crowded with dense masses of fugitives on horse and foot, guns, tumbrils, and waggons—all the wreck of the shattered army now fast melting away.

Charles Albert had remained upon the field to the last moment. All day long he had exposed his life with a recklessness which made many believe that he sought for death. At seven he was still beyond the walls of Novara; the Austrians were firing on the retreating troops, and a storm of bullets was falling about him. General James Durando, the brother of the more celebrated general of the same name, came up to him, took him by the arm, and led him away. He tried at first to resist, and would still have lingered on the field. “General,” he said, sorrowfully, “this is my last day—let me die!”

His first care was to despatch Signor Cadonna, one of the democratic ministry who acted as their representative in the camp, to the Austrian outposts to negotiate an armistice; but Radetzki refused to treat with anyone but the king. At nine o’clock Charles Albert called around him his two sons and his principal generals, and announced to them his intention to abdicate. “Gentlemen,” he said, “I have sacrificed myself for the cause of Italy; for that cause I have exposed my life, the lives of my children, my throne; I have not been able to succeed. I conceive that my person may be the only obstacle to peace henceforth necessary; I could not sign it. Since I have not been able to meet with death, I will accomplish a last sacrifice for my country. I lay down my crown, and I abdicate in favour of my son, the Duke of Savoy.”

The generals made a vain attempt to induce him to change his determination, but he refused; and having embraced every one who was present, retired to an adjoining room. An hour after he left Novara in his carriage by the Vercelli road, refusing to allow anyone to accompany him. At the Austrian outposts, where he arrived at midnight, and had a narrow escape of being saluted with a discharge of grapeshot, be announced himself as the Comte de Barge, Colonel of the Piedmontese army, on his way to Nice, and requested a pass. While a message was being sent to head-quarters to ask for it, he took supper with General Count Thum, and then revealed who he really was. Next morning he was allowed to continue his journey to Nice; thence he went to Oporto in voluntary exile. The saying that deposed monarchs die quickly has passed into a proverb: it was true of him. His life at Oporto was a calm and silent preparation for his end, which he felt was rapidly approaching. It came on the 29th of July in. the same year, only four months after the fatal field of Novara. Turin celebrated his obsequies with a stately pomp, which marked her gratitude to one of the best of her kings. His memory is venerated by all who revere high-souled devotion, heroic courage, and stainless honour. Alas! that he, to whom Charles Albert gave his crown was unworthy of him, and possessed none of his virtues, except, indeed, that mere animal courage, which was the least of all.

Victor Emmanuel was twenty-nine years of age when, by the abdication of his father, he became King of Piedmont. As Duke of Savoy, little had been known of him beyond the circles of the court and high society at Turin, but he had earned a favourable opinion by his valour in the two campaigns of 1848 and 1849. Men were ready to assume that he possessed other good qualities, which would render his reign an illustrious one. Those hopes have been disappointed, and it is ours to relate the deep wrongs inflicted upon the Church and upon Italy by the man who, in an evil hour, received the crown of Piedmont amid the wreck and carnage of Novara—a fitting augury of his reign.

On the day after the battle he met Radetzki at the village of Vignale. The negotiations for peace were commenced, and an armistice concluded. The young king did not make a very favourable impression on the Austrian officers, who were amused by the rueful way in which he spoke of some horses he had lost at Mortara, one of which he had the satisfaction of recovering through the courtesy of one of Radetzki’s equerries. By the terms of the armistice, Piedmont was to pay the expenses of the war, the Sesia was to be the line of demarcation between the two armies, and the fortress of Alessandria was to be garrisoned by an Austrian, in conjunction with a Piedmontese, corps. The foreign troops in the Piedmontese service were to be disbanded, the emperor granting an amnesty to such of them as were his subjects, and the Sardinian fleet was to be withdrawn from the Adriatic.

The first incident of Victor Emmanuel’s reign was a conflict with his subjects. When the terms of the armistice were communicated to the Chamber of Deputies at Turin on the 27th, the Radicals made a desperate attempt to force upon the country a continuance of the war, though the only result of a rejection of the very moderate terms offered by Radetzki would have been to bring the Austrians to Turin. Signor Lanza moved that the assembly should declare that the armistice was unconstitutional, and that the government, by executing it, would violate the constitution, and this senseless resolution was carried against the ministry. Then Signor Testi proposed that the Chamber should declare itself en permanence, and send a deputation to communicate its sentiments to the king. To this also they agreed, and, as if that was not enough, two other resolutions were adopted, urging the government to declare the country in danger, concentrate all their available forces at Alessandria, and summon every able-bodied man to arms at Genoa, and further declaring that the ministers would be guilty of high treason if they admitted the Austrians into Alessandria, or recalled the fleet from the Adriatic before the armistice was accepted by the Chamber. As there was nothing between Turin and the Sesia to stop the Austrians, and the Piedmontese army was at their mercy,. Victor Emmanuel, after the ministers had made a vain attempt to bring the Radicals to reason, prorogued the parliament on the 30th, and dissolved it a few days after.

But already its acts had borne evil fruit. On the 28th, the municipality of Genoa voted an address of sympathy with the views expressed by the war party in the parliament, and General Avezzana, the commander of the National Guard of the city, called the people to arms. General Azarta, the commander of the garrison, thinking they only wished to make a stand against the Austrians, allowed them to occupy two of the forts. But the national antipathy to the Piedmontese carried them farther; the insurgents announced their intention of proclaiming a Ligurian Republic, with Genoa as its capital. A provisional government was appointed, barricades were hastily thrown up, and General Azarta was summoned to surrender. With 5000 troops under his command, he made an attempt to clear the streets, and on the 3rd of April there was some sharp fighting at the barricades, in which the Genoese proved victorious, and Azarta agreed to evacuate the city. A ship. from France, with a cargo of 15,000 muskets, intended for the Piedmontese government, arrived in the port during the fighting, and was at once seized by Avezzana for the armament of the people.

General La Marmora, who had occupied Parma with 7000 men on the day of Novara, was retiring to the Piedmontese territories, when he received intelligence of the revolt at Genoa, and orders to suppress it. He appeared before the city on April 4th, and his army, having been reinforced by the column of Azarta and other troops hastily despatched from Turin, now numbered 30,000 men. The more moderate party in the town entered into negotiations for a capitulation, and an armistice was concluded, but it was twice broken by the Revolutionists, led by Avezzana, and it was not until the 11th of April that La Marmora completely occupied the town, after some hard fighting and a vigorous bombardment. The leaders made their escape to Marseilles in an American man-of-war. An amnesty was proclaimed, from which they only were excepted, and so ended the first episode of Victor Emmanuel’s reign.

Brescia had risen against the Austrians on the 23rd of March—the day of Novara—the people barricading the streets, naming a provisional government, and silencing the fire of the castle by threatening to massacre one of the sick soldiers in the hospital for every shot that was fired upon the town. Generals Haynau, Nugent, and Appel, were sent to the relief of the besieged garrison, but the people held out against the Austrians for eight days, and it was not until the 1st of April that they succeeded in suppressing the insurrection, and recapturing the town, after a sanguinary struggle, in which both sides lost heavily.

In the north, then, the Revolution was stamped out everywhere but at Venice. The city had been invested in the preceding year on the land side, but in the harbour lay the Adriatic fleets of England, France, and Sardinia, and there was free communication with Italy and all the rest of Europe by sea. After the battle of Novara, Radetzki offered the provisional government most lenient and favourable terms of capitulation.

An amnesty was to be proclaimed, from which only forty persons would be excluded, and these were to be given time to arrange their private affairs and depart by sea; half the paper money of the provisional government was to be recognized as legal currency, and Venice was offered the rank and privileges of an Imperial city, like Trieste. But the terms were rejected by Manin and his colleagues, and then came the siege lasting till the middle of August, a resistance which has received far more praise than it deserves. We admire as much as anyone the courage and determination displayed by the besieged, but at the same time we cannot forget that there was a system of terror at work, something like, but less complete than, that which existed during the far more desperate and more famous defence of Saragossa. Had there been any reasonable hope of relief, had an Italian army been in the field, the resistance would have been perfectly justifiable, and equally so if it had been carried on against implacable foes, intent only on inflicting a dire vengeance upon the rebel city; but there was nothing of this; favourable terms were repeatedly offered, repeatedly rejected. Nothing was to be gained by holding out; it had no result but to inflict upon the people all the miseries of scarcity, pestilence, and the fire of hostile batteries, and a fearful waste of human life. Even General Pepe endeavoured to induce Manin and his colleagues to give up a hopeless defence, and accept the terms offered by Austria. But it was no use; the Dictator pompously replied that he would hold out until three-fourths of Venice were destroyed.

By the beginning of August the Austrians had obtained possession of the forts of Malghera and S. Giuliano, which may be called the keys of Venice. The city might then have been carried by assault, but Radetzki, anxious to avoid the loss of life and the ruin of the city, which would result from such a 20 conquest, renewed his attempts to induce the provisional government to capitulate, and offered nearly the same terms which had been before rejected. These were, amnesty to all but forty of the leaders, who were named, and who were to be banished from the Austrian territories,, and the surrender of arms of every kind.

On the 22nd these terms were accepted by the municipality, to whom the provisional government had resigned its functions, and the Austrians took possession of the city. General Gorzkowski was appointed governor. There were no prosecutions <or imprisonments. A tax was levied on the citizens for the clothing and re-victualling of the army, and to provide for the family of the murdered Marinovich. This was the only punishment which Austria inflicted on Venice for its rebellion, and it was of a part with the whole character of the mild and prudent measures adopted by Radetzki in suppressing the Revolution, and pacifying the North.

§ 2. Sicily

The second Neapolitan parliament was opened at Naples on the 1st of February, for though his first parliament had been made the means of organizing an attempt at revolution in his capital, King Ferdinand was resolved to give parliamentary government another trial. It was a failure. The Liberals opposed, without exception, every measure introduced by the government. When the budget was brought in, they would only vote the most insignificant supplies, and it was well known that they were in direct relation with the Republicans at Rome and Florence. The parliament was, in fact, doing nothing, but was a continual source of danger to the peace of the kingdom, and therefore Ferdinand dissolved it on the 12th of March.

He was at this time making a last effort to come to terms with the provisional government of Palermo, and induce the revolted Sicilians to listen to reason. Early in March he offered to grant a constitution to Sicily, which would secure the legislative and administrative independence of the island, while still keeping it united to Naples by the one link of the crown. By this constitution the Catholic religion was to be that of the state, individual liberty was to be guaranteed, and no one was to be arrested or proceeded against except in the ordinary course of law; no one was to give up his property except for the public good, after having been indemnified to its full amount, and freedom of the press was to be established subject to a censorship. The 5th article declared that, “Sicily, continuing to form an integral part of the united kingdom of the Two Sicilies, shall be governed by a constitutional monarchy with a division of powers, as follows.” Then came clauses constituting a separate executive for Sicily, and a Sicilian parliament composed of a Chamber of Peers nominated by the king, and a Chamber of Deputies elected by the people.

Ferdinand could not possibly make more ample concessions than these, and the ambassadors of France and England, M. de Rayneval and Sir William Temple, accompanied Admirals Baudin and Parker with their squadrons to Palermo, to exert their influence with the insurgents, in order to induce the provisional government to accept the generous terms offered to them by the king. But the Revolutionary leaders of Palermo had no intention of coming to any com promise. They refused to accept the constitution, and they protracted the negotiations, until at length they were informed that if they did not accept the terms offered by the king before the 29th of March, hostilities would re-commence on that day. They replied that “time ran for the Sicilians as well as for the Neapolitans, and that they would renew the war at the expiration of the term if their interests required itand then they issued a proclamation, which is a fair specimen of the Revolutionary eloquence by which the Sicilians were encouraged to resistance. The generous terms offered by Ferdinand were stigmatized as dishonourable, and every effort was made to rouse an ignorant people to fury against Naples. “Sicilians,” said the proclamation, “the shout of war is to you a cry of delight. The day of the 29th of March, on which hostilities with the despot of Naples are to recommence, will be hailed with the same welcome as that of the 12th of January; and with good reason, because liberty can only be gained by the price of blood. The peace which you were offered was ignominious. It destroyed at one blow every interest created by the Revolution. ((*) You have won the admiration of all Europe; but if you had been more forgetful of your rights, and had again submitted to the lying despotism of a tyrant, what would the world have said? Sicilians, even though victory be not certain, a nation, like an individual, has even a superior right to immolate itself when honour is at stake. Better will it be to be consumed in the flaming ruins of our country, than to exhibit to Europe the spectacle of vile cowardice. Death is preferable to slavery. But no—we shall conquer. We confide in the sacred nature of our cause, and in the ardour of our souls.”

On the 28th of March, General Filangieri addressed a proclamation to the Sicilians, announcing that the liberal offers of the king had been rejected, and that the war would therefore be renewed against the revolutionary Giunta of Palermo. “Sicilians," he said, “it is not against you I am fighting, but I march against those who are the devastators of your fine country, and whose insatiable ambition must terminate in their own destruction.”

The government of Palermo had at its disposal for the defence of Sicily an army of 20,000 men, including a foreign legion of Polish, Swiss, French, and German revolutionists. They had received from England £420,000 worth of arms and munitions of war, and they had strengthened the defences of Palermo and Catania. General Filangieri could bring into the field an army of 16,000 men, including the splendid Swiss regiments of Naples 1900 strong, and he was supported by a squadron of the Neapolitan fleet. He resolved to begin the campaign by capturing Catania. On the second of April he was before Taormina, where he received news of the battle of Novara. “Radetzki has drawn a bill on us which we must discharge,” said he to his staff. The same evening he attacked and stormed the pass of Taormina, held by 4000 insurgents with nine guns, four of which remained in the hands of the Neapolitans. Two more marches brought the troops to Aci Reale, three leagues from Catania.

The city was defended by 8000 insurgent troops, and about 12,000 National Guards and free corps, the whole being commanded by a Pole named Mieroslawski, a veteran revolutionist, always to be found wherever barricades were rising in France or Italy. He had placed outposts in the villages, and strongly Defeat. entrenched the city, except on the side of Mount Etna, where the approach was difficult, and where he only erected some barricades of loose stones. Filangieri received information of this, and directed his columns across the lava-covered base of the mountain, from which they were to descend upon the northern suburbs of Catania.

The Neapolitan chasseurs, who led the advance, came first in contact with the enemy at the village of San Gregorio, which they stormed, taking two guns. Following up their success, they pursued the retreating enemy, carried a barricade, and took two more guns. They then found themselves at the end of the chief street of Catania, the Strada di Etna, which runs through the town from north to south, intersecting four great squares, the last of which, that of the cathedral, looks out upon the harbour. Every house was filled with armed men, and there were three or four guns at the entrance to each square.

Supported by two guns, the chasseurs carried the street up to the second square, but, assailed by the masses of the enemy, they began to give way. Filangieri sent six battalions to their aid, but as the troops very unwisely advanced in close order, the ranks were torn by discharges of grapeshot. They began to fall back, and, the insurgents pressing close upon them, recaptured the street and the stone barricade. Filangieri had held the Swiss in reserve, but on the repulse of the Neapolitans at half-past seven in the evening, he ordered Colonel von Muralt to lead his brave Switzers into action in the hope of retrieving the victory. Muralt charged, and retook the barricade. “Here,” wrote one of his officers, “we encountered a fearful spectacle. The road was literally covered with dead and wounded. Behind us rose Etna, tinted with the rosy light of evening; but before us was black night and the long and wide Etna street, lighted only by burning houses and the flashes of artillery, gaping like a mouth of hell.” ((*)

Muralt directed his men to advance in single file along each side of the street, firing at the opposite houses. Two guns moved along the middle of the * roadway, halting and firing at every fifty paces; behind these came the mass of the regiment. The Sicilians made a desperate defence, and it was not until half-past ten that the Square of the Cathedral was in the possession of the Switzers. The two castles surrendered next morning. Both sides lost about 400 men; but Filangieri only took 215 prisoners, for Mieroslawski evacuated the town in the night, and retired along the Palermo road. He was pursued by the Neapolitans, and on April the 9th his rear-guard Was routed at Adorno. Next day Syracuse and Augusta surrendered to the fleet, and the towns of the south began to send in their submission in rapid succession. By the middle of the month the Revolution only existed in Palermo, and on the 22nd Filangieri began his march upon the city in two columns.

On the 25th he had reached Caltanisetta, seventy miles from Palermo. There he was met by a deputation from the capital headed by the archbishop, who offered the submission of the city. The people had no idea of allowing themselves “to be consumed in the flaming ruins of their country and though the revolutionary leaders had declared in their proclamation that they would rather suffer that fate than “offer to Europe a spectacle of vile cowardice,” they were now making hasty arrangements for a departure from Sicily.

Remembering the treacherous reception of Florestan Pepe at Palermo in 1821, Filangieri wisely continued his advance upon the city, without neglecting any of the precautions usually adopted in marching upon a town held by an active enemy. It was well he did so, for as his troops entered the suburbs they were attacked by parties of the insurgents, who regarded the capitulation as a treason of the Moderates, and, though deserted by their leaders, were determined to fight. After a short skirmish this rabble was dispersed by the Swiss and Neapolitans. On May 15th, the anniversary of the failure of the Revolution at Naples, the troops entered Palermo in triumph headed by Filangieri. He conceded an amnesty from which only the chiefs of the insurrection, who had already escaped, were excluded, and an idea may be formed of the state of the island under the Revolution, when we add that the deputies of the people of Palermo during the negotiation of the amnesty insisted that it should extend not only to political offences but to crimes of every kind. Filangieri agreed to this, because at the moment it was above all things important to allay the fears of the people, as the first step towards conciliating the discontented.

The Revolution was now conquered in the North and South, but it still held out in the Centre, where its banners waved from the Capitol. Before we trace its final downfall at Rome, we must take a retrospective glance at the history of the city subsequent to the flight of the Pope, when Rome was ruled by Mazzini and his followers, and for the moment the centre of Christendom became the capital of the Revolution.

§ 3. The Roman Republic

The first act of Pius IX. after his arrival at Gaeta, was to publish a protest which had been drawn up and submitted to the foreign ambassadors before he left Rome, and in which he declared all the acts of Galetti’s government null and void, and at the same time named an executive commission to assume the management of the affairs of the Roman States, with power to remove the seat of government from Rome. It is to be regretted that the commission was never actually constituted, as it would, perhaps, have afforded a rallying point in the provinces for the loyal subjects of the Holy Father, and thus have given them an opportunity of protesting against the reign of disorder in Rome.

Meanwhile, the Radical ministry at Rome, as soon as they became aware of the Pope’s flight, had published a proclamation announcing the fact, and expressing their regret that the Pope, in leaving the city, had yielded to the advice of evil counsellors. They certainly felt that it was a serious loss to them that Pius IX. was no longer their prisoner, and they made a last effort to induce him to place himself once more in their power. Two successive deputations were sent to Gaeta, requesting him to return to his capital; but their object was well known at the court of the exiled Pope, and when they reached the frontier the deputations were refused admittance into the Neapolitan territory.

The Revolution was spreading rapidly through the Pontifical States, for the secret societies had been carefully re-organized since 1846. At CivitaVecchia Mgr. Bucciosanti, the governor of the town, openly joined the ranks of the Revolution. Almost everywhere the authorities, bewildered or alarmed at the news from Rome, gave way before the local revolutionary leaders; only at Bologna, General Zucchi, who could rely upon the Swiss regiments, succeeded in preserving order and keeping the town for awhile to its allegiance.

At Rome the Revolution advanced from day to day. On the eighth of December it was proposed in the Chamber of Deputies by Pantaleoni that a committee of five members should be nominated to consider what measures ought to be taken to meet the difficulties caused by the flight of the Sovereign of the States. The Prince of Canino opposed the suggestion. He brought up his favourite theory that in every state all authority comes directly from the people. This he said was particularly true of the States, whose inhabitants had at various times voluntarily placed themselves under the rule of the Popes; in the absence of the Pope, then, the sovereignty reverted to the people. As Pius IX. “had been carried captive by foreigners into a territory hostile to Rome and Italy,” he proposed that, until the Pope should return, the powers of the chief of the Executive should be entrusted to a committee of one ecclesiastic and three laymen, and that “any existing authority which would not obey such a committee should be regarded as an enemy to the country and a rebel against the sovereignty of the people.” ((*)

The mob in the galleries applauded vociferously, but the members remained silent, until the President, appealed to Galetti for the opinion of the ministry. Galetti answered that he thought the ministry ought not to interfere in the debate, but he tried to prove that there was very little difference between the proposals of Pantaleoni and Canino, and finally supported the former. It was adopted by the House, and five popular Liberals were named members of the commission. Three days after, the commission proposed the appointment of a Giunta of three members not belonging to the Chamber of Deputies, to discharge the functions of the sovereign.. This was agreed to by the parliament, and Prince Corsini, senator of Rome, Zucchini senator of Bologna, and Count Filippo Camerata, mayor of Ancona, were appointed members of the Giunta. Zucchini alone refused the appointment, but Galetti’s name was substituted, and he, of course, accepted it.

On the 17th Pius IX. protested against the formation of the Giunta as a fresh violation of his rights. But among the Revolutionists themselves it was far from popular. Sterbini and Ciceruacchio had been carefully organizing their forces for action. The clubs were being affiliated to a common centre, the Revolutionists of all the States were concentrating in Rome, and there Sterbini, as minister of public works, gave them employment, organization, and pay. Mamiani, who had joined the ministry after the flight of the Pope, was anxious to preserve order and keep the Revolution from going too far; but Sterbini opposed him, and took care to bring him down in the estimation of the people, who already raised outcries against him as a Moderate.

Garibaldi, leaving Nino Bixio in command of his red-shirts at Rieti, had arrived in Rome, and now shared with Sterbini and Ciceruacchio the honours of the popular applause. The Republicans were clamouring for the election of a constituent assembly to decide upon the form of government to be adopted by the States; in other words, to proclaim the Republic. Crowds assembled in the streets cheering for Garibaldi, for the constituent assembly and the Republic. The Civic Guard joined in the outcry, and on the 20th, the Giunta published a decree convoking a constituent assembly for the Roman States. Mamiani had made a vain attempt to stem the tide of Revolution, by proposing that the ministry should have power to expel all foreigners who were ill-disposed to public order, but on the proclamation of the constituent assembly he saw that his efforts were hopeless, and resigned. A new ministry was formed under the leadership of Armellini, a lawyer of seventy, a Moderate, and a fluent speaker. Sterbini retained his post of Minister of Public Works, which was in reality chief of the Revolutionary army; and Galetti was at once a member of the Giunta and the ministry. The real chief of the government was, however, Sterbini, who had the Circolo del Popolo and all the other clubs at his command. On the 26th the Giunta dissolved the parliament, and on the 29th in concert with the ministry it published a decree, fixing the election of the constituent assembly for the 21st of January, when two hundred members were to be chosen by universal suffrage and secret voting. The assembly thus elected was to meet on the fifth of February. No one doubted that, with the government in the hands of the clubs, the Republican and Revolutionary element would be supreme in the new parliament.

From Gaeta the Pope protested against the acts of Sterbini and his colleagues, and forbade his subjects to go to the electoral meetings to record their votes. The result was a striking proof that the mass of the people was faithful to the Pope and was only overawed by the Revolutionary party of action. No sooner had the protest of Pius IX. been published, than throughout the States the municipal magistrates either resigned or refused to take any part in the elections. Nor was other testimony of the loyalty of the people wanting. Cardinals, prelates, and nobles were continually arriving at Gaeta, the diplomatic corps had already left Rome for that city, and a court as brilliant as that of the Quirinal assembled round the exiled Pontiff.

Zucchi had already arrived there from Bologna, and was endeavouring to assemble the Pontifical army within the Neapolitan frontiers. He sent orders to General Latour, who commanded the Swiss regiments in the Romagna, to bring them to Gaeta by a march through the central districts of the Papal States; but the people of Bologna were so terrified at the prospect of being abandoned by the Papal troops, and feared so much an outbreak of the Revolutionists, that they prevailed upon Latour, partly by threats, partly by entreaties, to remain amongst them and content himself with preserving order in the district. Nevertheless many of his officers left him and went to Gaeta to offer their services to the Pope. One name amongst them deserves to be recorded here, that of Hermann Kanzler, who, as commander-in-chief of the Pontifical army, so long watched over the safety of Rome, and who now shares the captivity of Pius IX., as he shared his exile at Gaeta.

Zamboni, who commanded at Rome, endeavoured to leave the city for Gaeta with two other officers, but they were arrested at the frontier. But though Zucchi failed in his attempt to assemble a military force at Gaeta, the sympathy of the Catholic world placed more efficient means at the disposal of the exiled Father of Christendom. Money poured in from all sides; Cavaignac offered the armed intervention of France; Spain, Naples, and Austria were ready to co-operate; and Charles Albert, at the end of 1848, offered the Pope the aid of the arms of Piedmont, and at the same time invited him to accept his hospitality at Nice. The Pope thanked Charles Albert for his offer, but declined to leave Gaeta, giving as his reasons the disturbed state of the kingdom of Sardinia, the frequent changes of ministries, and the notorious fact that the Radical government was actually negotiating with Sterbini at Rome and Guerazzi at Florence for an alliance, and the convocation of an Italian constituent assembly.

So closed the year 1848. The Republicans were triumphant at Rome and Florence, but at Gaeta Pius IX., surrounded by the representatives of his faithful subjects, his prelates and nobles, and the best and bravest of his officers, and with the arms of Europe at his back, waited with confidence for the downfall of the usurpers, and the day of his return to the Eternal City.

On January 13th, 1849, Armellini, Sterbini, and their colleagues of the Roman government, alarmed at the effect of the Pope’s denunciation of the constituent assembly, published a decree enacting that any one who put obstacles in the way of the meeting of the electoral colleges should be regarded as an enemy of the country, and punished with the utmost severity; and committees of public safety were appointed at Rome and in the provinces to give effect to this decree. It was followed by another on the eve of the elections, establishing “a military commission empowered to pass sentences without appeal, to be executed within twenty-four hours, against all seditious attempts, even though not consummated, aimed at the lives and property of citizens, or tending in any manner to subvert the public order as actually established.” Thus the ready instruments of terror were placed in the hands of the clubs, and in the midst of this state of things the elections took place. Hardly anyone but the Republicans voted. Everywhere the aggregate of votes presented a miserable contrast to the numbers of the inhabitants. In Rome ( )itself, of the 12,000 men inscribed on the rolls of the National Guard, not more than 300 voted. Several of those who were elected were not even natives of the Roman States.

On the fifth of February the assembly met at the palace of the Cancellaria. The proceedings opened by the reading of a speech by Armellini on the part of the ministry, in which he assailed the Pope and lauded the sovereignty of the people and the victory of universal suffrage. “You meet, citizens,” he said, “amid the monuments of two mighty epochs. On the one hand lie the ruins of the Italy of the Caesars, on the other the ruins of the Italy of the Popes; be it yours to raise a fabric which will rest firmly upon their fragments… May the banner of the People’s Italy blaze proudly on the spot where sleep the thunders of the Roman Eagle and the Vatican. With this preface we inaugurate your immortal labours under the auspices of those two most sacred names—Italy and the People.”

This characteristic speech was received with thunders of applause by the House and the crowded galleries. “Viva la Republica!” shouted the Prince of Canino. “What is the use of losing time in vain formalities?” exclaimed Garibaldi; “the delay even of a minute is a crime. Long live the Republic!" The men in the galleries applauded again, and the Republic would have been proclaimed upon the spot had not Sterbini pointed out the necessity of observing the usual parliamentary forms. The House then proceeded to verify the electoral returns, and elected Galetti president. It was not until the eighth that the debate on the proposed proclamation of the Republic began.

It was opened by Savini of Bologna, who called on the House to declare the Temporal Power at an end. Mamiani followed. He saw the dangers to which the Revolutionists were hurrying on the country, and he spoke at great length against the idea of a Republic for Rome, though he at the same time declared his belief that, in the abstract,the republic was the best government for a people. But, he said, the Revolution was everywhere on the wane, even in France; the Republic would be only a source of peril to Rome; and he therefore proposed that the whole question of the form of government should be referred to the Federative Italian Constituent when it assembled. Masi, the secretary of the Prince of Canino, replied. The Popes, he said, were the scourge of Italy, and nothing but the republic was possible in Rome. He was supported by Professor Filopanti of Bologna, ((*) who moved that the Pope should be deposed from his Temporal Power, that the Republic should be proclaimed, and should give to Pius IX. “the guarantees necessary for the free exercise of his spiritual power.” Then came Agostini of Foligno, the editor of Sterbini s journal, the Contemporaneo. There was no danger, he said, in proclaiming the Republic: if they were attacked, a word would bring the French Republic to their aid. He was destined to be undeceived later on. The next speech was also Republican, from Rusconi, a journalist of Bologna. The debate was then adjourned till evening. Every speaker except Mamiani had been applauded to the echo by the galleries.

At eight in the evening the House was again assembled, and the debate was re-opened by one of the Moderates, Signor Audinot, who supported Mamiani’s views, and warned the House that the Roman question was one which affected all the world, and that to proclaim the Republic would be to bring down upon them the armies of Catholic Europe. When he ceased speaking, Sterbini rose, and flattered the sovereign people and assailed the Pope and King Ferdinand, but said nothing definite. Then two professional mob orators spoke in support of the proclamation of the Republic, one of them saying, like Agostini, that France was on their side. A long speech from the Prince of Canino followed, endeavouring to prove that the Popes were the foes of Freedom and Italy. “Do you not feel,” he said, “this consecrated soil vibrating beneath your feet? It is the spirits of your ancestors boiling with impatience, and shouting in your ears—‘The Roman Republic for ever!’ ” He sat down amidst an outburst of applause, while the crowd in the galleries took up the cry and thundered out—“Viva la Republica Romana!”

After a brief discussion, it was decided that the House should vote on Mamiani’s proposal. Cesare da Osimo endeavoured to speak in support of it, but his voice was almost drowned by the uproar of the galleries and the interruptions of the Republicans in the House. “Let us have either the Pope, or the Provisional Government, or the Republic,” said Monghini, a banker of Ravenna and an orator of the clubs. “Of the first,” he continued, “I should blush to speak: the second would only be a protracted agony: there is therefore nothing left but the Republic.”

Sterbini then formally proposed the proclamation of the Republic, and after another discussion as to the manner of voting, the various proposals were put to the House by Galetti, the mob in the galleries cheering all who voted for the Republic, and hooting and yelling at those who endeavoured to oppose it. One hundred and thirty members voted. Of these, all but ten were for the Republic; and at two o’clock in the morning Galetti proclaimed the deposition of Pius IX. and the establishment of a “pure democracy under the glorious appellation of the Republic of Rome.”

The impious farce of the Roman Revolution had thus reached its logical development. It had assumed the shadow of a mighty name. The Republic was there, but the bonnet rouge held the place of the all-conquering eagle; the iron phalanx was represented by the red-shirted rabble of Garibaldi and Bixio; and the group of journalists, lawyers, and professional agitators, overawed by the mob of the galleries and the rabble of Rome, was a poor substitute for the Senatus Populusque Roinanus. One thing only the new Republic had in common with the old—its paganism. Built up in defiance of God, warring against his Vicar, trampling on right and order, it strove to make the centre of the Christian world what it had been before the days of Constantine—the stronghold of lawless unbelief. And who were the men who proclaimed the Roman Republic? Revolutionary bravoes like Garibaldi; or worse-—men such as Lucien Bonaparte, Prince of Canino, and the hoary traitor Armellini, who owed everything to the Popes, or who, like Sterbini, had been freed from exile or imprisonment, by the amnesty with which Pius IX. began his reign, only to plot against their liberator. But so it is always—loyalty is a deadly crime in the eyes of the Revolution, and gratitude is not one of the civic virtues.

As soon as the Republic was proclaimed, the executive power was placed in the hands of a triumvirate, composed of Armellini, a Roman named Montecchi, and Saliceti, a Neapolitan exile. In the new ministry, Aurelio Saffi, of Forli, held the portfolio of the Interior, and Sterbini was still Minister of Public Works. But this was really only a temporary arrangement, for Mazzini was already on his way to assume dictatorial powers at Rome, in the name of “God and the people.” On the 8th, while the deputies at Rome were debating about the Republic, he landed at Leghorn, where he was enthusiastically received by the people, headed by his old colleague, Guerrazzi, now Prime Minister of the Revolutionary Government of Florence. News had arrived that evening from Siena of the flight of the Grand Duke Leopold to San Stefano, whence he afterwards proceeded to Gaeta. Mazzini announced the tidings to the people as a piece of good news, telling them that they had now an opportunity of proving that they could live without a sovereign.

For the rest of the month he remained in Tuscany, endeavouring to arrange with Guerrazzi a fusion of the Roman and Tuscan States, but the latter threw endless obstacles in the way, as he had no idea of surrendering to Mazzini and his Roman friends his own dictatorship at Florence. Already the Roman assembly had by acclamation proclaimed Mazzini a citizen of the republic, and all its decrees were headed with the motto of the Giovine Italia—“God and the people.” These decrees were well worthy of their authors. They first declared war against the Church, then against property in general. One decree, passed amid thunders of applause from the galleries, proclaimed the secularization of all church property; another ordered all church bells to be taken down and cast into cannon—a useless proceeding, only intended to give scope to the hostility of the Revolutionists against all that belonged to religion. Paper money was printed off and issued by the ream, but it circulated at a large discount, and it was found to be impossible to obtain a loan. The assembly therefore decreed a forced loan, in other words, a forcible confiscation of the property of the rich. The plunder was systematically arranged on a sliding scale, so that while a net income of over 2000 and under 4000 scudi paid 20 per cent., incomes of between 8000 and 12,000 scudi paid 50 per cent., and those above 12,000 scudi no less than 60 per cent. The payment was to be made in three instalments, and the government promised to return 5 per cent, per annum in the shape of interest guaranteed on the national property.

With all this, there was very little money in the treasury. A large sum was indeed sent to Venice, another to an unknown destination, some say to Naples, others to Genoa, to prepare the subsequent insurrection there; but when the Swiss troops at Bologna refused to serve the Republic, and requested their pay and discharge, there was no money to meet the demand. At the same time, as if the new Republic was not already in a sufficiently perilous position, they addressed a bombastic proclamation to all the nations of the earth, asserting the sovereignty of the people, and calling on all Italy to rush to their aid. After this, it will hardly be believed that, when they were assailed by the armies of Catholic Europe, they had the effrontery to assert that the Republic had assumed a purely defensive attitude, and menaced no other government. Even if the liberty of the Church had not been in question, the nations of Europe would have had a perfect right to trample out the focus of Revolution and insurrection established in Rome.

Already, on the 14 th, the Pope had protested against the decree of the assembly establishing the Republic, and on the 18th, Cardinal Antonelli, in the name of the Pope, addressed to the diplomatic corps at Gaeta a note, in which, after giving a sketch of the events at Rome from the accession of Pius IX. to the completion of the Revolution by the vote of the 9th of February, he asked for the armed intervention of France, Spain, Austria, and the kingdom of the Two Sicilies, to re-establish his authority, and “to liberate the States of the Church from that band of wretches which is exercising there the greatest despotism, with every kind of enormity ”—terms by no means too severe, as we have already seen, as we shall see still more clearly in the further development of the story of the Republic.

It will be noticed that Piedmont was excluded from the summons to the Crusade, for Pius IX. already foresaw the end to which the Revolutionary party had been driving on the Subalpine kingdom. Though the Neapolitan army moved at once to the frontier, French jealousy of Austrian intervention delayed the preparations for an attack on Rome, although Austria offered to confine her operations to the Romagna, and to leave to the other powers the chief share in the expedition. This delay was, perhaps, on the whole a fortunate event, for while the negotiations between the various powers were proceeding at Gaeta, and endeavours were being made to arrange a plan of operations which would satisfy the jealousy between France and Austria, the Revolution at Rome was more and more clearly developing its true character before the eyes of the world.

On the 6th of March, Joseph Mazzini entered the Hall of the Cancellaria amid the wildest outbursts of applause from the deputies and the galleries. Seated by the side of the president, Galetti, he delivered an oration, in which he exultingly proclaimed the triumph of the cause for which he had been labouring, since, twenty years before, he became a Carbonaro in his native Genoa. The Rome of the Emperors, he said, had disappeared, the Rome of the Popes had followed it, and now the era of the Rome of the People was begun. He told them that men said the Revolution at Rome was only a momentary blaze, which would soon disappear. “But no,” he concluded, “the world shall see that it is a star, everlasting, brilliant, pure as those which glow in our Italian sky.” It was a rash prophecy. Three months later the star of the Revolution paled and vanished before the light of the sword of France.

The Roman government went on with its financial measures, though it was hard to see what caused such a terrible drain upon its treasuries, unless indeed some of the virtuous Republicans were reaping a rich harvest while their brief authority endured. The ministry asked and was accorded permission to coin a million crowns of so base a currency, that it was avowedly only worth two-fifths of its nominal value. At the same time the government was publishing proclamations against “the blood-stained crimes which were perpetrated in various places,” and by which, they declared with some truth, “the virgin and august idea that soared from the summit of the capitol was draggled in the mire.” Saffi’s proclamation, or even his measures of repression, produced very little result. In the Romagna, no man’s life or property was safe: at Ancona murder was committed in the broad daylight in the public streets; even at Rome, where the government was strongest, their own agents entered houses and pillaged under the pretext of executing search warrants.

The middle of March brought news of Charles Albert’s declaration of war against Austria. On the 18th, Mazzini spoke in the parliament, calling on the Republic to join in the war, and on the 22nd they threw down the gauntlet to Austria, by publishing a proclamation, calling all Italy to arms from the Alps to the sea. It might be expected that the Roman Revolutionists would have been ready to follow up bold words by acts, but nothing was done. The council of war, established on the suggestion of Mazzini, did, indeed, order 10,000 men to the north, but so far as we are aware, not a single battalion left the gates of Rome. At the same time Mazzini proposed a conscription throughout the States—the tax of blood which always follows in the wake of the Revolution, and which it first introduced into Europe. On the 29th, while the Council was publishing proclamations and ordering levies and armaments, the news arrived that the war had ended five days before, by the disaster of Novara. The assembly met with closed doors, and the debate was a stormy one. The old triumvirate of Armellini, Montecchi, and Saliceti, resigned, and a new one was nominated, composed of Mazzini, Saffi, and Armellini. Mazzini was now in reality the absolute ruler of Rome. The dubs were at his beck; the assembly registered his decrees as submissively as the Parlement de Paris received those of the Grand Monarque; and as for his colleagues in the triumvirate, he managed with equal ease the aged Armellini and the youthful Aurelio Saffi.

Next morning an exaggerated account of the insurrection at Genoa was received from Tuscany, and Mazzini, exulting in what he considered the patriotism of his native city, published a proclamation announcing the good news of another revolution, for which he had no doubt prepared the way. Then began a series of proclamations, edicts, and ordinances, most of them from the pen of Mazzini, while fresh paper money was issued from that ever-ready mint of the Revolution, the printing-press, and measures were taken to insure the payment of the forced loan by a fine of twenty-five per cent, on defaulters. Most families in Italy who live in any comfort possess some plate, often very old. It was seized on all sides, and carried off with the gold and silver from the churches to the Revolutionary treasury. Still money was scarce, and nothing but paper circulated. It has been asserted—with what truth we cannot say, but the story is a probable one—that most of the gold and silver was sent abroad, and that no inconsiderable portion of it found its way to Paris, where it was used in subsidizing the French Republican deputies and the press, in order to organize an opposition to the proposed French expedition to Rome.

The Republicans of Paris in the first great Revolution had celebrated their triumph in Notre Dame; but it was reserved for Mazzini and his Roman colleagues to defile the great temple of the Christian world with impious rites, and to outrage God Himself by introducing the adorable Sacrament of the Altar into the public fetes of the Revolution. Easter was close at hand, and Armellini and Mazzini resolved to ape the splendid rites of Holy Week at Rome. From the time of Michael Angelo, who designed the ceremony, to that of Leo XII., who discontinued it on account of the disorders which took place among the crowds of foreign spectators, it had been customary to illuminate the dome of St. Peter’s with a huge cross of light suspended in the immense vault, the rest of the church being left in darkness, except where the mystic radiance from the dome streamed down the long aisles, casting broad shadows on the pavement and giving only a doubtful light, even in the nave. But though the exhibition was discontinued, the machinery of the spectacle still lay in one of the store-rooms of St. Peter’s. It was brought out, and on Good Friday evening it hung illuminated in the dome. A crowd of curious spectators filled the church, and with them mixed the licentious rabble of men and women which always comes to the surface in times of disorder; and, to give a thoroughly civic character to the spectacle, every now and then tricoloured fireworks blazed and flashed in the dome.

On Easter morning St. Peter’s was decorated as if for the great festival, and the canons were ordered to celebrate the Paschal Mass and sing a Te Deum> for the Republic. They courageously refused. But the Triumvirs were not to be defeated in their object. They found an army chaplain, named Dell’Ongaro, a suspended priest, to say Mass at one of those altars in St. Peter’s which are reserved to the Pope himself. Mazzini, Saffi and Armellini were present, as were many of the deputies and the representatives of the clubs. The Tuscan consul represented Guerrazzi and the Revolutionists of Florence, the Swiss consul the Lutherans of Berne, and there, too, were the consuls of America and England lending their countenance to the scene.

When Mass was over the priest, Dell’Ongaro, proceeded to the great balcony, bearing the Blessed Sacrament. Around him waved the banners of the Republic; on his right was Gavazzi, on his left another renegade priest; behind him were the Triumvirs. From the balcony he gave the benediction to the crowd below, while the guns of St. Angelo fired a salute; and then Mazzini came forward and received the homage of the people. Not only zealous Catholics, but many of the Liberals themselves, were disgusted and scandalized at the scene, some of the worst features of which were repeated on the feast of Corpus Christi in the following June. The canons of St. Peter’s were each fined a hundred and twenty crowns for refusing to sing the Te Reum, for the Revolution invariably denies liberty to all but its own votaries. Things were in a worse state in the provinces, where the Archbishop of Sinigaglia disobeyed a similar order to celebrate a Te Reum for the Republic, and was murdered by the local club.

A few days before the Pasch of the Revolution, there had been another public celebration in Rome of a different kind. In February the National Guard had taken possession of the palace of the Roman Inquisition, an institution which has been very ridiculously compared with the Spanish tribunal of the same name. ((*) It does not appear that they found anything very terrible in the building. There were indeed the cells of the prison, large airy rooms with good beds, opening on broad corridors in which and the adjacent gardens the prisoners took exercise. But during the following weeks the palace was completely transformed. Bones were collected from a disused burying place close by, and were heaped in the cellars, blood was spattered on the walls, mournful inscriptions were written up in charcoal, iron chains, spikes, and collars, were scattered about in careless confusion. Then it was announced that in order “to inspire the Roman people with an unquestionable hatred of the government which it had overturned” (so ran the decree) the palace would be open for one day to the inspection of the public; and with an unconscious regard for the popular associations of the day the Triumvirs chose the first of April for this highly edifying exhibition. Most people asked why these horrors had not been shown in the previous February—a question to which we have already supplied the answer.

Everywhere in Central Italy a strong reaction had now set in. The people were gathering courage to overthrow their revolutionary rulers, whose tyranny was a palpable reality and not a rhetorical fiction. On the 11th the Florentines rose against Guerrazzi and his Livornese colleagues and followers, to the cry of “Long live Leopold!” And such was the fury of the populace that Guerrazzi was glad to find himself safe in the prison to which the municipality consigned him to save his life. A deputation was then sent to Gaeta, to arrange for the return of the Grand Duke. The Roman government tried to prevent the news from Tuscany from being known in the city; but nevertheless the tidings circulated from mouth to mouth, and on the 14th Mazzini acknowledged the truth in the Chamber by telling the deputies that “treason was victorious in Piedmont and Genoa, and in Tuscany the reaction had made another step towards its triumph.” There was a debate in which the deputies encouraged each other to bear up under the bad news. “Let us make a solemn oath,” said Sterbini, “rather to be buried beneath the ruins of our country than to recede from the Republican principle we have proclaimed; we swear it?”“Yes,” cried all the members in chorus, and next day a decree announced the patriotic oath to the people. In fact the Roman assembly was a faithful reproduction of the Jacobin assembly of Paris in 1792, where je le jure was the constant burden of the debates.

But reaction was at work nearer Rome. In the marches of Ancona and along the Neapolitan frontier, guerilla bands swept the country, proclaiming the restoration of the Pope, but they were badly armed and worse led, and they were easily dispersed by the Republican volunteers, whose successes were announced at Rome as great victories. But though the Revolution could put down all attempts at Papal reaction, it was powerless to repress the crimes committed by its own followers. “The revenge which the secret societies had cherished in savage spirits,” says Farini, “broke out into acts of perfidy with such violence that the homicides were absolute masters of one or two cities.” In this respect Ancona was the worst, and there and elsewhere it was a common thing for the police to be in league with the assassins, and everywhere the murderers enjoyed perfect impunity, for many of them were the most active supporters of the triumvirate.

All the while the storm was gathering abroad against the Republic; Catholic France led the way in the crusade: it was less the act of her government than of her people. Louis Napoleon was then at the head of affairs, but even he had to follow the initiative of the Catholic party in France, though, if we are to believe his own words, he was personally opposed to the expedition to Rome. On the 2nd of December, 1848, on the eve of his election to the presidency, he had written to that effect to the editor of the Paris “Constitutionel,” when Cavaignac announced to the assembly his intention of sending troops to Ci vita Vecchia. ((*) When the matter was again brought before the assembly the ministry, instead of plainly avowing their policy, said that they went to Italy solely to secure the influence of France, and that they would not force any government on the Italian people; yet with this vague declaration the assembly authorized the expedition by 325 against 283 votes. General Oudinot was appointed to the command, and in his first order of the day, published on April 20th at Marseilles, he did not make a single allusion to the Pope, but only indulged in well rounded phrases about the good will of the French Republic to the people of the Roman States. The result of all this uncertainty was that no one could be sure whether' the government intended to restore the Pope, or join with the Republicans of Rome in fighting the Austrians, and then establishing a Franco-Italian state in Central Italy. It is quite possible that this was the real object of the French president and his advisers. If so, the public opinion of Catholic France was too strong for him, and Oudinot was forced on to Rome.

General Avezzana, who, after commanding the Genoese insurrection had fled to Rome and become Mazzini’s minister of war, had made some preparations for the defence of Civita Vecchia, and placed a garrison there. On the 24th a French frigate steamed into the harbour, and one of Oudinot’s aides-de-camp came ashore and requested that the French expedition then off the port should be allowed to land. The local committee of public safety hesitated and thought at first of resistance; but their counsels were divided. They did not know whether the French were foes or allies: they knew only that if the demand were refused Oudinot would try to enforce it; and, as the people had assumed a threatening aspect towards the local government, it would have been difficult to resist. They therefore agreed to permit the landing, and on the 25th the French disembarked to the cry of “Vive la Rcpublique!—Vive I’ltalie!” And General Oudinot published a proclamation in which, for the first time, he referred to Pius IX., but still in very vague and undecided terms. The municipality drew up a protest and posted it on the walls; but Oudinot knew the men he had to deal with, and by his order the copies which had been posted were torn down, the rest of the impression seized, and the printing office occupied. This incident, trifling in itself, is important as the first openly hostile act of the French commander towards the Roman Republicans.

Meanwhile Mazzini had been making preparations for the defence of Rome. He endeavoured to obtain from Victor Emmanuel the six thousand men of the Lombard division, lately commanded by the unfortunate Ramorino, but now under the orders of General Fanti. The division actually set out for Central Italy during the Genoese insurrection, but it went no farther than Chiavari, where it first halted and then retreated. Mazzini has openly charged Fanti with treachery in this affair, alleging that the only object of the Piedmontese government was to keep the Lombards from going to Genoa, and that as soon as they heard of La Marmora’s victory they revoked the permission they had given to the Lombards to proceed to Rome. One battalion only, the Bersaglieri of Manara, 600 strong, succeeded in embarking, and arrived at Civita Vecchia. Oudinot refused to admit them to the town, but allowed them to go on to Porto d’Anzo, and, landing there, they reached Rome in safety.

All the while Oudinot was profuse in his declarations of friendship to the deputations which came to his head-quarters from Rome. The fact was he had not the remotest idea of how the affair would end, or whether his watchword was to be “Vive Pie IX!” or “Vive la Republique Romaine!” And by his duplicity on this occasion Louis Napoleon and his advisers showed that the honour of France was not safe in their hands.

As soon as he had secured his base at Civita Vecchia, Oudinot received orders to go on to Rome. He sent two officers of his staff, Colonel Le Blanc and Captain Fabar to confer with the Triumvirs. Fabar brought a proclamation of the general’s, in which he said that France came only to anticipate the advance of the Austrian and Neapolitan armies, and would not interfere with the form of the Roman government, but Le Blanc, in a private conversation with the Triumvirs, plainly said that his country could not see the Vicar of Christ dethroned without making an effort to reinstate him. Fabar spoke the language of official France, but Le Blanc gave utterance to the sentiments of the Catholic heart of her people. The Assembly met, and resolved to repel force by force if the French tried to enter the city. Sterbini, now Senator of Rome, harangued the National Guard: the military authorities began to put the walls and gates in a state of defence: a committee of barricades was appointed, and it was announced that the streets would be defended inch by inch. At the same time the shopkeepers were forbidden to raise the price of provisions, more paper money was printed off as rapidly as possible, and decrees were issued regulating the confiscation of Church property.

On the 27th of April General Oudinot pushed forward an advanced guard to Palo. Next day he declared Civita Vecchia in a state of siege, closed the clubs, disarmed the Republican troops of the garrison, and issued a proclamation in which, after referring to the treatment of Pius IX. at the hands of the Revolution, he told his soldiers that they had been defied by the Republicans of Rome, and called upon them to accept the challenge. He then marched out of the town with 6000 men and 12 guns, and on the 29th he halted before Rome at Castel di Guido, intending to attempt an assault next day.

The troops which Mazzini and his friends had at their disposal for the defence consisted of the National Guard of Rome—on which, however, they could place but little reliance—the soldiers who had deserted their colours to join in the attack on the Quirinal, and some new regiments, formed of all the Revolutionary elements of the Roman States, carefully recruited by the clubs. Besides these, there was a motley assemblage of Poles, Germans, and Switzers, and men from various parts of Italy, the Lombard sharpshooters of Manara, and the ruffianly legions of Garibaldi and Medici. These last, composed of veteran Revolutionists contained some of the best soldiers of the Republic.

Oudinot began his advance at five o’clock on the morning of the 30th. He did not expect any serious resistance. The bands played, the officers wore their parade uniforms, there was no regular plan of attack, there was no attempt to reconnoitre the ground, and so badly informed were the staff, that it was believed that the Porta Pertusa, which had long been walled up was one of the gates available for an entry. At eleven, one of the French columns was advancing through the broken ground in front of the Porta San Pancrazio, when it encountered Garibaldi’s legion, Manara’s Lombards, and some of the Roman troops, who had taken up a position beyond the gate amongst walls, gardens and villas, the latter being loop-holed for musketry. The French tried to clear those obstacles but failed, and while the vanguard was thus engaged, about three hundred men, who had advanced too far amongst the enclosures held by the enemy, were cut off from their friends by Manara and Garibaldi, and made prisoners. General Mollier’s brigade advanced against the walled-up Porta Pertusa, but, being without artillery, it had to retire after suffering some loss. At the same time the brigade of Le Vaillant made an attempt against the Porta Angelica. It was led forward by a road which was swept by the fire from the walls, and, becoming involved in a narrow lane, where it was attacked in front and on both flanks, it was forced to retreat with a loss of fifty men. At five o’clock Oudinot, finding it was impossible to enter Rome with the small force at his command, gave up the attack and fell back to Palo. There was no pursuit, for Garibaldi knew very well that his men would be no match for their foes in the open ground beyond the suburbs. The French had lost three hundred men; the Republicans, fighting under cover, about half that number. But the action had a result far greater than the slight success obtained by the Republicans. French blood had been shed by the Garibaldians, the tricolor had retreated before the standards of the Republic, and if only to wipe out the stain on the honour of France the fate of the usurping government was sealed. For a few weeks diplomacy delayed its downfall. The French prisoners were exchanged for the Roman garrison of Civita Vecchia; and an armistice followed, as the French government was sending an envoy to negotiate with the Triumvirs.

On the 29th, the day before the repulse of the French, the King of Naples crossed the Roman frontier with 8,500 men, hoping to co-operate with Oudinot. As he advanced into the Papal territory, he was everywhere received by the people with vivas for Pius IX.; nor was it only in the presence of foreign armies that his subjects gave expression to their loyalty for the Pope-King. Here and there throughout the States there were tumults and outbreaks, in which the popular cry was for the Pope and against the Republic. At Rome there was continual fear of a Papal reaction. One day there was an actual panic. Galetti and some Republican volunteers seized some unfortunate vine-dressers in the suburbs, and charged them with being Jesuit spies sent to excite a rising. They were carried by a howling mob to the bridge of Saint Angelo, where they were torn to pieces by the infuriated crowd. Then the Republicans, under pretext of a search, plundered several houses and villas, and threatened to sack the convents. It was while Rome was in this disturbed state that news arrived of the Neapolitan invasion.

Taking advantage of the truce with Oudinot, who publicly stated that he would not co-operate with the Neapolitans, Garibaldi was sent with his legion to observe the movements of King Ferdinand. The Republican chief occupied the rock-built town of Palestrina, one of the strongest positions in the Papal States. He was attacked there by General Lanza with three battalions and some mountain-guns on the evening of the 9th of May. The action lasted until the darkness had closed in, and then Lanza, who with his light artillery had been unable to force the strong barricades of Palestrina, fell back on the main body at Albano. His loss was only 10 killed and 26 wounded, but Garibaldi announced the affair as a great victory. Nevertheless the Neapolitans were allowed to remain undisturbed at Albano, within three leagues of Rome, and to hold undisputed possession of the country. But on the 17th Colonel Agostino, whom the king had sent to Oudinot’s headquarters, returned with a message from the French' general, saying that he would allow none but his own troops to take part in the siege of Rome. On this the king ordered his army to retire to his own frontier. No sooner did the retreat begin than General Roselli, Mazzini’s commander in chief, sallied out from Rome at the head of 12,000 men to the aid of Garibaldi, in order to follow the march of the Neapolitans and give it the appearance of a flight before the legions of the new Republic. At Velletri on the 19th, Garibaldi, pushing on with the Roman vanguard, attacked the Neapolitan rearguard under Lanza. For ten hours the Neapolitans repulsed every assault, and the Republicans at length gave up the attempt to force their position. Next morning Lanza continued his retreat, and Garibaldi occupied the town, sent news to Rome of a splendid victory, and shot in cold blood some of the citizens who had declared for the Pope during the Neapolitan invasion. On the 26th he made a raid across the frontier, expecting that the Neapolitans would rise at his summons: but far from exciting an insurrection his approach caused nothing but terror among the peasantry, and he had to retire without effecting anything. Such was Garibaldi’s campaign of 1849, which has been so much mispresented by some Italianist writers, who would have us believe that the Revolutionary hero defeated the Neapolitans in two great battles, and drove them before him across their own frontier. The fact was, that they were reduced to inaction by the jealousy of Oudinot, just as the Spanish troops, which landed about this time at Gaeta, had for the same reason to content themselves with the occupation of Terracina—a mere demonstration of the good will of Spain towards the Holy Father.

Meanwhile the Austrians were performing more efficient service in the suppression of the Revolution in the Adriatic provinces. After the downfall of Guerrazzi at Florence the Tuscan revolutionists had concentrated their forces for a last stand at Leghorn. The corps of D’Aspre, which had been detached by Radetzki to assist in the pacification of the centre, appeared before the town on the 9th of May. The Revolutionary leaders, who had a safe retreat behind them and vessels in the harbour ready to take them to France, rejected his summons to surrender. The attack began next morning, and by the afternoon of the following day the Austrians were in possession of the city. With the fall of Leghorn ended the short-lived Tuscan Revolution. Unfortunately the Grand Duke allowed the Austrians to occupy his capital, a measure for which there was not at the moment the least necessity. The people were enthusiastic in his favour, and they felt insulted by a foreign garrison being imposed upon them. It was the one error of Leopold at his restoration.

Having secured Tuscany, D’Aspre put his columns in motion for Bologna. All the citizens who had anything to lose were anxious to avoid a conflict, and above all dreaded seeing arms in the hands of the Revolutionary mob of the city, and the refugees who had poured into it from Lombardy and Venetia. The municipality passed a resolution that even in the event of resistance being decided upon no arms should be given to the populace and the refugees; but the mob broke into the armoury and seized the weapons stored there, and from that hour a surrender was impossible.

The Austrian vanguard, like that of the French at Rome a few days before, approached the place carelessly, and was repulsed with some loss. Flushed, with this success the Revolutionary leaders resolved on a defence a outrance. Nevertheless it was quite evident that resistance was hopeless. The municipality obtained an armistice of twelve hours, and endeavoured to negotiate a capitulation; but the mob rose upon them, forcing them to break off all communications with the Austrians; and a triumvirate was appointed to continue the defence. The place held out till the 16th, when the Austrians, having brought up -some mortars and guns from Mantua, began a bombardment. One hour after, the besieged hoisted the white flag. Most lenient terms were granted to them. The barricades were to be removed, the tree of liberty cut down, and all arms surrendered. No one was to be punished for his part in the defence. Those of the troops who wished were to be free to depart: those who remained were to take an oath of allegiance to the Pope. Having thus secured Bologna, General Wimpfenn was despatched with a strong column against Ancona. As he advanced through Romagna and the Marches he was everywhere hailed with cries of “Viva Pio Nono!” He arrived before Ancona on May 25th while a few Austrian vessels under Admiral Dahlerup blockaded the harbour. The place was garrisoned by 4000 men with 119 guns. They made a brave defence, and held out till the middle of June, when they capitulated on favourable terms. This conquest restored peace and order to all the Adriatic coast of the Roman States, and put an end to the reign of anarchy and murder which had existed in the city and the Marches of Ancona since the proclamation of the Republic. The Austrians would have pushed forward into Umbria and joined in the blockade of Rome, but Oudinot wrote to their commander signifying to him that any Austrian movement towards Rome would be regarded as an insult to France, and that he was resolved to take the city unaided. On receiving this warlike message Wimpfenn at once ceased his advance. Oudinot had thus successively rejected the co-operation of Naples, Spain, and Austria. The plan drawn up at Gaeta proposed a simple blockade of Rome by the four armies, which would have led to a surrender in a few days without firing one shot against the city; but the policy of the French president made this impracticable. Oudinot hurried on to Rome to anticipate his allies, and after the repulse at the Porta San Pancrazio a regular siege became a necessity, at least in the eyes of the French officers.

The successes of the Austrians had now reduced the territory of the Roman Republic to the city and its suburbs. M. de Lesseps, the French envoy, had been negotiating for a whole month with Mazzini and his brother Triumvirs. His great object was at any coat to secure for the French troops a peaceful entry into Rome, by a convention with the Republican government, which practically would have been equivalent to its recognition by France. Each time that the terms he offered were rejected, he made them more moderate, until at length he actually went so far as to consent to a convention by which the French troops, without entering the city, were to encamp in the neighbourhood of Rome as the allies of the Republic, and a plebiscite was to decide whether the Pope should be recalled or not.

Meanwhile General Oudinot had been viewing with ever increasing displeasure and suspicion the proceedings of M. de Lesseps. He was anxious to avenge the repulse of April 30th, by forcing his way into Rome, and when Lesseps brought him for signature the draft of his convention with Mazzini, be burst into a fury, telling the envoy that he would not sign it, for in doing so he would sacrifice the honour of France and of the army. Fortunately at this juncture Lesseps was recalled to France, and Oudinot, whose army had been raised by reinforcements to 35,000 men, gave notice to the Triumvirs that the siege of Rome was to commence, and that he would begin his operations on the 4th of June.

During the armistice, Mazzini and Roselli had collected all their forces in Rome, barricaded the streets, mounted new guns on the walls, and ruthlessly devastated the suburbs, even in places where there was no fear of an attack. Garibaldi’s rabble had come back from the Neapolitan frontier, and re-entered the city, where his troops occupied a convent, the nuns being turned out into the streets to make way for the red-shirted legionaries. With him came the Romagnol Zambianchi. Taken from the prison where he lay charged with nine murders, he had been placed in command of a troop of custom-house guards, on the southern frontier. Thence he had sent some priests to Rome, charged with corresponding with Gaeta, but as there was no evidence against them, they had been released. Incensed at what he considered an ill-judged clemency, he swore that when next he arrested priests, he himself would be their executioner; and now, arrived in Rome, he kept his word. He took up his quarters at the Benedictine convent of S. Callisto, in the Trastevere, from which the inmates had been expelled. His men, by his orders, arrested priests and monks suspected of conspiring against the government. Without even the form of a trial, they were shot in the cloisters, Zambianchi sometimes firing on them himself, at other times entrusting the butchery to his followers. How many were murdered will never be known. The French found fourteen corpses half buried in a pit in the convent garden; others were discovered elsewhere. In all, it is believed that forty or fifty is not too high an estimate of the number massacred at S. Callisto. There were similar scenes enacted at the desecrated convent of Sta. Sabina, on the Celian Hill. Nor was this all. There were murders in the public streets, and when the carriages of the cardinals were burned, more than one of the spectators was stabbed for daring to express regret at such useless destruction. ((*)

Priests were the most frequent victims. One was shot for admitting the French to his house on Monte Mario, another for venturing to appear on the walls; another was dragged from the bedside of a sick man in one of the hospitals, and shot because he had a passport for Gaeta, whence he was going to plead a case before one of the ecclesiastical courts. The hatred of the Revolutionists for religion in every form evinced itself in threats against the noblest monuments of Christian art, and it was gravely proposed that, in the event of surrender being inevitable, St. Peter’s and the Vatican should be burned to the ground. The Sisters of Charity were banished from the hospitals, and their places were taken by abandoned women gathered by the Princess Belgiojoso from the streets of Rome, so that the unfortunate men who were wounded in the defence, instead of seeing the daughters of Saint Vincent watching over their bed of suffering, died with the incarnation of vice and irreligion before their eyes. ((†)

The arms of France were now to drive from the Holy City the men who had thus made it a den of anarchy and corruption. General Oudinot had given notice that he would attack the “place ” (piazza) on June 4th; but, rightly or wrongly (for we will not discuss the point), he considered himself free to begin his operations against the outlying suburbs before that date. Oudinot had resolved to attack Rome on the side of the Trastevere. In that direction rhe point which was most easily assailable was the sharp salient angle which contains St. Peter’s and the Vatican, but as an attack upon it would have inevitably led to irreparable damage to the palace and the great basilica, the French engineers resolved to direct their operations against the long bastioned wall of the Janiculum, to the south of the Vatican. At 3 a.m. on the morning of the 3rd, the French attacked the Republican outposts in the villas outside the Porta San Pancrazio, which pierces the centre of the wall of the Janiculum. By seven o’clock they had captured the houses, but all day the Republicans, led by Roselli, Garibaldi, and Manara, kept sallying out in great numbers, and made desperate attempts to recover their lost ground. It was not until nightfall that the last of these attacks was repulsed, and the French were in secure possession of the hotly-contested suburb.

Next day the trenches were opened by the French engineers in front of the wall, and on the 6th, Oudinot’s fire, commencing from thirteen guns, soon began to produce an effect on the heavy brick walls of the Janiculum. The besieged Republicans made frequent sorties, but never in any great force, and they were invariably repulsed with severe loss. Indeed, though the Triumvirs had enough of material force for the defence, their military leaders directed it with very little skill, and the general opinion was that the French were fortunate in getting into Rome as easily as they did, for, held by brave men with good leaders, the position of the Janiculum, with its double wall, would have been almost impregnable; but Roselli, Avezzana, and Garibaldi knew very little of the art of defending walls against regular approaches and well-served artillery. When the breach began to open in the wall near the Porta San Pancrazio, there was not even an attempt made to retrench it. Roselli indeed wished to do it, but Garibaldi would not let him.

The fact was, Mazzini relied less on what Garibaldi and his colleagues could do for the defence, than on what might be accomplished by Ledru Rollin and the Communists of Paris. He was deeply implicated in the plot for the intended outbreak on the 13th of June, and his hope was that a successful revolution would place Ledru Rollin at the head of affairs in France, in which case Oudinot’s troops would at once cease their operations against Rome, and become the allies of the Republic, But on the miserable failure of the plot and the flight of Ledru Rollin, this hope vanished, and Mazzini saw the walls of the Janiculum fast crumbling before the fire of the French artillery, while there was not the remotest prospect of any relief or succour from his friends abroad.

The fire of the Roman guns was silenced, and on the night of the 21st of June (the anniversary of the Pope’s coronation), while the Republicans were disputing amongst themselves, and Sterbini and Garibaldi were trying to wrest the command from Mazzini and Roselli, a French storming party surprised the breach, and before evening they had entrenched themselves on the Janiculum, and were bringing up guns to continue the attack on the inner defences of Rome.

Roselli withdrew his troops to the old Aurelian wall in front of the church of St. Petro di Montorio, where he had a second line of defence. For eight days the fire of the French batteries was directed against the old wall and the adjacent buildings. Another great anniversary came round—St. Peter’s Day, the 29th of June. That moroing it was clear that the breach in the Aurelian wall was practicable, and Oudinot resolved to signalize the day by an

attack. The evening was dark and gloomy. As night closed in, a thunder-storm burst over the city. The Republicans had illuminated the dome of St. Peter’s, and that night the beleaguered capital of Christendom presented a strange spectacle. High up in the darkened sky the glittering arches of light traced out the form of the mighty cupola. Along the Janiculum blazed and thundered the artillery of France, while from the Aurelian wall the Republicans replied. Their gunners were falling fast under the storm of exploding shells, but they were lashed to the guns, and could not flinch. Over all the angry sky poured down its forked darts of lightning, and the thunder crashed and roared above the cannonade. Amid the storm and darkness the firing ceased, and the French columns came pouring up the breach, and swept all before them. Four hundred Republicans were bayoneted upon the wall, amongst them the Lombard Manara. Rome was won, for, with the high ground of the Trastevere in the possession of the French, further resistance was impossible.

Next morning the Assembly met at the Capitol. Mazzini urged a desperate resistance from house to house, or the evacuation of the city and the transfer of the war to the provinces. Nevertheless the deputies accepted a motion authorizing a capitulation. Oudinot held possession of the ground he had won without advancing into the city. To the deputation sent to him by the municipality to negotiate for terms, he replied that he would accept nothing but an unconditional surrender. This answer was communicated to the Assembly on the 2nd of July, and they grandiloquently resolved to remain at their posts without taking any notice of the proceedings of the French general. They also decided that all who had fought in defence of Rome should receive the citizenship, that the obsequies of the slain should be celebrated in St Peter’s, and pensions bestowed on their relatives, and that the constitution of the Republic, which had just been drawn up, should be proclaimed next day from the Capitol, and then engraved there on marble tablets.

That evening Garibaldi mustered his legion in the great piazza before St. Peter’s. Besides his immediate followers he rallied to his standard the legion of Medici, the foreign troops, in a word all the desperadoes of the Republican army who feared for their safety if they remained in Rome. The force thus assembled amounted to 4000 foot and 500 horse. Garibaldi put himself at their head. He was accompanied by his wife, Anita, an amazon who had often fought by his side. “I offer you,” he said to this motley array, “fresh battles and new laurels, but at the price of greater perils and fatigues. Let those follow me who have courage; let those follow me who have faith in the salvation of Italy. We have stained our hands in the blood of France, but we will plunge our arms in that of the Austrians.”

Then the march began. Ciceruacchio took the place of guide. The column crossed the bridge of S. Angelo, wound through the city, and, pouring out by the gate of S. Giovanni, pressed forward towards Tivoli, fearful of pursuit. French and Neapolitan columns were advancing after him; he turned northward, and, passing by the field of Mentana, where eighteen years after his star went down in blood, he reached Monte Rotondo. Pursuipg his march to Terni he was joined by 900 men, and they advanced to the Tuscan frontier, in the hope of exciting an insurrection in the Grand Duchy. But the Austrians closed in upon his front. He was repulsed from the walls of Arezzo, and effected a difficult retreat into the Apennines, where for a time he evaded the pursuit of his enemies; his legion all the while melting away, and the worst of his followers plundering wherever they went. Arrived at length at S. Marino he claimed the protection of the Republic, and disbanded the greater part of his column. For years after many of his followers of 1849 formed a dangerous banditti, which infested the passes of the Apennines. Feeling that the little Republic could not protect him, he pressed on to the Adriatic coast with a few men, not more than three hundred in all. With these he put to sea in thirteen fishing boats, and arrived in sight of Venice; but the Austrian cruisers captured and dispersed his little squadron. He himself escaped with a few followers to Central Italy. His wife died on the third day after he landed, his few men left him, and alone he passed through Tuscany and escaped to Tunis, where he found a ship to take him to New York. But, though defeated, he had done his work at Rome. His name was a power in Italy, and he was soon to return to conquests, won not by valour but by official treachery.

The day after Garibaldi marched out of Rome the French troops entered the rescued city. The streets were thronged with people, and the agents of the secret societies mingled with the crowd. They raised loud outcries against the priests, against the French, against Oudinot, and more than once they tried to lead the people to attack the troops. The dagger, the favourite weapon of the Revolution, was at work on all sides, and several priests and some Frenchmen were killed or severely wounded. Next day the troops dispersed the Assembly, and a strict military rule soon restored order in the city. Mazzini lingered in Rome a few days in the hope of exciting another Revolution. He proposed to Roselli that he should ask Oudinot to encamp the Roman troops outside the city, and then treacherously recover possession of it, by a sudden attack on the French in concert with an insurrection in the streets. ((*) But the plan was rejected as impracticable, and he took his departure for England.

On the fifth of July Colonel Niel of the French Engineers—a brave soldier of Irish descent, whose name in later years attained a European celebrity— arrived at Gaeta to lay at the feet of Pius IX. the keys of his capital, now rescued from the grasp of the Revolution. The Holy Father, in return, sent his blessing to the army and to Catholic France. “Receive my congratulations, General,” he wrote in his reply to Oudinot, “congratulations not on the blood which has been shed, for that my heart abhors, but on the triumph of order over anarchy, and on the liberty restored to all Christian and honest men, which will make it no longer a crime to enjoy the blessings which the Lord has imparted, and to adore Him with the religious solemnity of public worship, without running the risk of losing life or liberty.”

So ended the Italian war of 1849; it was but the sequel of the failure of 1848. But for the Revolutionary party the struggle might have had a happier ending, and Italy might have dated from 1848 the era of her unity and independence—a unity and independence far different from that she now possesses, which is only subjection and servitude to Piedmont. Had Charles Albert been allowed by the Revolutionists of the North to accept the proposals of Austria, Lombardy would have been ceded to Piedmont, and Venice would have become a quasi-independent state. But for the Revolutionists of the South, the Neapolitan army would have remained in the North, and might have turned the tide of war against Radetzki; but the insurrections of Naples, Calabria and Sicily forced Ferdinand to recall it for the defence of his throne. He could not act otherwise when his life and liberty were endangered by the discontented spirits of his capital, and when every effort was being made to sever Sicily from his dominions, and that too at a time when all should have been united against the common foe. Finally, if, instead of yielding to a miserable ambition for the pre-eminence of Piedmont over the other states, and a jealousy of Rome and of the Pope, which was the natural result of the traditions of the secret societies, the Cabinet of Turin had accepted the proposals of Pius IX., the Italian League, so long desired by the true friends of Italy, would have become a reality, the armies of the federated states would have marched together to free the soil of their country from foreign domination, and an Italian Diet assembled at Rome under the presidency of Pius IX. would have consolidated the unity of Italy without destroying the independence of its individual states.

Never let it be forgotten that Pius IX. was the first to propose the Italian League, that the Grand Duke of Tuscany and the much calumniated Ferdinand of Naples were ready to assist in effecting the confederation, and that the one obstacle to it was Piedmont, then under the influence of the Revolutionary-party. In the ranks of that party were the real enemies of Italy, foes far worse than the Austrians. Resolved on accomplishing their one idea—the establishment of an infidel Italian republic extending from the Alps to Sicily—they opposed the idea of the League, because the Pope was its promoter, and because it would have proved an insurmountable obstacle to their plans. In the war of 1848 they had played a secondary part; in 1849 they succeeded in openly assuming the leadership in the conflict with Austria Charles Albert was a mere tool in their hands, and in the Centre they were the rulers of Rome and Florence. They saw their power crushed by the arms of Austria and France, but the Revolution was not destroyed. The first epoch in the struggle had closed—that was all. The defeat of 1849 was for the Revolutionists of Italy but the prelude of the triumph of ten years after.

The Revolution of the barricades was at an end— the Revolution whose leaders were the chiefs of the sects, its armies the young enthusiasts of the universities and the rabble of the great towns, its exchequer the contributions of sympathisers throughout Italy and Europe, its allies the Liberals of France—the Revolution whose battles were won at the barricades of insurgent capitals, but which had never placed an efficient army in the field. But another phase of the Revolution began—the Revolution of the bureaux, planned in the cabinets of ministers, led by kings, having armies and powerful alliances at its command, and the wealth of kingdoms pouring into its coffers..

We are now about to enter upon the history of its first victories in Italy, a tale of infamy, perfidy, and deceit as dark as any recorded in the annals of mankind. Even the men of the barricades were far above the treacherous conspirators of the ministerial bureaux. Europe, in its pagan worship of success, has too long closed its eyes to the crimes of Cavour and his colleagues; it is time that the truth should be spoken fully and fearlessly. Lovers of truth, we have no object but to disperse the cloud of prejudice and deceit, which has hitherto obscured the narration of these events from the eyes of many, who would equally with us condemn their authors, if they understood the real character of the Revolution which effected the so-called Unity of Italy. We judge it, not by the invectives of its foes, but by the confessions of its friends, many of them the colleagues and allies of the arch-conspirator, Cavour. One thing only we ask to be conceded to us; it is the principle from which we set out—that falsehood does not become truth because it is spoken by a statesman or a king, and that robbery does not cease to be dishonest and dishonourable when the spoil is a whole kingdom.

APPENDIX

No. I

Constitution granted by Charles Albert to Piedmont (Feb. 8th, 1848), now forming the Statute Fondamente of the Kingdom of Italy.

Article 1.—The Catholic Apostolic and Boman religion is the sole religion of the state.

The other forms of public worship at present existing are tolerated in conformity with the laws.

Article 2.—The person of the Sovereign is sacred and inviolable. His ministers are responsible.

Article 3.—To the King alone appertains the executive power. He is the supreme head of the state. He commands all the forces, both naval and military; declares war, concludes treaties of peace, alliance and commerce; nominates to all offices, and gives all the necessary orders for the execution of the laws without suspending or dispensing with the observance thereof.

Article 4.—The King alone sanctions and promulgates the laws.

Article 5.—All justice emanates from the King, and is administered in his name. He may grant mercy and commute punishment.

Article 6.—The legislative power will be collectively exercised by the King and by two Chambers.

Article 7.—The first of these Chambers will be composed of Members nominated by the King for life; the second will be elective on the basis of the census to be determined.

Article 8.—The proposal of laws will appertain to the King and to each of the Chambers, but with the distinct understanding that all laws imposing taxes must originate in the elective Chamber.

Article 9.—The King convokes the two Chambers annually, prorogues their sessions and may dissolve the elective one; but in this case he will convoke a new assembly at the expiration of four months.

Article 10.—No tax may be imposed or levied if not assented to by the Chambers and sanctioned by the King.

Article 11.—The press will be free, but subject to repressive laws.

Article 12.—Individual liberty will be guaranteed.

Article 13.—The judges, with the exception of mandamento, will be irremovable after having exercised their functions for a certain space of time, to be hereafter determined.

Article 14.—We reserve to ourselves the power of establishing a district militia una milizia communale) composed of persons who may pay a rate which will be fixed upon hereafter. This militia will be placed under the command of the administrative authority, and in dependence on the Minister of the Interior.

The King will have the power of suspending or dissolving it in places where he may deem it opportune so to do.

No. II

Draft Treaties for the Italian League, proposed by Pius IX.

(See Chap. VI., § iv., pp. 267, 268.)

I. Treaty drawn up during the Mission of Rosmini.

In the name of the Holy and Undivided Trinity.

Ever since the three Courts of Rome, Turin, and Florence concluded the Customs’ League, their idea has been to enter into a a Political League, which might become the active nucleus of Italian nationality, and give to Italy that unity of force which is needed for internal and external defence, and for the regular and progressive development of national prosperity. As this intention could not be realized in a complete and permanent form, unless the aforesaid League assumed the shape of a Confederation of States, the three above-named Governments, fixed in the resolution to bring their plan to effect, and in order to make it known before Italy and Europe that the said Confederation exists between them, as well as to establish its primary conditions, have appointed as their Plenipotentiaries, His Holiness the Sovereign Pontiff, the King of Sardinia, &c., H.I. and R.H. the Grand Duke of Tuscany, &c., and who, having exchanged their full powers, &c., have agreed among themselves on the following articles, which will acquire the validity of a formal Treaty after Ratification by the High Contracting Parties.

Article 1.—A perpetual Confederation is established between the States of the Church, of the King of Sardinia, and of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, which, by the union of their strength and action, is to guarantee the dominions of the said States, and to protect the progressive and peaceful development of the liberties granted in them, and of the national prosperity.

Article 2.—The august and immortal Pontiff, Pius IX., mediator and initiator of the League and the Confederation, and his successors, shall be their Perpetual Presidents.

Article 3.—Within one month from the ratification of the present Convention, a delegation from the three Confederated States shall assemble in Rome, each State sending three Deputies, who shall be elected by the Legislative Power, and authorized to discuss and enact the Federal Constitution.

Article 4.—The Federal Constitution shall have for its aim the organization of a Central Power, to be exercised by a permanent Diet in Rome, whose principal functions shall be the following:—

(a) To declare war and peace, and, as well in case of war as in time of peace, to fix the contingents required of the several States, both for external independence and internal tranquillity.

(b) To regulate the system of Customs-duties for the Confederation, and to make a just partition of the respective charges and proceeds among the States.

(c). To manage and negotiate Treaties of Commerce and Navigation with foreign nations.

(d). To watch over the concord and good understanding of the Confederated States, and to maintain their political equality, with a perpetual power of mediation in the Diet for all disputes which may arise among them.

(e). To make provision for unity in their monetary system, weights and,measures, military discipline, and laws of trade; and to concert with each State the means of gradual arrival at the greatest practicable uniformity in respect also to other branches of political, civil, and penal legislation, and of procedure.

(f). To order and manage, with the approval and co-operation of the several States, enterprises of general advantage to the nation.

Article 5.—It shall be free to all the other Italian States to accede to the present Confederation.

Article 6.—The present treaty shall be ratified by the High Contracting Parties, within one month, or sooner if possible.

II. Treaty drawn up under the ministry of Rossi.

His Holiness, the Sovereign Pontiff. (Titles of Contracting Parties). Having maturely considered the present circumstances of Italy and the natural community of interest which exists among the independent States of the Peninsula; and desirous, accordingly, of providing by mutual agreement for the defence of their freedom and independence; and at the same time of consolidating public order, and promoting the gradual and regular progress of prosperity and civilization, the chief element of which is the Catholic religion, have concluded the following stipulations as a fundamental law for their respective States:—

Article 1.—There shall be a League between, &c. &c.

Article 2.—Every other independent Sovereign and State of Italy may within the space of.... give its adhesion to the League and become an integral part of it.

Article 3.—The affairs of the League shall be propounded and dealt with, in a Congress of Plenipotentiaries deputed by each contracting party. Each State may choose them according to such rules as it may think most seasonable to establish for itself.

Article 4.—The number of Plenipotentiaries shall not exceed for each State. Whatever the number be, the Plenipotentiaries of a Sovereign represent collectively the State which has sent them, express in the discussions the view of their principal, and have no more than one vote.

Article 5.—The Congress is provided over by the Pope; and under his authority, by such one of the Roman Plenipotentiaries as he shall select.

Article 6.—The organic regulations for the Congress of the League shall be adopted in a preliminary Congress, to be opened at Rome not later than theand shall thereafter be ratified by the High Contracting Parties.

Article 7.—The High Contracting Parties promise not to conclude with other States or Governments any treaty, convention, or special agreement, at variance with the terms and resolutions of the Italian League, and the rights and obligations flowing from them; saving always the entire freedom of the Pope to conclude treaties or Conventions, directly or indirectly relating to matters of religion.

THE END

Siccome il nostro indice non coincide perfettamente con quello originale  pensiamo di fra cosa gradita riportando l’indice originale nelle pagine seguenti – N. d. R.

NOTE

__________________________

Ai sensi della legge n.62 del 7 marzo 2001 il presente sito non costituisce testata giornalistica.
Eleaml viene aggiornato secondo la disponibilità  del materiale e del Webm@ster.