A GLIMPSE OF GARIBALDI.

Press, Volume XLV, Issue 7158, 20 September 1888, Page 6

A GLIMPSE OF GARIBALDI.

By Rev. H, R. Haweis, M.A.

i It seems but yesterday—'tis twentyeight years ago—l was standing outside my hotel on the Chiaja, at Naples. It was the mt-morable October of 1866. There was a great shout—a crowd came surging along in pursuit of a carriage drawn by a couple of worn-out horses, driven at a shambling gallop. All the horses at Naples were worn-out in those days. The dusty vehicle stopped in front of my hotel, amid shouts of " Viva Garibaldi .*** and in another moment the great patriot—sole dictator of the two Sicilies—stepped out.

A dense crowd closed around him. I got as near as I could. Some touched his red shirt; others his battered sword scabbard —an uncontrollable emotion seemed to seize all who came near him. That was the first time I saw him. He no longer stood erect. His head was bent a little. The last prodigious fortnight, ending with the flight of the King of Naples and battle of the Volturno, which was only just over, seemed to have broken his health, but he was at the acme of his power and popularity, and his nerve never failed him for a moment. As he turned to pass into the hotel both his hands were seized and kissed by the crowd, some of them kneeling. He smiled a little wearily and deprecatingly, yet his small, piercing eyes, set close together, were kind, and seemed to miss no one. A strange figure that, to wield a power more absolute and despotic than ever belonged to Victo r Emmanuel. There he stood for a moment with his red-giey head bare, his tall, calm brow, his back slightly bowed—the peasant patriot, in his coarse red shirt, with a large plain sword in iron scabbard by his side, and a strong steel watch chain dangling from a si de pocket.

He was ccvered with dust after his drive to Naples from the military hospital at Caserta. He had come into Naples as usual on Sunday to dine. I was fortunate that day, for I saw him again. All Naples seemed to be spending its Sunday afternoon on the Chiaja in front of Garibaldi's hotel, and towards five o'clock waggons, filled with Neapolitans in holiday costume waving flags and intoning "Garibaldi's Hymn," passed up and down the Chiaja j whilst the crowd from the street to the sea was ever changing, but always equally dense. The balcony windows remained closed in spite of the frantic cries of " Garibaldi! Garibaldi!" which continued at interval 3 as long as it was known that the General was within.

About six o'clock, when the crowd, which was as thick and noisy as ever, had almost given up hopes of seeing him, the windows opening on to ■ the balcony were thrown aside, and, amidst a scene of indescribable enthusiasm which I shall never forget, the grave, worn, bent figure of the General stepped out. For a moment he looked down upon the mighty surging mass of heads, fluttering handkerchiefs' hats, flags, sticks, swords, and umbrellas, whilst from end to end of the Chiaja rose the shout of a great people, who knew that they owed their national life and freedom to the indomitable heart and iron nerve of the. man so prematurely aged— for he was but 53—who stood before them.

Garibaldi was no speaker, yet he was always effective, brief, and simple. His voice was low and veiled (voile), almost tremulous with inner emotion, and yet he spoke with singular calm and deliberation. I believe that I am the only ever recorded that speec"a.

Presently a dead silence succeeded td the thunderous shouting, and Garibaldi, as far as I could gather (he was not five minutes on the balcony—l was close underneath it) spoke these words :—" In the midst of such a people as this it is unnecessary for mc to excite you by any speeches to patriotism. Let United Italy (Italia una 1) and Victor Emmanuel be still your motto." (Capua had not then fallen, and the King had not yet entered Naples.) ** I do not need these demonstrations to assure mc of your fidelity—we must all act—the people must rise—they must fight for liberty!" He leaned a little forward, his eyes seemed closer together than ever, and full of smouldering fire, they were fixed earnestly on the crdwd, and as he pronounced the last word " liberta 1" he raised his hand above his.bent head and pointed with his finger t > the sky.

Platitudes, no do jbtl—the merest commonplaces of revolutionary oratory, very true I—but the effect was electric. I understood then the words of Garibaldi's then young aide-de-camp—now and ever since my good friend—Signor Rondi, who lounged one day into the Market-place at Rome when Garibaldi was there recruiting volunteers.

"I had no idea of enlisting," said Rond, to mc. "I was a young artist —I only went out of curiosity—but, oh 1 I never shall forget that day when I saw him on his beautiful white horse in the Marketplace, with his noble aspect, his calm, kind face, his tall, smooth forehead, his light hair and beard—every one said the same. He reminded us of nothing so much as the pictures of Our Saviour's head in the galleries. I could not resist him. I left my studio. I went after him ; thousands did likewise. He only had to show himself. We all worshipped him • we could not help it."

I met a young Milanese noble at the siege of Capua. His horse bad been shot under him a fortnight before; he was poorly equipped and almost in rags, h e had nothing but his sword and pistol.

'* What induced you," I said, " to give up ease and luxury for this life of a dog, In a camp without commissariat, pay, or rations ?" We spoke French.

" You may well ask. I tell you," h e said, "a fortnight ago I was in despair myself, and thought of giving up the whole thing. I was sitting on a hillock as might be here." (At that moment he and I were on the heights of San Angclo, watching the desultory bombardment of Capua.) " Garibaldi," continued my friend, " came by. He stopped, I don't know why. I had never spoken to him. I am sure he did know mc, but he stopped. Perhaps t looked very dejected, and indeed I was. Well,he laid his hand on my shoulder and simply said, with that slow, strange smothered voice that seemed almost like a spirit speaking in mc, * Courage ! Courage! Nous allons combattre pour la patrie V Do you think I could ever turn back after that ? The next day we fough the battle of the Volturno.' " You were in itf " Yes, my horse was shot there, and I have not had one since, though I'm supposed to be cavalry. Oh! the General, he was sublime on that day of the Volturno fight; it was more like magic than anything I ever saw. Do you know we were on the point of defeat? They made a sortie from Capua; and if they had got through our lines they would have got back to Naples. It was a near thing."

I had just missed that battle, to my intense annoyance, and although I assisted at the siege of Capua, there was never any brisk fighting after the Volturno, nothing but shells and round shot, with occasionalfv a little rifle practice from Neapolitans in "ambush whenever you crossed the white road between San Angelo and the walls of Capua.

" On that day," continued my friend, "we were in fact surprised, and the Garibaldians were in full retreat—stampede I should say. The General was at Caserta when the action began, four miles away. The instant the news reached him he got into his carriage with Missori, and hurrying together ail the men he could on the way, drove up yonder white road in the thick of a murderous cross-fire from the Neapolitans. The General's carriage appeared in the midst, just at the moment our men were breaking ranks. He did not get out of his carriage. He sat there and gave his orders. The contrast between

his coolness and tbe wild confusion and terror of all around, I shall never forget. It had its effect. It rivetted the attention of the most scared. Presently one of the General's horses was taken with a round shot and plunged in death agonies; tn another instant his coachman was snot through the heart. It was the decisive moment. Then, and not till then, the General leapt out of his carriage *_»tn Missori, and drawing his famous English sword, headed that decisive charge which turned the fortunes of the day." I will not trust myself to dwell upon this extraordinary man as he appeared in the hospital at Caserta, where the doctors used to say that when the General passed resurrections took place, or upon that memorable occasicn when, seated in a carriage with four officers, he drove.into Naples, faced the bristling cannon of the Castcl Nuovo, paralysed the hostile forces with Bomba at their head by his mere presence and captured the city without an army. I saw him frequently at Naples. I spent a good deal of my time at the camp during the siege ot Capua, and should have been into the city amongst the first after its surrender had not my carriage been seized by Garibaldians. who refused to make room for mc, its rightful owner. On occasions in those wild, lawless my carriage had been also impressed, but had always been allowed a seat as one of the i-irty, but on the test day the pressure was too bot, aud I lost my great chance I felt this was rough treatment, for many a starving Garlbal-lan had got a , meal out of mc at Naplesyand my.wine 1 bottle in camp was usually emptied by others. But there was no law m camp or city save the sovereign will of the dictator, S Turr was made governor. I, myself, have gone backwards and forwards from Nances to Caserta by rail free of charge As no one seemed to have any money, and it was absolutely necessary for hundreds to go to and fro, Garihaldi ordered the trains to run lor nothingfa-d'so they did about a west A raw youth of fifteen, with a arawn sword in a red shirt and ragged boots, wis told off as sole sentinel anl guard of Bank at Naples. IswUm myself The Neapolitan police, still wearuniform of the dethroned King paraded the place, but without any official authority, their functions being at an end wUh those of the. King of Naples. One asked, in the spirit of routine, to see my passport at theTost-office. I laughed in his face as I gave it him, and said, "_ ou ye no authority!" He shrugged his shoulders, laughed, and handed the passport back to mc without looking at it. They were all Garibaldians In heart. What times were those I To have seen the coining together of a new age-the transformation, the rehabilitation of a country, the actual accomplishment of what looked then like the dream of-a* visionary-that was an experience never to be forgotten. With all its lawlessness, wiokedness, and license, . what noble elements were interwoven with that great movement I What vigour, self-sacrifice, endurance, and ctnvalric courage 1 Iruly it was an heroic age, stamped by a hero, and that hero, without detracting from the, merits of Cavour, Mazzini, and Victor iammanael, was undoubtedly Joseph 'On the Uth of October, 1860, Victor Emmanuel at last crossed the Neapolitan frontier. He was going to receive at the hands of the great dictator the conquered kingdoms of the two Sicihes. On the 12th —forever memorable day—the King set out with his trim staff for Garibaldis head-quarters. The General immediately set out to meet him with his worn and weather-beaten red shirts. It was a striding sight. The King wore hisField-Marshal'snniform— bluetrimmed with gold—the medal of some order round his neck, the most blazing star upon his left aide, and a great cocked hat and feathers. Garibaldi had on his coarse red shirt—bis faded blue cloth poncho (the same he was afterwards shot down in at Aspromonte by Victor Emmanuel's troops —it is now in the possession of Dr. Baccani). The instant the King came in sight of Garibaldi he clapped spurs to his "horse and galloped away from his staff towards his great subject. Garibaldi did the same; their followers fell back with a shout of " Viva Victor Emmanuel F two met: Garibaldi uncovered his head, and as the King rode up, saluted him in a voice hoarse with emotion, with the words which he had at last made possible, •' Re cCltalia!" The King placed his hand upon his breast, and raising himself slightly in his stirrups, bowed "low over his horse's head. He then clasped Garibaldi warmly by the hand, and said, " General, I thank you 1" The officers of both staffs immediately mixed, whilst king and dictator rode apart, conversing for about half an hour. i have elsewhere described at some length how I witnessed the triumphal entry of Victor Emmanuel and Garibaldi into Naples; how at the last moment the King, having found a new mistress in Capua, neglected to review the Garibaldians. who had been standing under arras all the morning, and to whom he owed so much ; how Garibaldi then refused to ride into Naples with the King *, how his Majesty sent and implored him to consider his decision at that critical moment in the great Italian revolution; whereupon Garibaldi pronouced those famous words, '■ The cause is greater than the King," and went. Seated ou the top of a lamp post in the Toledo, I waited for many hours in the drenching rain. It was long past mid-day when the ttoyal carriage (preceded.by Piedmontese cuirassiers) with the King and Garibaldi, drove slowly down the Toledo. I shall never forget the King's haughty—almost savage—look, and Gari : baldi's stern and motion iess face. Every one was shouting " Viva Garibaldi 1" No one cried " Viva v ictor Emmanuel 1" The King bowed stiffly *, Garibaldi stirred not a muscle in reponse. Strange ending to such a glowing drama: On the Bth of November, 1860, Garibaldi formally resigned all his powers -into the hands of Victor Emmanuel, and from that moment every insult was heaped upon him and his patriotic soldiers by the King's party (not intentionally—l will never believe it—by the King). On the 9th the ex-dictator, having laid two kingdoms at his Sovareigu's feet, sent to the King's stables for a carriage to take him to the place of embarkation. He was told to take a cab. He had to borrow twenty pounds to pay bis private debts, and left Naples on board an American ship for Caprera, with a sack of potatoes unci fourteen shillings in his pocket. That was the proradest day of his life. He was never greater than at that hour. Italy felt it. The age of chivalry holds no nobler figure. He was a man who could not be bought, nor bribed, nor frightened, nor cajoled; who lived lor others; who loved his country better than his life; who was " tried by both extremes of fortune and tempted by neither." Italians had never seen the like, and they loved him with a love that has had no parallel in the nineteenth century. : ' . ' To have seen bim on the battle-field in the flush of victory, in the glowing light of Italy's resurrection; to have been near him; to have heard him speak; to ha*?e induced him to write some of bis memoirs; to have been his occasional correspondent, and to possess some dozens of his letters and MSS.,—these are amongst the most absorbing and treasured memories of my life.