l 
 
 i
 
 \^
 
 THE DAWN OF 
 ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE 
 
 ITALY FROM THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA, 1814 
 TO THE FALL OF VENICE, 1849 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM ROSCOE THAYER 
 
 ^' io al vera son finiido atnico, 
 Temo di perder vita tra coloro 
 Che guesio tempo chiitmeranno atttico. 
 
 Dante; Paradiso, xvii, iiS-120. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 VOLUME I 
 
 BOSTON AM) Ni:\V VOKK 
 
 HOUGHTON', ^^FFI,IN AXI) COMPANY 
 
 Cfie r.i\icrBiOc ^9rcg8, CambriDflt
 
 Copyright, 1892, 
 By WILLIAM ROSCOE THAYER. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 The Birerside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. 
 Elertiotyiied and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company.
 
 CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. 
 
 BOOK FIRST. 
 THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 CHAP. PAOS 
 
 I. ROMAN AND BARBARIAN 1 
 
 II. CHARLEMAIN AND THE SPELL OF ROME . . . IG 
 
 III. DEVELOPMENT OF STATE AND CHURCH . . . . 'J3 
 
 IV. MANY REPUBLICS, BUT NO NATION .... 43 
 V. DANTE 0*2 
 
 VI. THE RENAISSANCE 60 
 
 VII. REACTION AND DECLINE 7li 
 
 VIII. SCIENCE AND FOLLY 8-J 
 
 IX. NEW VOICES AND REVOLUTION 1)5 
 
 BOOK SPXONI). 
 THE DOOM OF TYRANNY. 
 
 I. THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA 110 
 
 II. THE RETURN OF THE DESPOTS, 1814-15 . . .139 
 
 III. FOREIGN INTRIGUES 17'J 
 
 IV. CONSPIRACIES 190 
 
 V. NAPLES IN REVOLUTION, 1820 Iil5 
 
 VI. THE REVOLUTION IN PIEDMONT, 1821 .... 253 
 
 VII. RETRIBUTION ......... 279 
 
 VIII. UNDERCURRENTS, 1820-30 312 
 
 IX. THE REVOLUTIONS OF 18.31 342 
 
 BOOK THIRD. 
 WHILE GREGORY X\I PO.VriFICATES. 
 
 I. CONSPIRACY GETS ITS LK.\I)KK ...... 379 
 
 II. THE DEC.VDK OF CONTK.VDICTIONS, 1833-13 . 401 
 
 III. THE POLITICAL REFORM KUS ..... 129
 
 -.-t^}t 
 
 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 BOOK FIRST. 
 
 THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 Ahi serva Italia, di dolore ostello, 
 Nave senza nocchiere in g^an tenipesta, 
 Non donna di provincie, ma bordello ! 
 
 Dante, Purgatorio, vi, 76-78. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ROMAN AND BARBARIAN. 
 
 The gradual regeneration of the Italians during the 
 first half of the nineteenth century must be described, 
 like the convalescence of a patient from a long sickness, 
 by symptoms much more than by startling occurrences. 
 We must look for signs of progress in tlie as})irations 
 rather than in the achievements of any conspicuous haul- 
 ers. For this movement was inward and subtle ; and its 
 outward expression in deeds was stubboridy roin-csscd. 
 In order, therefore, to tell truthfully this very significant 
 episode in the life of modern Europe, I shall draw infor- 
 mation from many sources, passing fi-om the narration of 
 events to the biography of a re])res('ntative man, or ])aus- 
 ing*to examine a custom or a book, which may often serve 
 better than official dociuncnts to reveal the forces work- 
 ing below the surface in Italy. I shall be f()rtunat(> if 1 
 succeed by any means in recalling from the " dark back-
 
 2 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 ward and abysm of Time " the living motives and high 
 influences which, penetrating the Italian heart, revived 
 self-respect in it, and courage, and slowly fitted it to rise 
 from serfdom to independence. When a man reforms his 
 life, and, putting away his follies, rises to take his place 
 among the strong and righteous, we are edified : how 
 much greater, then, shoidd be our interest and edification 
 at beholding an entire people, who, long sunk in moral 
 and political misery, lift themselves into the comradeship 
 of their best neighbors. This spectacle, the noblest that 
 Europe has had to show in our century, unfolds itself to 
 our view as we follow the history of the modern Italians. 
 
 It is evident that in the brotherhood of states, as in 
 the family or the community, the welfare of all must be 
 attained through the excellence of each of the members 
 according to his qualities. Every wealding, every idler, 
 diminishes the common prosperity. To develop each in- 
 dividual to the utmost limit compatible with the general 
 weal is the goal towards which destiny urges mankind. 
 Hitherto, this process has residted in the formation of 
 strong individuals, and in concentrating and intensifying 
 the traits peculiar to each race ; for the first command- 
 ment given to every creature in the physical world is. Be 
 strong^ if thou wouldst survive. But individualism, when 
 unrestrained and unspiritualized by the recognition of a 
 larger communion of interests, is selfish and partial ; it 
 uses its strength brutishly ; its neighbor is not a brother, 
 but an enemy, to be robbed or crippled or enslaved. The 
 past has witnessed the endeavor of race after race to make 
 itself supreme by absorbing all the power of its fellows 
 and by holding them in subjection. But we stand on the 
 threshold of a new age, in which time and distance and 
 the barriers of Nature have been overcome ; when the 
 products of one land can be transported swiftly to other 
 lands, and when the utterances and events in one hemi- 
 sphere are known immediately in the other. And now
 
 ROMAN AND BARBARIAN. 3 
 
 we begin to perceive that the fate of each people is inter- 
 woven with that of all the rest. Interdependence is as 
 necessary as independence, and whatever law of trade, 
 whatever intriguing of diplomacy, aims only at selfish and 
 local gain^ though it seems for a time to benefit the ego- 
 tist, will inevitably weaken him, because it weakens his 
 neighbors. The swarm is harmed when a single bee is 
 harmed. The old politics took no note of this, nor have 
 present Ministries given heed to it ; but there is the fact, 
 and all the inventions which make commercial intercourse 
 easy, and disseminate knowledge, are prophetic of the ulti- 
 mate solidarity of mankind. A crime against one will at 
 last be seen to be a crime against all. 
 
 This being true, how could Europe have real health, so 
 long as one of her members — Italy — was sick ? Servi- 
 tude debases not only the slave, but the slave-owner and 
 those who abet him. What wealtli that Austria wrung 
 from the Italians could compensate her for the moral 
 slough — the cruelty and selfishness — into which she sank 
 in order to maintain her tyranny ? And what of France 
 and England, what of Prussia and Russia, who consented 
 to the degradation ? The Italian, too, must have a voice 
 in the Parliament of Nations ; he, too, must contribute to 
 the common treasure of humanity that which he, and no 
 other, was peculiarly adapted to produce. But first, lie 
 must be free, Italy must be an independent nation ; for 
 no man can speak the truth that is in him when the haiul 
 of an oppressor is upon his throat. 
 
 IIow came it to pass, then, that the Italians at the be- 
 ginning of the nineteenth century were not fi-ee ? that 
 they seemed an exhausted race, fit only to grind wheat 
 and press out oil to enrich their taskmasters ? To answer 
 these questions, and to imderstand the regenerative move- 
 ment which is the subject of the present woi-k. we must take 
 a rapid survey over the j)ast ; for in no other counliv was 
 the past so tenacious and so authoritative as in Italy.
 
 4 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Traditions there had the force of new and irresistible im- 
 pulses elsewhere ; men lived by memory alone ; customs, 
 feuds, aspirations, survived to shape conduct long after the 
 particular circumstances which begot them, or the condi- 
 tions which matured them, had ceased to exist. Just as, if 
 you drove a spade into Italian soil, you might uncover an 
 ancient statue or the fragment of a cyclopean ruin, so if 
 you but sci-aped the surface of an institution or a habit, 
 you might find that its roots shot deep into a remote an- 
 tiquity. Past and present seemed to grow side by side ; 
 you could never be sure that an influence was dead or that 
 a trait had been forgotten. When Rienzi would have 
 established a republic at Rome, he exhorted his hearers to 
 be stirred by the example of their forerunners, the Grac- 
 chi, though these had been dead fourteen hundred years, 
 and the world had been transformed. Imagine Hampden 
 appealing to Britons by their memory of Caractacus, or 
 Camille Desmoulins rousing the French by allusions to 
 Vercingetorix ! In Italy alone was this possible, and we 
 need therefore to know, at least in epitome, what was the 
 inheritance which the Italians of whom we are to treat 
 had received from their ancestors. 
 
 From the earliest times there had never been a united 
 Italian nation. The various tribes which occupied the 
 peninsula were conquered one by one by the Latins, wlio 
 carried Rome with them wherever they went, and who 
 succeeded, in the reign of Augustus, in converting Italy 
 into a uniform Roman state. After the age of the An- 
 tonines, — that Indian summer of prosperity and glory, — 
 the empire of Rome slowly fell asunder : within, vice and 
 luxury and civil factions corrupted its integrity and sapped 
 its vigor ; without, hosts of sturdy barbarians swept down 
 the frontier-bulwarks and surged on Rome itself, — till at 
 length Huns and Teutons had submerged the throne of 
 the Csesars, and lay like a flood over Italy. That calam- 
 ity seemed to portend the ruin of the world ; and, indeed,
 
 ROMAN AND BARBAKIAX. 5 
 
 for a long time after the waters had subsided, there seemed 
 no hope of reconstructing civilization out of the wreck. 
 The invaders mingling with their conquered subjects bred 
 a new race, which gradually differed in language and 
 character both from the Latin and the barbarian ; but the 
 Latin strain predominated in this new people, which was 
 the Italian. Our purpose does not require that we should 
 unravel the history of the centuries of confusion and re- 
 adjustment when not only Italy, but the whole Koman 
 world was shattered, and then rudely remodeled. 
 
 Peer into that time never so hard, you will scarcely dis- 
 cern a recognizable human face turned towards yours. 
 You will see only masses indistinctly, like waves through 
 a fog. Individual names there are, but they seem rather 
 the names of personified vices and ferocities than of ra- 
 tional beings. Deeds there are, but collective and ill- 
 defined, like the forces which slowly transform autumn 
 into winter. You know that between the fifth century and 
 the eleventh, European society was completely resmelted ; 
 that the battered metal of Paganism, ))eing fused in the 
 same furnace with Catholicnsm and Teutonism, produced 
 an alloy such as the world had never seen. You know 
 the chief traits of the new civil system, the chief dogmas 
 of the new religi(m ; and you repeat the names of a few 
 score kings, warriors, and popes, which stud that historical 
 waste like surveyor's stakes to mai-k distances and bounda- 
 ries. But to realize by the force of your imagination what 
 an individual man thought and was, so that he lives again 
 for ycm, is perha])s an impossible thing, (irowtli you see, 
 and change ; but you cannot (piickly perceive into what, 
 for on the surface tlu;re are only tiunults and wars, clia- 
 otic and incessant. You need not look for coni])lex mo- 
 tives ; the recorded actions of the men and women of the 
 Dark Age are almost always traceabk> to the elementary 
 apjH'tites of half-savage mankind, — to lust, to gi-eed. to i-e- 
 venge, to love of fighting. The law of the strongest rules ;
 
 G THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 the weak can get, and he expects, no mercy. Yet above 
 the din of clashing arms, if you listen attentively you can 
 hear the dull tapping of myriads of mattocks on the earth, 
 and the beating of flails on the threshing-floors, and the 
 thud of the woodman's axe in the forest ; for every year, 
 be there quiet or carnage, the soil must be tilled, the crops 
 sown, the harvests garnered, and the fuel stored, against 
 the coming of winter : and the nameless multitude of 
 serfs worked on, season after season, century after century, 
 silent, unquestioning, without hope, grinding the grain for 
 another to eat, pressing out the wine for another to drink. 
 Dynasties appeared and vaiiished, but the race of the 
 toilers, stretching back to the day when the first man tilled 
 the first patch of glebe, was permanent, and the sound of 
 its tools seemed to beat out a funeral march. The peas- 
 ant literally belonged to the earth, to be treated as a 
 natural force, like spring rains or summer heats. And a 
 few men, like to him in shape, but as unlike him in privi- 
 lege as the hawk is unlike the worm, came and took from 
 him the product of his labor. Himself but a better tool, 
 the peasant had spade and plough to his portion ; and 
 when, worn out with travail, he sank into the earth, or was 
 struck do\\'Ti by some trooi) of pillagers, his sons toiled in 
 his stead. Pathetic, unmurmuring delvers of the fields, 
 on your humble shoulders you bore the foundations of 
 great cities and mighty empires ; you bent your backs for 
 the arrogant tread of armies ; yet you, neglected and un- 
 civilized, were the corner-stone of civilization. How many 
 ages should you look down along the furrow and break 
 its clods, before you suspected that you too were human, 
 that you too were entitled to a share, not only of the wealth 
 you created, but also of all the excellencies of the worhl ? 
 Immemorial oppression has curved your spines earthwards, 
 but the time shall come when, erect once more, you shall 
 look any of your fellows in the eyes, and lifting your gaz(,' 
 upon the stars, you shall say, '' We, too, are partakers in
 
 ROMAN AND BARBARIAN. 7 
 
 the dignity of the universal scheme, of which these are 
 the tokens and tlie promise." 
 
 But during ^he Dark Age men dreamt not yet of this. 
 Society grew as grows the coral : at first, a shapeless mass ; 
 after a century it has put forth little prongs and shoots ; 
 after another, those shoots have lengthened into branches, 
 until at last it stands there an organic growth, shapely 
 and marvelous, with trunk and limbs and twigs. The social 
 organism which then took shape and became dominant in 
 Western Europe until the Frencli Revolution was Feudal- 
 ism. Its origin was Teutonic ; its fundamental principle, 
 Force. Each German tribe elected as chief its strongest 
 man. Part of the booty taken in war was distributed 
 among the tribe in common ; part was reserved for him. 
 As the tribe prospered, his power increased, and his sliare 
 of plunder — land, cattle, and captive enemies — descended 
 to his sons. Gradually, his office became hereditary, and 
 each tribesman swore to obey him, became '' his man." 
 
 In the course of three centuries the Franks had fought 
 their way to the front of the German tribes, and Charle- 
 main was their king. This extraordinary man, the last of 
 a family of vigorous soldiers, is well-nigh the only bi'ing 
 of that era whose personality can be made to live again ; 
 for he was not a monotone, nor the mere s]iigot of a single 
 vice or passion, but a man of many powers, excelling as 
 soldier, as statesman, and as patron of letters and educa- 
 tion, very human in his defects, and almost un])arall('led 
 in his influence upon history. I lis genius it was wliich 
 raised Feudalism into a world-system, at least for the 
 world of Christendom. Over all France, as far south as 
 the Ebro in Spain and as thi> Liris in Italy, over (iennany 
 to the Elbe and across Pannonia to the Theiss, stretched 
 his empire. Each district was governed ]»y a count or 
 duke whom he a])])ointe(l : antl lest the provincials should 
 imagine that distance c-ould dim his watchiuliiess or weaken 
 liis su})remacy, he sent every yi'ar two //li.^si oi- imperial
 
 8 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 inspectors among them, to report upon their condition and 
 to see that the viceroys were faithful in their stewardship. 
 Charlemain himself traveled constantly through his realm, 
 to inquire into the needs of his subjects, to dispense jus- 
 tice, to chastise rebels, and to fortify his outposts along 
 the borderland where his domain ended and the unexplored 
 wilderness of the barbarians began. Merciless to his ene- 
 mies, — did he not cause forty-five hundred Saxons to be 
 beheaded at Verden ? — he put aside his wrath when they 
 submitted, and treated them as his own people, suffering 
 them to retain their local customs, but imposing upon all 
 a uniform scheme of government and law. 
 
 The proof of Charlemain's extraordinary genius, and of 
 the suitableness of Feudalism to the needs of that age, 
 lies in the fact that, before the end of his forty years' 
 reign, a larger part of Western Europe was reduced to or- 
 derly government than had been for nearly five centuries. 
 In an epoch when physical force was the supreme test, a 
 system based on force came to be adopted. Charlemain 
 had approved himself the strongest man in Christendom, 
 as his lieutenants acknowledged by becoming his vassals. 
 Each received his province or his estate directly from the 
 sovereign, on condition that he should furnish a stipulated 
 number of troops when the sovereign required them. 
 Each great vassal, or over-lord, then subdivided his terri- 
 tory among other vassals on the same terms, and these 
 again to others, do^\^l to the petty knight who had but a 
 few score acres and half a dozen fighting retainers, and 
 lower still to the simple freeman who had only his o^vn 
 sword to serve with. Below all these were the serfs, too 
 humble to be reckoned in this scheme : like cattle, they 
 went with the soil and were powerless to choose their mas- 
 ters. Force being the arbiter and self-preservation being 
 the strongest instinct, it behooved every man to get as 
 much force on his side as he could : the weak therefore 
 turned to the strong and voluntarily accepted him as liege,
 
 ROMAN AND BARBARIAN. U 
 
 and was promised protection in return for personal ser- 
 vice. By this strange chain, made up of links of regu- 
 larly diminishing size, — the largest firmly riveted in tlie 
 suzerainty of the emperor, the smallest desperately clutched 
 by the poor freeman, — was society once more held to- 
 gether. So long as the sovereign was Charlemain, a man 
 not only preeminently strong but also just and wise withal. 
 Feudalism was a system capable of promoting civilization 
 by restraining the violent ; by soothing the terrors of the 
 weak ; by uniting all classes against the attacks of their 
 common enemies, the Huns on the east and the Saracens 
 on the south ; by awakening in all that sense of mutual 
 interdependence without which nations can be neither 
 compact nor concoi'dant ; and by affording a ready means 
 of communication between the head and the members. A 
 beneficial system, we must pronounce it, so long as the 
 head was strong and just ; when, however, the head was 
 weak or wicked, or both, as soon came to pass. Feudalism 
 proved most efficacious in exasperating the very evils it 
 should have quelled. 
 
 Feudalism is the contribution made by the Teutonic 
 races to the ai-t of government. At the time when it 
 reached its growth under Charlemain, another power, dif- 
 ferent alike in origin and nature, but even more tremen- 
 dous in its effects, rose to share the dominion of the west- 
 ern world. This power was Roman Christianity. The 
 teachings of Christ, early transplanted to Kome, grew up 
 tliere in a forui determined by the character of the Ko- 
 mans. Their genius, markedly adniiuistrative and legal, 
 imposed upon tlie new church an intricate system of gov- 
 ernment and a sharply defined, dogmatic ex})ression. The 
 necessities of tliost; early Christians, wlio were now toler- 
 ated under sufferance and now ix'rscrutcd without nicicy, 
 intensifu'd their natural tcnih'ncy as Hoinaus towards a 
 compact organization and a rigid creed. You will look 
 in vain amon<r the recorded utterances of .Jesus for any
 
 10 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 sanction of a hierarchy, for any authorization of papal or 
 ecclesiastical rule. You will find that Christ invariably 
 addressed the individual conscience. He came to call sin- 
 ners to repentance, not by scaring them into heaven through 
 a fear of hell, but by revealing to them that righteousness 
 alone can give lasting peace and strength to the soul. And 
 he spoke not according to tradition, after the manner of 
 Scribes and Pharisees, but out of his immediate conviction 
 that virtue and right and love are absolute and eternal, 
 not to be affected nor diminished by the opinions men may 
 hold about them. The assent of Moses or Solomon could 
 not make truth one jot more true ; nor could the decree 
 of the Sanhedrim make an unjust act just. Spiritual laws 
 are absolute ; they operate immediately, whether we at- 
 tend to them or not ; they were in the past, from the begin- 
 ning ; they are in the present ; they will be in the future ; 
 they pervade all time, but they are above time. And just 
 as the physical laws discovered by Kepler and Newton 
 were not born at the moment of discovery, so the spiritual 
 laws unfolded by Christ did not originate with him ; bet- 
 ter than any one else, he knew that their authority came 
 not from him, but from the Centre and Source of Life. By 
 a method which has fitly been called the method of " sweet 
 reasonableness," he explained these spiritual verities, and, 
 what was immeasurably more important, he illustrated 
 them by the example of his own life. Let us not suppose 
 that virtue was first taught by the gentle Galilean, — wise 
 men had long before confessed her in many lands, and 
 many men had led good and noble lives, — but Jesus pro- 
 claimed that all men are equal before God, and that the 
 individual conscience is judged directly by the eternal laws 
 of the Spirit. You are better or worse, not in proportion 
 as men think well or ill of you, but as you obey or dis- 
 obey the Inner Voice. The rank and prestige of the in- 
 dividual avail nothing in the presence of these impartial 
 laws. He who follows them, though he be a slave, has
 
 ROMAN AND BAKBARIAX. 11 
 
 the spiritual strength which they alone can bestow ; he 
 who departs from them, though he be a Caesar, loses their 
 support, and in»that deprivation is punished. The equality 
 of the moral law and the judgment of conscience, — these 
 are Christ's teachings, and they condemn the interposition 
 of any third party, any church or spiritual attorney. I 
 can as soon picture him being borne in gorgeous papal 
 apparel into St. Peter's, or, disguised in the worldly pomp 
 of the Archbishop of Canterbury, holding a levee at Lam- 
 beth Palace, as I can believe he meant to sanction the 
 clerical machinery and dogmas which grew up under his 
 name, and which, under various forms, still pass for Chris- 
 tianity. 
 
 Christ appealed at first to simple, earnest men, wlio 
 needed but to have the truth put clearly, and to see it 
 exemplified in his actions, in order to accept it. No mira- 
 cles, the stage-thunder of religion, were neceseary to per- 
 suade them ; those were later devices for terrifying or 
 astonishing minds less spiritual into belief, — minds that 
 required a sign, minds that could be cou\anced that Jesus 
 was the Lord, as they heard him called, only after they 
 were assured that he had turned natural laws topsy-turvy 
 and wrought wonders more amazing than those attributed 
 to the gods of other nations. As if the recognition that, 
 in both the spiritual and pliysieal world, huTmouy and 
 order prevail to attest the majesty and wisdom of (iod 
 were not immeasurably more religions than tlic belief in 
 any scheme of afterthoughts, interru])ti()ns. and wliinis ! 
 As if the turning of water into wine, or the feeding of a 
 multitude with a few loaves and iishes. were ('()ni])arable 
 to the miracle of that career of holiness and self-al)nega- 
 tion, or to tliat Sermon on the Mount which has fui-nished 
 food to millions of souls, yet cannot be exhausted ! But 
 men cannot long live tlu; free life of the s])irit. in whitdi 
 virtue is its own witness and justilication : bcfoie the end 
 of the lirst century, Christianity had fallen from its j)urt'.
 
 12 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 spontaneous estate. The fiery genius of Paul had molten 
 the spiritual ore and cast it into metaphysical moulds, and 
 the Christian communities which sprang up in various 
 parts of the Roman Empire made doctrinal agreement, 
 rather than conduct, the test of orthodoxy. Paul, be it 
 never forgotten, was the Oriental dragoman who inter- 
 preted Christ's message to the Greek and Latin world ; 
 and Paul, preeminently an orator and a logician, could 
 not help adding arguments, the character of which was 
 determined by his temi^erament, as he translated. Christ, 
 a Jew, with the Jewish power of illustrating abstract truths 
 by vivid concrete examples, had often spoken in parables ; 
 but over and over again he had warned his disciples that 
 the truth lay in the spirit and not in the letter. Never- 
 theless, owing partly to the natural tendency of men to 
 mistake the sv^nbol for the reality, and partly to the fact 
 that an uncritical age attaches fantastic and mystical 
 significance to the plainest words and deeds, Christianity 
 soon began to petrify into literalism. 
 
 Nowhere was this more apj^arent than among the Ro- 
 mans, masters in rules and codes. During the first three 
 centuries the Roman bishop enjoyed no acknowledged pre- 
 cedence over the bishops of Africa and the East ; but 
 when Christianity was decreed by Constantine to be the 
 State religion, the authority of the Roman bishop gained 
 great prestige in fact, if not in the official recognition of 
 the other churches. The Bishop of Antioch or of Alex- 
 andria might still claim independence, but the Bishop of 
 Rome spoke from the capital of the Emi)ire, and he already 
 represented a larger number of Christians than belonged 
 to any other diocese. The rapid increase in the member- 
 ship of the Roman Church required a strong organization ; 
 and whereas in early days each community had chosen its 
 minister, the power to elect now passed out of the hands 
 of the congregation and was usurped by the priests, who 
 elected their superiors, and these in their turn elected the
 
 ROMAN AND BARBARIAN. 13 
 
 Bishop of Rome. Then sprang up a sacerdotal clan, which 
 arrogated to itself complete jurisdiction over the govern- 
 ment and tenets of the church. A chasm as wide as that 
 which separates the pariah from the brahmin sei)arated 
 priest from layman in this hierarchical system modeled 
 upon Roman imperialism. 
 
 When the Empire was divided by the establishment of 
 a second capital at Byzantium, the authority of the Pope 
 over Italy and Western Europe was naturally extended, 
 and when the Western Empire fell asunder, it was ecpiaUy 
 natural that the people of Rome and its neighborhood 
 should rally to the spiritual head of Rome for that protec- 
 tion which the civil government could no longer give. Even 
 the barbarians respected him, and as they settled on Italian 
 soil and became Christians, they turned to him as their re- 
 ligious arbiter and guide. Nominally, the emperor at Con- 
 stantinople protected the church at Rome, but actually the 
 Romans in those grievous days had to protect themselves, 
 whether by propitiating tlie temporary conqueror or by 
 striving to resist him. Among the incessant tumults and 
 changes, nothing was stable, notliing permanent, except 
 the rule of the Poj^e. His spiritual authority, transmitted 
 from successor to successor, could not be affected by tem- 
 poral vicissitudes. The man might be driven from Rome, 
 but the office embodied in liiui was beyond the hazard of 
 his personal fortunes. Privileges and property once nc- 
 quired by or bequeathed to the clmn-h did not lapsi'. for 
 the church was perpetual. 
 
 From the fifth to the eighth conturv, the Bisli()])s of 
 Rome establislied their spiritual .suprcuiacy in Italy. Kvcu 
 the Iconoclastic Controversy in which they engngcd with 
 the Eastern Church ended in stnnigthening them. The 
 Greek Christians were the more specuhitivr and mystical : 
 was it not natural that the religion of a land where the 
 language and literatui-e of the race which had excelled in 
 philosophy .still flourislunl should be clotluHl ujion with
 
 14 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 philosophical wraps ? The Latins, on the contrary, had 
 produced no philosopher ; they were logical and practical, 
 caring more for things than for thoughts ; they knew the 
 value of visible images and symbols in helping dull imagi- 
 nations to perceive religious dogmas. The Popes who 
 refused to prohibit the use of idols acted in harmony with 
 the genius of the Latin people, and they lightened the task 
 of converting the heathen natives of Western Europe to 
 Christianity. A missionary who could show an image of 
 St. Peter or of Christ to the Teutonic barbarian was much 
 more likely to be understood than another who labored 
 with words to make abstractions plain. 
 
 This assertion of independence not only enhanced the 
 prestige of the Roman bishop, but also fixed upon the 
 Koman Church that reverence for symbols which, exag- 
 gerated at later periods, became the substitutes for inner 
 spiritual devoutness. But the Popes soon had to cope 
 with nearer and more dangerous enemies than the Byzan- 
 tine emperor. They were hard bestead by the Lombards, 
 those long-bearded warriors who conquered Northern Italy 
 in the sixth century, and spreading southward to Spoleto 
 and Benevento menaced the patrimony of St. Peter it- 
 self. There being no champion for him in Italy, the Pope 
 sought succor across the Alps of Charles Martel, king in 
 all but name of the Prankish nation. Before Charles 
 could descend into Lombardy and punish the tormentors 
 of the Pope, he died. His son, Pepin the Short, succeeded 
 him; deposed Childeric III, last of the do-nothing kings 
 of the Merovingian line (752) ; was cro^vned by the Arch- 
 bishop of Mayence, the Pope's representative ; and ere- 
 long he compelled the Lombards to submit. This league 
 of amity between the Popes and the Carolingians is the 
 most important fact in the history of that age. It con- 
 firmed the papal power in Italy ; it established the prece- 
 dent that the Pope's sanction of a monarch beyond the 
 Alps was, if not absolutely indispensable, a source of
 
 ROMAN AND BARBARIAN. 15 
 
 strength and dignity ; it showed that the influence of the 
 Byzantine emperors over the affairs of Western Europe 
 was virtually dead ; it fixed Roman Christianity, to the 
 exclusion of Arianism, on the west. Ambition would 
 doubtless have been a sufficient motive for urging the 
 Frankish kings to subdue the Lombards ; but this league, 
 by making them the champions and defenders of the Ro- 
 man Church, gave to their ambition a holier aspect, and 
 thenceforward the spread of Christianity coincided with 
 the extension of their dominion over the barbaric tribes.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 CHARLEMAIN AND THE SPELL OF ROME. 
 
 Pepin was followed by his greater son Charlemain, who, 
 as we have seen, brought Central and Western Europe 
 under his sway and organized Feudalism as an imperial 
 system. His genius, his methods, his traditions were Teu- 
 tonic, but these did not prevent him from feeling the spell 
 of an influence which had begun to fascinate the imagina- 
 tions of men long before Teuton or Hun had emerged from 
 primitive savagery. " What 's in a name ? " exclaimed 
 the lovesick heroine of Verona. " Everything ! " experi- 
 ence might have replied to her ; for " the generality of 
 mankind is wholly and absolutely governed by words and 
 names, without — nay, for the most part, even against — 
 the knowledge men have of things." ^ The name which 
 captivated Charlemain, which dazzled the world for well- 
 nigh two thousand years, — from the fifth century before 
 to the fifteenth century after Christ, — was Rome. Among 
 all the names uttered by men, only one other has been 
 more potent. 
 
 Roma ! There is the history of our Western races in 
 these four letters. The stories of Greece and Palestine, 
 of Carthage and Egypt, are as rivers which flow do\\'n 
 from remote regions into a great lake called Home. An- 
 tiquity is a vast ravine, from one side of which to the other 
 reverberates the magic word Rome. A hundred and sixty 
 years before the Christian era, the fame of the Romans 
 was sounding through all the lands then kno^\Ti. Tribes 
 which had never seen them knew that '' they were mighty 
 ^ Robert South, A Sermon preached May 9, 1GS6.
 
 CHARLEMAIN AND THE SPELL OF KOMK. 17 
 
 and valiant men." Judas Maccabaeus, the last hero of 
 Jewish independence, bade his countrymen in their dis- 
 tress to seek t'lie friendship of that invulnerable people 
 who had their citadel on the distant Tiber. He related 
 how " they destroyed and brought under their dominion 
 all other kingdoms and isles that at any time resisted them, 
 but with their friends and such as relied upon them they 
 kept amity ; and that they had conquered kingdoms both 
 far and nigh, insomuch as all that heard of their name 
 were afraid of them ; also that, whom they would help 
 to a kingdom, those reign ; and whom again they would, 
 they displace ; finally, that they were greatly exalted ; yet 
 for all this none of them wore a crown, or was clothed in 
 purple to be magnified." ^ Thereafter, during more than 
 four hundred years, victory upon victory, advance upon 
 advance, added significance and lustre to the name of 
 Rome, until the Pict among the chilly mists of Shetland, 
 and the Hindoo in the jungles of Bengal, had seen the 
 flash of Roman breast])lates ; and tlie nomads of Yemen 
 and Sahara knew that far away in the centre of the world 
 there was a nation invincible and terrible, whose arm was 
 long and whose grasj) was firm. This wonderful nation 
 had taken up the gate-posts of civilization and set them 
 down many hundred leagues ahead. Kingdoms which had 
 sufficed for the ambition of Darius or the Ptolemies were 
 mere segments in the great circle wliich Koine <leseri])ed 
 upon three continents. The em])ire of Alexander was but 
 a ])r()vince ; the realm of Hannibal was but a ])i'()e()nsulate. 
 Kivei's and mountains were no bari-iers to hei- : over those 
 leaped her bridges, over these wound her highways. She 
 ])enetrated foi-ests and left them eornlields behind lu'r. 
 Her shi])s rode su])rem(^ in every ])<)rt. It si'enied that 
 genius thi'ougli all the past had been nneonseionsly work- 
 ing for her embellishment; tliat the Athenian sculptors 
 had wrought statues to adorn her ])alaees, and that The- 
 
 1 1 M;uc;il..-cH. viii. 11-14.
 
 18 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 ban Pharaohs had hewn obelisks to commemorate her 
 triumphs. 
 
 Think of the thirty generations which went into the 
 augmenting of that power which we sum up in the single 
 word Home ! Think of the reputations, each a splendid 
 star, whose several brightness was merged into the bright- 
 ness of his fellows, to compose that galaxy which spread over 
 a large part of the firmament of history, and will excite the 
 wonder of mankind forever. Regulus and Collatinus, the 
 Scipios and the Gracchi, Marius and Sulla, Cato and Ci- 
 cero, Caesar and Pompey, Augustus and Hadrian, Trajan, 
 Agricola and Aurelius, — these are but a few whose mag- 
 nitude we have measured and named. But in the sound 
 of that word Rome there is also the tramp of a thousand 
 legions, there is the din of countless victories, there are 
 the commands of dauntless forgotten generals and the de- 
 crees of innumerable lawgivers. No single genius lifted 
 the fame of Rome to the stars, but the valor and energy 
 and patience of a whole people, the conceited effort of 
 nameless multitudes, who were not impelled by a sudden 
 frenzy of conquest nor disheartened by a lost campaign, 
 but who advanced slowly, steadil}^ rhythmically, as with 
 the step of Fate. Rome conquered because she was strong ; 
 and she drew her strength from the integrity and patriot- 
 ism of her sons during many successive generations. So 
 strong was she that even her decline bore witness to her 
 deep-rooted grandeur. Alexander, Napoleon, ceased to 
 be, and their empire was as if they had never been ; but 
 Rome in her dissolution threatened the ruin of the world. 
 Gi'adually, through four hundred years, luxury and vice 
 stole vigor from her body and resoluteness from her soul, 
 yet men still believed that she could not die ; and she had 
 lain dead in her palace already for a long season ere the 
 bai'barians dared to enter and look upon her corpse.^ 
 
 1 The real fall of Rome was in A. d. 397, when Theodoslus died. Alaric, 
 the first invader who had entered the city since Brennus, just eight hundred
 
 CHAKLEMAIN AND THE SPELL OF KOMK. 19 
 
 But even death could not destroy the magic of the name 
 of Rome. Fie«d from the limitations of fact, it lived as 
 a disembodied spirit with an immortal existence which 
 covdd not be assailed by the shock of mortal change. It 
 had now, like a Miltonic archangel, that attribute of vague- 
 ness through which conceptions too vast for precise state- 
 ment loom terrible or sublime. The visible empire still 
 survived at Constantinople, but how weak and narrow it 
 was compared with that idea of empire in which all that 
 Rome had been was expressed I The degenerate Romans, 
 and the barbarians who settled among them, alike deenied 
 that idea to be a part of the universal order, just as the 
 Sim and seasons were ; even though now invisible, they 
 thought that it still held mankind together. The northern 
 savages showed their reverence for it by the eagerness 
 with which they sought to legitimize their conquests by 
 obtaining for themselves the title of Roman Patrician ; 
 but they did not yet dare to assume the title of P2m])eror, 
 although had one of them — Odoacer, for instance — done 
 so, he could hardly have been prevented. 
 
 In the ears of Charlemain, however, that name Roma 
 was continually resounding, and before his mind's eye that 
 ideal of empire kept passing, vivid and seductive. He 
 was more than king, for he had many kings to his vassals ; 
 he had reduced under his sway a large ])art of wliat had 
 been the Roman Empire, and had established tlien-in a 
 uniform, stern government. He was, mf)r(M>ver. the cliam- 
 pion of the religion which, sj)readiiig from Rome, was fast 
 converting the West. All that lie needed was the ])restige 
 of that title with which were associated tlie highest reach 
 of human power and the maintenance of civilization itself. 
 And wlien the PojX', repi-esenting the citizens of Rome, 
 declared that the Legitimate line of Kastein einjx'rors had 
 la})sed through the crimes ot" Ii'cne. a woman who had 
 
 years bofon*. sivckt'd Kotik; in 110. Knimilus Au^'-usttiliis. tln' Lust pli.iiitoiu 
 emperor, was deposed by Odoacer in tT'!.
 
 20 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 usurped the Byzantine throne, and that the Romans, exer- 
 cising their ancestral right to elect an emperor, had chosen 
 Charlemain, the ambition of the Frankish conqueror was 
 realized. Just what motives led to this epoch-making act 
 we cannot say. The Pope may have been moved by grati- 
 tude for a monarch by whom he had been succored ; he 
 may have hoped to secure good-will and protection for 
 the future ; he may have wished to assert in this decisive 
 fashion the independence of the Western Church from 
 the nominal dictation of the Eastern emperors ; or he may 
 have merely intended to acknowledge that one who de- 
 served the title of emperor should wear it. Certainly, had 
 Charlemain commanded, nobody could have resisted him. 
 The most natural reasons are probably nearest the truth. 
 In after times, when history was rewritten by papal par- 
 tisans, who, disregarding fact and unabashed by anachro- 
 nisms, assigned purposes retrospectively, so as to give pre- 
 sent issues the semblance of past authority, they claimed 
 that Charlemain derived his imperial rights from the Pope, 
 and that the emperors were therefore subordinate to the 
 Popes. But we may well doubt whether Charlemain would 
 have admitted or Stephen have pressed this claim on that 
 Christmas day, a. d. 800, when the pontiff, rising in the 
 basilica of St. Peter's, " advanced to where Charles, who 
 had exchanged his simple Frankish dress for the sandals 
 and the ehlamys of a Roman patrician, knelt in prayer by 
 the high altar, and as, in the sight of all, he placed upon 
 the brow of the barbarian chieftain the diadem of the 
 Caesars, then bent in obeisance before him, the church 
 rang to the shouts of the nudtitude, again free, again the 
 lords and centre of the world, ' Karolo Auguf>to a Deo 
 coronato magno et pacijico imjjeratori vita et victoria.'' " ^ 
 The consequences of this act have not yet ceased to be 
 felt. Its immediate effect was to confirm and extend the 
 power of the Pope. The Roman form of Christianity 
 ^ Bryce, Holy Roman Empire, p. 49.
 
 CHARLEMAIN AND THE SPELL OF ROME. 21 
 
 became thenceforth established as the State religion of the 
 West, and tlic Konian Church had the aid of the secular 
 ruler in stamping out heresy and in pushing its missions 
 heathenwards. The Emperor gained on his side whatt^ver 
 advantage imagination and tradition attached to his title ; 
 he gained also in being the official champion of the 
 Church. His wars of conquest might now be defended 
 by the plea of religious zeal, and he might strengthen his 
 administration by persuading the Pojjc to punish with 
 spiritual instruments the refractory subjects who would 
 not obey the imperial command. 
 
 This partnership on equal terms between Church and 
 State was very simple in theory, God, it was believed, 
 had intrusted the governing of mankind to two heads, one 
 of whom, the Pope, should direct the sj)iritual, while the 
 other, the Emperor, should direct the temporal affairs of 
 men. Each should be sui)reme in his own province ; but 
 since the spiritual and the temporal arc as closely allied 
 as body and soul, their governments must be harmonious, 
 one supplementing and prop])ing that of the other. These 
 twin monarehs were equally necessary and equally venera- 
 ble, and only in the sense that the soul is higher than the 
 body could the Pope be said to l)e sujxn-ior to the Empe- 
 ror. God is universal ; therefore the goveniiiient which 
 represents Ilim on earth must be universal. In antiquity 
 only one nation succeeded in mastering tlie then known 
 world ; that nation was the Konian. and the breadth and 
 power of its em})ire proved tliat (iod ordained it to l>e the 
 model of civil government. Latci. when He had revealed 
 I lis scheme of salvation, lie eonfided it to tlie Roman 
 Churcli to i)resei've and disseininate. Since that schmie 
 a})plie(l to all men, the Church must l)e universal, eter- 
 nal, and catholic ; and as tlici-c was but one scheme, thci'c 
 conlil be but one true religion : the Ivoinan was therctore 
 the sole guardian of orthodoxy. 
 
 Thus, at the be^Innim;- of the ninth ccnturv, wi' lincl
 
 22 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 society in Western Christendom constituted under two 
 strangely derived systems, that of Feudalism, Teutonic in 
 origin and nature, but now popularly supposed to be the 
 perpetuator of the Roman Empire ; and that of Chris- 
 tianity, a Hebrew product, transformed through the genius 
 of the Latin race into a genuine Roman institution. Rome 
 had never created a world-religion. She imposed her laws, 
 but not her creed, upon the tribes she overcame. She had 
 persecuted the early Christians, not because they held odd 
 doctrines, but because they denied the authority and dis- 
 turbed the peace of the Roman State. Yet now, the real 
 Rome being dead, her spirit was to circulate among man- 
 kind in a world-religion, and the mere tradition of her 
 grandeur was to give lustre to an empire utterly unlike 
 her own. Marvelous people of the Tiber, none other that 
 ever trod the earth has left upon it footprints so deep as 
 yours ! Dead but sceptred kings, who from your urns 
 have ruled the spirits of a long posterity, the might of 
 your genius shall be active among men until the last 
 Romish priest shall have said his last mass, and the last 
 candle shall flicker on the altar.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 DEVELOPMENT OF STATE AND CHURCH. 
 
 At the beginning of the ninth century, therefore, West- 
 ern Europe has issued from chaos, and feels the need and 
 benefit of a dual restraint. It looks up to a Roman Pope 
 and a German-Roman Emperor. There exists at Constan- 
 tinople another Emperor calling himself Roman, and a 
 Church claiming to be Christian and catholic ; but the 
 Western Emperor troubles himself little about the former, 
 and the Pope brands the latter as schismatic. Local in- 
 terests tend more and more to separate the East from the 
 West in spirit, and a broad zone inhabited by barbarians 
 keeps them asunder in fact. European history, so far as 
 it concerns us, is henceforth the history of the West, and 
 if we think of the Byzantine Empire at all, we think of it 
 as sinking deeper and deeper into Asiatic lethargy, which 
 the terrible warriors of Othman shall at last plunge into 
 the sleep from which no man wakes. Of the events in 
 Western Europe itself that belong to the Middle Age, 
 the epoch between Charlemain and Dante, we can refer 
 to only a few of the most important which directly or 
 indirectly moulded the destiny of Italy. 
 
 Im])erialisni and Catliolicism, whose c()m])act liad been 
 so joyfully celebrated, worked togctlicr as allies l)ut a 
 short time, then their se])arate ambitions and tlieir con- 
 flicting interests goaded tlieiii to inteiiiecine rivalry. Soon 
 after Charlemain's death tlie empire was split into tlu-ee 
 fragments. The western ])oition, eonipiising Xeustria 
 and Acpiitaine, — a considerable ])art of what was later 
 France, — fell to Charles the Bald ; a central stiip, run-
 
 24 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 ning from the North Sea to what was anciently Latium 
 and including the two imperial capitals, Aix-la-ChapeUe 
 and Rome, was given to Lothair ; the provinces east of 
 the Khine were the share of Louis, surnamed the German. 
 These three rulers were the grandsons of Charlemain. 
 Lothair had the title of Emperor and of King of Italy. 
 And now it was seen that the feudal system could not, in 
 spite of Charlemain's precautions and foresight, maintain 
 a uniform government over Western Europe. Not only 
 did the mutual jealousy of the three brothers prevent them 
 from forming a common union, but also centrifugal forces 
 too strong to be overcome had been set in motion in each 
 kingdom. The great feudatories, who as dukes, counts, 
 and marquises, had governed the outlying provinces of 
 the Empire and had been checked by Charlemain, now, 
 under weaker sovereigns, established themselves as he- 
 reditary lords, and aspired to independence. The king, 
 whether in France or in Germany, had a smaller territory 
 than that of his great vassals ; he could keep them obedi- 
 ent only by keeping them disunited. On the whole, the 
 royal power expanded in France and dwindled in Ger- 
 many ; and for this reason, — the king of the former was 
 hereditary, of the latter elective. 
 
 While the Capetians were slowly subduing their great 
 vassals and bringing more and more land to the royal 
 domain, the German monarchs had to cope not only with 
 refractory nobles at home, but also with Huns, Slavs, and 
 Scandinavians abroad. The sceptre passed from family 
 to family ; those who failed to receive it by election envied 
 the successful and resisted their efforts to ^rect a dynasty. 
 Perhaps it was still more important that the German king- 
 was also the Holy Roman Emperor ; for this union of offices 
 involved him in difficulties with tlie Pope, and it further 
 embarrassed him with the affairs of Italy. Having been 
 cliosen by the electors, he must proceed to Milan to be 
 crowned with the Iron Crown of the Lombard kings, and
 
 DEVELOPMENT OF STATE AND CHUUCM. 25 
 
 thence to Rome to be anointed Emperor by the Pope. 
 Time wrought* swift changes in the land south of the 
 Alps. New States grew up, each craving independence, 
 and the interval between one imperial visit and the next 
 being often long, the Italians began to lose respect for the 
 nominal suzerainty of their foreign Emperor. But the 
 spell of Italy had a fatal fascination for those German 
 kings. They pursued the southward-flying i)hantom, leav- 
 ing in the Alpine passes and on the Italian plains the 
 withered flower of their armies. That will-o'-the-wisp 
 enticed them on and on, but always settled at last over a 
 graveyard. 
 
 What was the magic by which Power — the reality 
 they pursued — eluded them? Italy seemed to flourish 
 in spite of internal discord ; proud cities and fertile ])lan- 
 tations covered the peninsula, and the Italians who en- 
 joyed them were merchants and prelates rather than war- 
 riors. Yet when the Emperor came to demand them as 
 his due, they slipped from his grasp. The oily state-craft 
 of the Italians countervailed the slow force of the Ger- 
 mans ; the subtle sunshine of the South bred a ])estilence 
 more deadly than an armored foe, and whom pestilence 
 spared, voluptuousness dispatched. IIannil)al, too, had 
 found the ease of Capua more formidable than Sci})io's 
 legions at Cannae. Nevertheless, though baffled time after 
 time and undone, the German kings persisted in their 
 hopeless task; when the vision of Italy hovered before 
 them, like men in whom the desire for strong drink re- 
 turns too tempting to be controlled, they gave uj) all for 
 that. Triumphs they had, indeed, but they were tem- 
 porary trium])hs ; for while tlie (lernian sovereign was 
 making or deposing Popes, and forcing the Italians to do 
 him homage, his restless vassals and enemies at home 
 si'i/ed tile occasion of liis al)sence to sow .-('(lit ion or to 
 hasten attack. The league ht'tween tiie I'^nijiire an<l tiie
 
 26 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Church inevitably brought blight and disaster to the 
 Empire.^ 
 
 The power which circumvented the Emperors in Italy, 
 the power with which southern sunshine and voluptuous- 
 ness seemed to connive, was the Papacy, the most adroit, 
 the most plausible institution which has ever influenced 
 for ages together the fortunes of men. In its effects ma- 
 terial, in its essence intangible, the Church of Rome for- 
 feited the high prerogative of spirituality and preferred 
 worldliness, from the day when a Pope first thrust himself 
 into competition with temporal rulers. " Where your 
 treasure is, there will your heart be also," is Christ's 
 warning ; the treasure which, for a thousand years past, 
 the Popes have coveted and hoarded has been of the earth, 
 and here have been their hearts. " No man can serve 
 two masters : for either he will hate the one and love the 
 other, or else he will hold to the one and despise the 
 other. Ye cannot serve God and Mammon." ^ During 
 more than a millennium the Papacy has been engaged in 
 reconciling its service of two masters ; while raising one 
 hand in the worship of God, it has stretched forth the 
 other to catch the bounty of Mammon, and in this conflict 
 of allegiance, its zeal, except at rare intervals, has been 
 on the side of God's adversary. But the purpose of the 
 historian is not merely to pass verdicts on creeds and 
 systems ; it is rather to study the conditions amid which 
 these rose and flourished, in order the better to under- 
 stand that elemental human nature from which all reli- 
 gions and polities spring, and to furnish examples for the 
 instruction of our own and after times. Little will it profit 
 us if we imagine that Feudalism or Papalism, which to-day 
 we have reason to condemn, was never useful. For better 
 or for worse, these and all other systems were once the best, 
 
 ^ Four emperors died in Italy : two others just after tliey had recrossed 
 the Alps. 
 
 ■•^ Matthew, vi, 24.
 
 DEVELOPMENT OF STATE AND CHURCH. 27 
 
 and by their scope and effects we can measure the period 
 in which they were the best. We may prefer June to 
 December, but December also has its bleak chapter in the 
 chronicle of the year. 
 
 The expansion of the Roman Church into the Roman 
 Papacy was as natural as the expansion of the bishopric of 
 Rome into the spiritual dictatorship of Western Christen- 
 dom. The Church early acquired property in and near the 
 Holy City, and wherever a monastery was founded it owned 
 and tilled land. Princes made piopitiatory gifts ; the faith- 
 ful bequeathed money and estates. Chailemain exacted 
 the payment of tithes to the priesthood, and in other ways 
 fostered the institution of which he was proud to call 
 himself the defender. The Popes soon exercisetl a moral 
 influence in temporal concerns ; they settled quarrels be- 
 tween rival claimants, and their sanction often outweighed 
 military force. It was of course inevitable that their de- 
 cision should be biased by their interests, that they should 
 sincerely favor those who favored the Church. In theory 
 the Empire was universal, coextensive with the Church, but 
 its early partition, leaving the Emperor suzerain of but a 
 portion of Charlemain's realm, created local and mutually 
 hostile interests, while the Church remained unchanged, 
 and had everywhere the same work to accomplish. It 
 was a corporation with a perpetual charter, and it guarded 
 its temporal possessions with a spiritual authority which 
 even violent men in lawless times rarely dared to attack. 
 And since the German king must be consecrated by the 
 Pope before he could legally bear the title of Holy Ko- 
 man Emperor, the idea of equality soon gave ])l:iee to tlie 
 assumption that the P^mi)eror was infeiior to the P(>i)e ; 
 and lesser kings sometinuis aekjiowledged tlieir inleiioiity 
 by receiving tlieir crowns from the lionian legate. A 
 strong Eni])eroi- might deny the assuni])tions of the Pope, 
 and might make good liis own sujjreniacv. but hi>; stieiigth 
 died with him; whereas the Romisli jjower had a eontinu-
 
 28 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 ous life. The great ecclesiastics — the archbishops, bishops, 
 and abbots — were both temporal and spiritual lords. 
 Their clerical office or benefice was bestowed by the Pope ; 
 to the Emperor they did homage for their secular posses- 
 sions ; but in their allegiance they were clerics who labored 
 at all times to magnify the Church. In acquiring, they 
 were indifferently ecclesiastics or laymen ; in holding, 
 they were always ecclesiastics. If the secular sovereign 
 arraigned them as vassals, they took refuge behind their 
 inviolability as churchmen. Moreover, being often for- 
 eigners sent from Rome to promote Rome's interests, their 
 resistance to the temporal sovereign was all the more bit- 
 ter, in case of conflict between him and the Pope. 
 
 Evidently, the dual control as planned by Charlemain 
 and Stephen worked unequally. Feudalism, on which the 
 integrity of the empire was staked, proved too weak to 
 bind the members together subordinate to one head ; 
 whereas the organization of the Roman Church spread 
 in all directions, yet at the farthest point it was firmly 
 connected with the centre. The chief instrument in solidi- 
 fying the Church was the celibacy of the clergy. Whether 
 priest or friar, the churchman was forbidden to marry ; 
 freed, therefore, from the ties of home and the distrac- 
 tions and ambitions of family, he could devote his zeal 
 wholly to the Church. Whatever his nationality by birth, 
 he became by ordination a citizen of spiritual Rome. He 
 eschewed his native tongue and adopted Latin, the lan- 
 guage of the Church. His allegiance to a temporal prince 
 he exchanged for obedience, utter and unquestioning, to 
 the Pope. And when you multiply this churchman by 
 thousands, and multiply those thousands by hundreds, you 
 can estimate the vast army of clerical soldiers, all inspired 
 by the same purpose and drilled in the same tactics, that 
 made it possible for the Roman hierarchy to set up and 
 maintain its supremacy in every country of Western Eu- 
 rope. Thanks to that rule of celibacy, Romanism kept
 
 DEVELOPMENT OF STATE AND CHURCH. 29 
 
 its uniformity during the Middle Age, while Christendom 
 was gradually Joreaking up, through the ambition of dy- 
 nasties and development of nationalities, into separate 
 States. Had it not been for a celibate clergy, Britain 
 and France and Germany might each have had its na- 
 tional church, with its native head and clergy, indepen- 
 dent of the Pope at Home, whose jurisdiction would have 
 been confined to Italy. 
 
 This monstrous rule, whose influence on the politics 
 and morals of Christendom cannot be overestimated, must 
 not be passed by with a mere allusion, although this is 
 not the place in which to do more than indicate its effects. 
 Wherever you lay your finger on the degeneracy of Italian 
 character, there you will find evidence of the pernicious- 
 ness of sacerdotal celibacy which the Roman Church 
 adopted and still makes compulsory. It came into Eu- 
 rope from the far East in the days of the early Christians. 
 Asceticism commended itself to men who believed the 
 world of Matter to be the creation and province of Satan, 
 as the world of Spirit was of God, and that Satan was 
 sleeplessly busy in devising lures to entice soxils into his 
 power. To resist Satan by renouncing the material workl 
 became, therefore, the aim of the early Christians ; and 
 how could they show their devotion to Christ more ])lainly 
 than by denying that instinct, whicli is, next to S('lf-])rescr- 
 vation, the strongest and commonest of the natural pas- 
 sions? The zealot who succeeded in mortifying the flesh 
 might well feel himself secure against the other wiles of 
 the fiend. A fashion of asceticism as intemperate as licen- 
 tiousness took possession of the Chureli : and ])i'esently 
 whoever aspired to the reputation of di'voutness nuist 
 conform to the practice of the most fanatical. If a elei-- 
 gyman married, it was taken as jiioof that he had not eon- 
 quere<l his animal nature: that he was not satisfied with 
 a spiritual bride, tlu; Church, and with spiritual eliiitlreu, 
 his parishioners. So extravagant was the delusion, that
 
 30 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 worthy fathers feared lest everybody, clericals and laymen 
 alike, would adopt celibacy and thus cut off the race ; but 
 Jerome, one of the fiercest advocates of the practice, dis- 
 pelled their fears by pointing out that virginity is a most 
 difficult state to preserve, and that there would always be 
 enough backsliders to people the earth.^ And in truth 
 many of the brethren and sisters married and bred chil- 
 dren ; but while their weakness was condoned, it was still 
 deemed a weakness. Christ had never married ; therefore, 
 it was urged, he held celibacy to be the higher state. 
 
 In this way, many causes contributed to convert what 
 had been voluntary self-denial into a rigid law which 
 churchmen must obey and laymen would strive to obey. 
 Men whose pure lives excluded the suspicion that they 
 pleaded from low motives protested against this unnatu- 
 ral jjrohibition. " Deprive the Church of honorable mar- 
 riage," exclaimed the austere St. Bernard, " and you fill 
 her with concubinage, incest, and all manner of nameless 
 vice and uncleanness." ^ But the ascetics prevailed. Sacer- 
 dotal celibacy widened the gulf which already separated 
 clergy from laity ; and since the monks had taken the vow 
 of chastity, pride forced the secular clergy to appear not 
 less self-renouncing than they. For generations together 
 they did indeed resist the ordinance and married ; but the 
 Popes, whether impelled, as was sometimes the case, by a 
 desire to reform the morals of the Church, or, as was usu- 
 ally the case, by ambition, persevered, and finally declared 
 sacerdotal celibacy to be the irrevocable law. And then 
 Kature, who never forgets to punish men, whether they 
 err through ignorance or by intent, took a terrible revenge. 
 The very rule by which misguided zealots expected to at- 
 tain purity, and by which haughty ecclesiastics schemed 
 to lift themselves above laymen, this rule Nature turned 
 
 ^ ITieron. ad Jov. i, •IC). qnotefl by H. C Lea, History of Sacerdotal 
 Celibaci/ (Philadelphia, 1884), p. 624 
 2 Ibid, 331.
 
 DEVELOPMENT OF STATE AND CHUK( H. 31 
 
 into an instrument of foulness and degradation. Age 
 after age, St. Bernard's prophecy has been fulfilled. 
 
 In times and countries that looked lightly on sexual 
 immorality, ecclesiastics took no pains to conceal their 
 profligacy ; but in more recent times, among communities 
 that assume the virtue of purity, even though they have 
 it not, clerical debauch has been less open. /SI non caste., 
 saltern caute, is the convenient rule. Doubtless, there 
 have always been honest men and women in the Church, for 
 no system is so bad that it can vitiate some temperaments ; 
 but we speak not of Francis and Theresa, nor of their 
 similars, we speak of the great body by whose conduct 
 the Church is judged. This is corroded by hypocrisy ; and 
 hypocrisy in the priest has created easy-going indifference 
 to virtue and skeptical distrust of things spiritual in the 
 parish. Men who have no faith in the sincerity and up- 
 rightness of their religious guides, to whom nevertheless 
 they attribute a mysterious sanctity which does not d(;pend 
 upon personal goodness, are apt to deem it unimportant 
 that they themselves be upright and sincere. And Nature 
 has indeed taken a terrible revenge ! Iler law to-day is 
 as inflexible as it was fifteen centuries ago, when Jerome 
 and Origen, in their errant enthusiasm, thought that it could 
 be curbed or annulled by a pa])al decree : ignorance led 
 them astray, but the guilt of the Church has been increased 
 just in proportion as experience has proved, generation 
 after generation, that their purpose was monstrous and 
 unattainable. As well might the Pope stand on the biink 
 of Niagara and connuand the waters not to fall as bid 
 Nature to withdraw her vital instinct from every man 
 who })uts on the ])riest's gown or the monk's frock. 
 
 Nevertheless, this ride wliich sensualizes the clergy and 
 corrupts the laitv — this rule which cnntlicts with Nature 
 and is the cause of patent hypoeiisy — this it was that 
 upheld the worldly sway of the Konian hieraicliy and fur- 
 nished agents to build up the edifice of the l*a])acy. It
 
 32 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 completed the organization of that distinct clerical caste 
 which carried one language and one policy into many lands ; 
 a caste of religious Janissaries, of unattached bachelors, 
 who, bound by no love to mother or wife, were pledged 
 body and soul to obey their pontiff. And when at last 
 there came a Pope whose strength equaled his ambition, 
 he fomid that army of trained soldiers ready to do his 
 will. That Pope was Gregory VII, popularly called Ilil- 
 debrand, the first in time and among the most eminent in 
 rank of the men of genius of the modern Italian race. 
 He conceived a system of world-government even more 
 wonderful than that of Charlemain and Stephen ; for he 
 dreamed of replacing the joint control of Emperor and 
 Pope by a single control, the Pope's. 
 
 Theocracy is the legitimate ideal of any Church which 
 pretends to be universal and infallible. Granting that 
 men's soids must be saved, and that God has ordained 
 one Church for their salvation, how can she fulfil her 
 mission if the temporal government be in the hands of a 
 ruler of whom she does not approve, or if the civil laws 
 be not in harmony with her spiritual laws ? Man has not 
 two separate beings ; his acts in mundane affairs cannot 
 be set apart ; and since all his acts have a moral signifi- 
 cance, all contribute to purify or stain his soul. The State, 
 which regards only his worldly life, is e\adently incompe- 
 tent, unless it be guided by the Church, to lead that life 
 into the path of salvation. The State, therefore, must be 
 the steward of the Church. If any precedents were needed 
 they could be quickly found ; did not the Old Testament 
 record the dealings of God with his chosen people, whose 
 government was theocratic ? and even among the pagan 
 Romans, was not the Emperor poiitifex maximns, the nom- 
 inal religious head of the Empire ? And to the record of 
 history the Roman hierarchs had already begun to add 
 the authority of forged decretals, and had concocted tradi- 
 tions which an uncritical age easily mistook for genuine.
 
 DEVELOPMENT OF STATE AND CHUKCH. 33 
 
 Many things combined to make Hildebrand's scheme 
 appear realizable*. The Church had already large posses- 
 sions in Italy, over which she ruled as temporal sovereign. 
 The creation of the College of Cardinals in 1059 perma- 
 nently established a small and exclusive aristocracy in the 
 Church, and seemed to assure the election of Popes who 
 would carry out a uniform policy. The rise of several 
 independent kingdoms over which the Emperor could not 
 maintain his sovereignty tempted the Church to usurp 
 the position of arbiter and peacemaker among them. The 
 Emperors themselves seemed to acknowledge, in the cere- 
 mony of consecration, that they derived their authority 
 from the spiritual power. Hildebrand, quick to perceive 
 the opportunity which two centuries had slowly prepared, 
 was quick to seize it. He boldly proclaimed his theocratic 
 system. 
 
 Thus rose the Papacy, a temporal institution governed 
 by ecclesiastics, who in their struggle for its aggrandize- 
 ment equipped themselves with wea})()ns spiritual and 
 weapons material. At first they hoped to bring all West- 
 ern Europe under their sway, but gradually they had to 
 content themselves with the possession of a part of Cen- 
 tral Italy. The Emperors from the outset resisted their 
 encroachment. They refused to confirm bisho])s whom 
 the Popes installed in German dioceses contrary to their 
 wishes ; again and again they descended witli strong ar- 
 mies into Italy, to compel the arrogant pontiff to veticat 
 into his legitimate positi(m. Many tlie e\'])C(Hti()ns, long 
 the wars over investitures, varying the fortunes ; but on 
 the whole, the Popes trimn])lie(l. They did not, indeed, 
 win the teni])oral control over the northern kingdoms, but 
 they retained their mastery over tlie ecclesiastical organ- 
 ization ill them, and ])revented tlic formation of national 
 churclies. Hildebrand kept Hcniy IV barefoot and shiv- 
 ering for three days and niglits at Canossa, ere lie would 
 allow him to aj)i)ear in his j)resfnce ami beg for forgive-
 
 34 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 ness. Frederick Barbarossa, the most puissant monarch 
 since Charlemain, was haughty in defiance ; yet he too 
 humbled himself, and on the steps of the Church of St. 
 Mark in Venice he fell at the feet of Alexander III and 
 was granted pardon.^ A strenuous Emperor might depose 
 a hostile Pope, but his victory was only transient ; for the 
 Emperors were confronted by an invisible policy, — the 
 same yesterday, to-day, and forever, and not to be exter- 
 minated by the displacement of whosoever happened to 
 be its temporary spokesman. In every diocese, in every 
 parish, were the upholders of that policy, and they could 
 not be silenced. On the whole, then, the prestige of the 
 Empire was shattered against the invisible annor of Rome, 
 but the spiritual influence of the Popes declined in pro- 
 portion as they rose to be worldly monarchs. The idea 
 of the Papacy, shorn and discredited, has survived down 
 to the present time, although there have been but six or 
 seven Popes in as many centuries with sufficient personal 
 force to realize in small measure, and for a brief season, 
 the earth-embracing dream of Hildebrand. 
 
 When at length Western Christendom emerged from 
 the Middle Age, what was the condition of its inhabitants ? 
 With what power did men battle with this life ? ^V^ith 
 what faith did they apprehend the life to come ? How 
 had a thousand years of Roman Christianity and half as 
 many years of Feudalism left them ? There can be no 
 doubt, I think, that the average European of the thir- 
 teenth century was on a lower plane than the Roman citi- 
 zen of the second century had been. He had a smaller 
 respect for law, a duller sense of justice. He had not yet 
 learned to curb his brutal passions ; he still relied upon 
 
 ^ In much later times, Joseph II of Austria thoug-ht that he could 
 strengthen his empire by breaking free from Roman interference ; but after 
 a few years he surrendered, and Austria has been since then the most sor- 
 vile daughter of the Church. Even Xapoleon, even Bismarck, after a high- 
 handed resistance, saw the advantage, if not the need, of compromising 
 with the Vatican.
 
 DEVELOPMENT OF STATE AND CHURCH. 35 
 
 physical strength as the test of right and the criterion of 
 honor. He wafe cut off from political activity ; he had 
 almost wholly lost touch with nature. His religion was 
 partly superstitious, partly fanatical, administered by a 
 corrupt or an ignorant priesthood, who made piety to con- 
 sist in the performance of certain stij)ulated outward acts. 
 The Popes, like the Itoman Emperors, had arrogated to 
 themselves a sort of divinity. The religious rites were, 
 to the eye of Reason, not a whit less fantastic than the 
 sacrifice of the flamens or the auspices of the augurs. The 
 pagan worship of minor gods was perpetuated in the 
 Catholic worship of saints. The subtle, circular argu- 
 ments of the theologians — the speculations as to the 
 color of God's beard, and as to whether Christ ascended 
 naked or clothed into Heaven — were sterile and foolish 
 compared with the spiritual discussions of the Neo-plato- 
 nists and the ethical precepts of the later Stoics. If the 
 Church restrained society at all, hers was a restraint of 
 terror. She scared men with menaces of damnation, 
 rather than drew them to virtue by the sweet persuasive- 
 ness of love. Hell seemed so inevitable that it became 
 necessary to build an antechamber to it, a Purgatory, 
 whence souls had a chance to escape, in spite of their sin- 
 fulness, into Heaven. Fear lies very deep in tli(' hiinian 
 heart, so deep as to be an elemental instinct ; no wonder, 
 therefore, that Romanism and Calvinism — the two forms 
 of Christianity that have bound men most fii inly — clinclied 
 their doctrinal fetters in this instinct of fear, (iod a ty- 
 rant, religion a terror, — that is th<' u])shot of media'val 
 Christianity. Neither ])oet, nor seer, nor saint, has yet 
 drawn a ])ieture of Heaven that satisfies tlie soul : notliing 
 better liave they foreshadowed than an eternity s])ent in 
 playing harps, wearing crowns, and singing hosannas. 
 And, indeed, no prognostic; can be di-awn of everlasting 
 bliss, because the divine desire of the soul yearns foi- in- 
 finite expansion in ways wliit-h it cannot even surmise :
 
 36 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 whereas the outlines of the theologic vision are finite, 
 fixed, monotonous, — and bliss shuns limits and monot- 
 ony. But of Hell, on the other hand, representations so 
 vivid have been conceived, that millions with but a vajjue 
 notion of Heaven have believed in the reality of Hell. 
 Hell is material and physical, and since the first man 
 scorched his fingers in fire, the dullest have understood 
 that a place in which flames rage forever and burn with- 
 out destroying the whole body is a place to be avoided. 
 By keeping this terror vividly present, the Roman Church 
 became and has remained a dominant religion, and it was 
 in possessing this dread that the mediaeval man differed 
 most widely from the man of pagan Rome. 
 
 In spite of this deterrent neither the mediaeval man, nor 
 his posterity for many generations, rose in many respects 
 above the plane where natural passions have full sway : 
 his lust, his anger, his selfishness, his pride, his cunning, 
 were the impulses he obeyed. Seldom can you find, in 
 all the wars and intrigues which make up the history of 
 a long period, motives higher than those of a well-devel- 
 oped animal. Emerging from the ]Middle Age, man was 
 losing that religious enthusiasm whicli expressed itself 
 in the building of cathedrals and in the Crusades ; his 
 creed which, so long as it had been unreflectingly emo- 
 tional, had not wanted picturesqueness, was now poured 
 into the rigid matrix of theology. Superstition, which 
 like the nai'v^e guesses of children had had a certain 
 charm, was now, through the casuistry of sehoohnen's 
 loo-ic, declared to be demonstrable truth. Faith had be- 
 come a dogma, and worship was becoming a commercial 
 transaction. The Church had marked off a little patch of 
 knowledge, beyond which there was nothing to know : in 
 that the inquirer might get what fodder he could, although, 
 truth to tell, the grass had long since been . nibbled to the 
 roots. Or we may picture him as a caged squirrel, whirl- 
 ing in his wire wheel and never advancing, while just out-
 
 DEVELOPMENT OF STATE AND CHURCH. lU 
 
 side is freedom, — the broad branches of the pines, the 
 shagbarks with* their nuts, tiie oaks with their acorns. To 
 wonder why he was content with this confinement, why 
 the universe coukl not stir his curiosity, is to fail to com- 
 prehend him ; the mediaeval man was bent on getting to 
 heaven, and was taught that everything of earth would 
 delay his journey thither ; the Church knew the mystic 
 watchword, the Open sesame which would unlock Peter's 
 door ; to know that rendered all other knowledge as un- 
 necessary as woidd be a whole dictionary of words to a 
 merchant who knew the combination of letters which 
 unlocks the safe where his treasure is stored. The lay- 
 man lacked even the formal juiccless training of the 
 clerics ; many of the princes whose renown still survives 
 coidd not write their names. The earth, whose laws it 
 behooves us to study if we would not be crushed by them, 
 was still under the ban. Tlie Mosaic fables and the Ptole- 
 maic guesses were the only keys to nature's mysteries. 
 Science, whether of experiment or observation, was not ; 
 criticism was not ; because tradition, which acts on the 
 reason like laughing-gas on the bi-ain, put the reason to 
 sleep and produced phantasmagoric dreaming. The curi- 
 ous who pried into ])liysical secrets were accnised of ])rac- 
 ticing the Black Art, because Satan alone, it was Ix'lievcd, 
 knew the mechanism of the })hysi('al world. Sorcery, 
 witchcraft, ordeals, alchemy, astrology, — these are some 
 of the rubrics under wliich th(! superstitions of tliat age 
 might be described. This uncritical state of mind fostered 
 the growth of all sorts of incongi'uities, of miracles in 
 religion, of legends in history. The Church was the sole 
 judge of truth, and she quashed any investigation tliat 
 might conlliet with her assumptions. Much that was fan- 
 ciful and picturescjue casts a ghunour over this strange 
 ])eriod, in wliieh ronianeers liave found those contrasts 
 which surprise and charm tlie imagination : iiut it was, 
 nevertheless, a period of ])assage which beijueathcd to jios-
 
 38 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 terity no information in religion, polities, or soeiology, by 
 which later men could steer with profit. Those are the 
 great epochs, and those only, in which Reason, untram- 
 nieled by arbitrary tethers, unprejudiced by partisanship 
 and tradition, looks Fact squarely in the eyes and dis- 
 covers Truth there ; and the truths so discovered are of 
 imperishable value to mankind. 
 
 It is a law of human progress that a strong habit or 
 institution can be overcome only by something stronger. 
 On this principle depends the conservation of society and 
 the sequence of character ; for if men and nations changed 
 suddenly, either for better or worse, life would be unstable, 
 lawless, a thing of weather-cocks. Furthermore, a system 
 which may have been the best possible in one era — and 
 we cannot deny that Feudalism and Catholicism were 
 such — becomes harmful and a hindrance when altered 
 conditions have suggested a system better adapted to the 
 new needs and ideals of mankind. Modern history nar- 
 rates the struggle between men bent on reorganizing so- 
 ciety according to new ideals, and men who, satisfied with 
 the old, regard the new as dangerous. To the former, 
 change wears the aspect of life and growth, to the latter 
 of dissolution and death. 
 
 The inventory of the legacies bequeathed by the Middle 
 Age to the modern world contains first a Church claiming 
 to be catholic and infallible. The product of a semi-bar- 
 barous and imcritical age, — the fruit of Hebraism grafted 
 on the decaying trunk of Roman Imperialism, — she pre- 
 served the dogmas and discipline which enabled her to 
 overcome m;yi:h-beguiled and violent barbarians. After 
 the fourth century, when the old Roman civilization dis- 
 solved and the very existence of social order was imper- 
 iled, this Church tamed the hordes which repeopled Eu- 
 rope and diffused principles of unity among them. These 
 conditions no longer exist. Reason and not Authority is 
 now the ride by which, in theory at least, men govern their
 
 DEVELOPMENT OF STATE AND CHURCH. 39 
 
 affairs ; but in the course of this history we shall see how 
 the Roman ChVirch, still clinging to the methods which 
 proved potent over the heathen of the sixth century, 
 and sufficed for the monks and schoolmen of the twelfth, 
 erects her authority in the face of the nineteenth century, 
 and forgets that only by Reason can Reason be van- 
 quished. And as if it were not labor enough to light with 
 antiquated weapons for her spiritual supremacy, she would 
 compel the modern world to recognize her carnal offspring, 
 the temporal Papacy, begotten amid conditions long ago 
 obsolete. 
 
 The second mediaeval heirloom is the idea of monar- 
 chical government : the assmnption that a king rules 
 by divine right, that he is the fountain of honor and 
 source of justice, that his will is absolute law, so that he 
 may dispose of the service, proj)erty, and lives of his sub- 
 jects as suits his whim. As a corollary from this is the 
 division of society into three classes, nobility and clergy 
 forming the privileged class, merchants or bourgeoisie the 
 middle class, and peasants and common laborers the low- 
 est or servile class. Only the king is his own master ; all 
 the others in some sense belong to him. 
 
 A wonderful scheme. Upper class did not work, iniless 
 the performance of Church ceremonies and the fighting of 
 battles were work ; yet both nobles and clergy, whether 
 they were idle or diligent, received tithes and taxes. Mid- 
 dle class worked with the head, and enjoyed what wealth 
 remained to it after ])aying tribute to king, count, and 
 Church. Lower class worked with the hand, yet was of 
 no more account than cattle which workcMl with the hoof : 
 for all its products, after deducting enougli wool for its 
 homesjmn jerkin and enough wheat for its daily loaf, 
 passed upward to enrich its superiors. Labor is tlie law 
 of life : every man must earn his food. aji])arel. and lodg- 
 ing ; the gods do not give, they lend, and men must re])ay 
 their loan; hajjpiness itself, if attained at all, can be at-
 
 40 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 tained only through work ; but the Feudal scheme bestowed 
 the highest rewards on those who did not toil, while de- 
 meaning the many who with head or hand toiled for the 
 privileged few. The law of primogeniture kept great estates 
 intact, and transmitted titles to idleness from generation 
 to generation, by making birth a lottery, in which the 
 first-born drew the grand prize and his younger brothers 
 drew blanks. Finally, woman held a position inferior to 
 man in society and before the law ; the singers of chivalry 
 had lifted her above the level of mere sexual companion- 
 ship, but she was in fact treated as a subordinate, and 
 could not be treated otherwise in a system framed by 
 men who, as warriors, looked upon women as weak but 
 pleasant solaces during the unheroic interludes of peace, 
 or who, as priests, regarded them as decoys set by the 
 Devil to entrap pilgrims on their way to heaven. 
 
 These are among the bequests and posthumous influ- 
 ences which the modern world has received from mediaeval 
 times, ancestral taints and hereditary diseases from which 
 Europe has not yet wholly purged herself. What was 
 beneficent died with its season, leaving its husk, its sym- 
 bol, to deceive mankind. When the Cid was dead, they 
 clad his body in his armor, and put his good sword Colada 
 in his hand, and set him upon his steed Bavieca, and then, 
 a squire sustaining the corpse on each side, they led him 
 forth from the city ; and at sight of him approaching, 
 the army of the Saracens were seized with fear and fled 
 while the hero was still afar off. Verily, most tenacious 
 among men is the worship of a symbol after its reality 
 has vanished. Look at Europe at any moment during the 
 past ages, and see how ghosts bearing great names and 
 dummies dressed in royal garments have lorded it over 
 her. At Rome, for instance, see the mightiest symbol, — 
 the Pope ; in reality he should be meek, unselfish, pure, 
 spiritual, as becomes the successor of Peter the Fisher- 
 man and the representative of Jesus of Nazareth ; but
 
 DEVELOPMENT OF STATE AND CHURCH. 41 
 
 Popes long since exchanged humility for a monarch's 
 pomp ; they haVe been by turns worldly, proud, licen- 
 tious, cruel, ignorant, — as far removed froin the Christ- 
 like ideal as their hell from heaven ; and yet being clothed 
 in the symbol, they have had the reverence which the 
 reality once drew to it. The pontiff cannot foretell whether 
 he shall live to behold to-morrow's sun, nevertheless the 
 keys of eternity jangle on his girdle. Or look at that 
 other symbol, — the Holy Roman Emj)eror ; that, too, 
 was a reality in Charlemain ; it meant an invincible con- 
 queror, a wise legislator ; it meant a ruler strong enough 
 to yoke order upon the turbulence of Western Christen- 
 dom ; it stood for prudent counsel and power to enforce 
 it. But when Charlemain died, only his name, like a 
 mantle, survived, to be worn by men who had barely a 
 province loyal to them, or by wealdings unfit for camp 
 and council, until even boys were swaddled in its folds. 
 And yet the sight of that symbol inspired some of that 
 awe which originally only Charlemain could ins])ire, as if 
 some of his vigor had been diffused through his imperial 
 robes, there to lie latent for ages. And only a little while 
 ago men were among us who as schoolboys learned the 
 name of the then reigning Emperor, and who remembci'i'd 
 when the news came that the very symbol of the I loly 
 Roman Empire was no more;. And so with the other 
 titles which distinguish the ])eerage of modern Eur()])e : 
 the duke was originally the leader of an army, a skilful 
 general and brave fighter; the count was the Emjieror's 
 comj)anion, chosen for valor or shrewdness ; the niar([nis 
 was the Emperor's deputy, eliarged to defend the niaich 
 between the Empire and barl)ariaiis. l>ut tliese titles be- 
 came hereditary, and sons who had no soldierly ([ualities 
 decked themselves in symbols their sires had made si^iiiii- 
 eant ; till by and by tiu' court dandies and rich iiiercliants 
 and th(! bastards of royal mistresses wor<' the iionors once 
 intended for (•ham])ions in war. The {■'injtcror likewise
 
 42 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE, 
 
 was served by a cui)bearer, a steward, a marshal, and a 
 chamberlain ; and these titles also were bestowed later 
 upon courtiers who had never raised a goblet (except to 
 their own lips), or borne a platter, or groomed a horse, or 
 made a bed. In many other instances we might point out 
 how Reality slipped away from its symbol, with the con- 
 sequent perversion and misapplication of symbols, and 
 the gradual dulling of the senses to Reality ; but in the 
 Roman Church, as elaborated by mediaeval theologians, 
 and in the monarchical institution of modern times, we 
 have the best illustrations of the pertinacity of symbols. 
 The veneration paid to the relics of departed saints, and to 
 the robes and titles of living potentates, is the expression 
 of one of the strongest instincts of human nature, — the 
 tendency, that is, to mistake the symbol for the reality, 
 the body for the soid, the letter for the spirit. Neverthe- 
 less, " the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MANY REPUBLICS, BUT NO NATION. 
 
 We have thus far measured roughly the trunk of that 
 new society which sprang up in Europe after the fall of 
 the Western Empire, — a tree rooted in the soil of Teu- 
 tonism and manured by the decaying Roman civilization : 
 for Providence, to whom nothing is waste, uses corrupt 
 races, like dead leaves, to fertilize exhausted human na- 
 ture for other crops. We must now examine more partic- 
 ularly the branch which earliest stretched out from that 
 trunk; we must confine ourselves to the development of 
 the Italian people. Why was it that Italy, the first coun- 
 try to revive, did not revive as a nation? We see plainly 
 enough that the principle of nationality was shaping the 
 people of the North into distinct States, and that, by the 
 end of the Middle Age, these States had a recognized 
 existence: why was it that the Italians, so superior to the 
 northerners at the start, failed to attain national unity ? 
 Three causes opposed the tendency to a national union in 
 Italy and doomed her to a thousand years of thraldom, 
 discord, and shame: these were first, the Papacy, which, 
 in spite of its Italian origin and methods, strove to extend 
 its sway over Christendom, instead of confining itself to 
 the peninsula; second, the Emi)ire, whose head, a for- 
 eigner, being the nominal King of Italy, brooked no 
 native rival; and third, the astonishingly rapid develop- 
 ment of small States, from the Al])s to Sicily. 
 
 In no other country in the world, not even in Greece, 
 has a race manifested so varied a sensibility as in Italy. 
 The wonderful keenness, delic-acy, and energy of the Ital-
 
 44 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 ian character, responsive to the smallest diversity of place 
 and condition, blossomed in new forms of individuality, 
 each differing from the rest. At a time when England 
 or France had hardly one centre from which the national 
 life-blood pulsated through all the members of the people, 
 in Italy there were a score of such centres, each distinct, 
 each throbbing with life. Indeed, there were too many 
 hearts, too many little republics; the competition among 
 them was too incessant; the area from which each drew 
 its sustenance was too narrow. Having exhausted their 
 own store, they fell to devouring each other, till tyrants 
 mightier and more rapacious than they came and found 
 them an easy quarry. This marvelous individuality, so 
 intense and productive of splendid monuments in art, in 
 religion, in government, in literature, was the glory of 
 Italy, and insured for her the everlasting interest of men. 
 But she bought distinction at the expense of her political 
 independence, and she, who led the nations to that modern 
 civilization out of which they have drawn their freedom, 
 was destined not to be free. Like a discoverer, whose 
 genius had added to the power and wealth and happiness 
 of mankind, she was condemned to live poor and forlorn. 
 More than once in the early age was she teased by the 
 delusive prospect of independence. At the dissolution of 
 the Western Empire, Odoaeer united the peninsula in 
 his Ostrogothic kingdom, which Theodoric, the first of 
 the barbarians who displayed talents of administration, 
 strengthened. But at his death, Justinian, the Eastern 
 Emperor, reasserted his claims in Italy, and dispatched 
 thither first Belisarius and then Narses, who routed Theo- 
 doric 's heirs and brought their possessions \inder the rule 
 of Byzantine exarchs. Justinian died, and another Teu- 
 tonic tribe, the Lombards, settled in Northern Italy; 
 they were fierce and lawless, but nevertheless they had 
 force, — the first element of superiority, — and they 
 mitrht in time have been tamed into civilization throuah
 
 MANY REPUBLICS, BUT NO NATION. 45 
 
 the influence of thp people they had conquered. But just 
 as they were becoming paramount, the Pope, harassed 
 and terrified by their encroachments, sent over the Alps 
 and besought Charles Martel to hasten to his assistance. 
 Gregory III is the name of this pontiff who set the exam- 
 ple of calling foreigners into Italy, — a precedent fol- 
 lowed century after century, till the ruin of the country 
 was complete. Charles Martel died before he could pun- 
 ish the Lombards, but his son Pepin, and his grandson 
 Charlemain, obeyed similar calls, and reduced the Lom- 
 bards to the condition of vassals. Italy became a fief of 
 the Emperor, who was crowned king at Milan. When 
 Charlemain 's dominion fell in pieces, Italy was left in 
 confusion ; ahnost abandoned by her nominal sovereign, 
 she was the victim of the ambition of her native princes, 
 who fought to possess her. Again it seemed likely that 
 an Italian, descended from the Lombard princes, would 
 establish himself as king; but a strong Emperor, Otto I, 
 marched against him, humbled him, renewed the compact 
 between the Empire and the Church, and left a terrible 
 warning for all future aspirants. Otto it was who fixed 
 those relations between the Emperor and the Pojie which 
 formed the basis of mediteval polity and were the cause 
 of mediaival conflicts. The Popes, as we have seen, 
 gained in this struggle; but they had tlu^ aggrandize- 
 ment of the Pa})acy, and not the welfare of Italy, in view. 
 Had they dreamed of uniting the Italians in one State, 
 they would have hvxm ])revente(l by the Italians them- 
 selves; for local competiticni was too vehement to allow 
 the republics to merge their individual privileges for the 
 sake of a larger collective frei'dom. To secuic advantages 
 for itself, by i)ropitiatiiig now the Eiii])eroi' and now the 
 Pope, according as the one or the other ha])i)ened to be 
 np])ermost, was therefore the policy of each rei)ul»lic. 
 
 Thus in Italy there was no general movement towards 
 national coherence. There sprang up no dynasty, — like
 
 46 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 that of the Capets in France, or of Wessex in England, 
 or of the Saxons in Germany, — to arouse in the Italians 
 the sense of a common fatherland, broader than the fron- 
 tiers of any province, and including the interests of every 
 district. There was, instead, a bourgeoning of many 
 separate commimities, in almost any one of which flour- 
 ished a higher civilization than could then be found north 
 of the Alps. As early as the time of Charlemain, the 
 Greek cities of Southern Italy prospered. Their ships 
 traded with Constantinople and the Levant. The coin of 
 Amalfi passed current along the shores of the Mediterra- 
 nean. The School of Medicine at Salerno ^ had already, 
 in the ninth century, a wide reputation. When the Nor- 
 man invasion crippled these southern States, — so small, 
 but sturdy, — others came to their growth in the north, 
 Pisa first, then Genoa and Venice. The sea wonderfully 
 promotes enterprises in those who dwell along its shores. 
 Its paths lead to all countries ; its severities and dangers 
 toughen the body and call forth presence of mind and 
 fortitude. Thus its children, the seafaring nations, have 
 been brave and alert, and by their intercourse with other 
 people they have escaped the stagnation of pastoral life. 
 Amalfi and Pisa, Genoa and Venice, these were the medi- 
 aeval children of the sea : breathing its strong salt air and 
 shrinking not from its stern hazards, they acquired some 
 of tlie inexhaustible energy of the ocean itself. Each 
 was an example of the quickness and sane vigor with 
 which the new Italian race threw itself into the work of 
 mastering the obstacles amid which it was placed, and of 
 drawing from them, as from a quarry, the materials of a 
 new civilization. 
 
 But not alone along its seaboard was Italy active. 
 Her inland towns had suffered less than her rural districts 
 from the Teutonic inundation. It is a common error to 
 
 ' For an account of this earliest European university, see Coppi : Le 
 Universita Italiane nel Medio Evo (Florence, 1880),
 
 MANY REPUBLICS, BUT NO NATION. 47 
 
 suppose that the 'barbarians exterminated the peoples 
 whom they conquered; nowhere was this true, in Italy 
 least of all. Their position there has been aptly likened 
 to that of the English conquerors in India, under the 
 Mogul Empire; "they were in it, but not of it."^ Infe- 
 rior in numbers to their subjects, they gradually became 
 fused with them. The Teuton was merely a fighter, but 
 he quickly perceived that the wealth which was his prize 
 in Italy depended upon the preservation of a system of 
 agriculture, industry, and law that had been perfected by 
 the vanquished race. He was shrewd enough not to de- 
 stroy those who possessed the key to this system, — a key 
 which unlocked the treasure he coveted. He had brought 
 his own tribal laws, but these, complicated, fluctuating, 
 and unwritten, disappeared before the permanent and 
 clearly codified laws of Rome. He had brought his own 
 gods, but these, too, vanished before the new religion of 
 Rome. He felt the mighty spell of learning, — that in- 
 tangible power which survives the shock of armies and 
 looks disdainfully upon the rude triumphs of brute force, 
 — and he knew that only from his subjects was that 
 learning to be had. A king he was, but a king depen- 
 dent upon counselors who excelled him in everytliing 
 except physical strength. Thus was he moulded on all 
 sides by the subtle influence of the race he had overcome. 
 The Roman had been mastered by the culture of his 
 Greek bondsmen, so that the most eminent Augustan 
 works seem only to echo the deathless Athenian voices; 
 in like manner, but even more completely, the Teuton 
 in Italy was absorbed in the survival of Roiuau civiliza- 
 tion. 
 
 In Italy, moreover, feudalism took a weaker hold tliaii 
 
 in the Transalpine countries. The absence of a stalwart 
 
 sovereign favored the growtli of many small States. The 
 
 cities had never quite lost the innnicipnl and h'gal customs 
 
 ' R. W. Churc}i : Thr Bt ginning oftht Mid Jit A[ns. p H>.
 
 48 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 handed down from imperial times, and they were there- 
 fore fitted for the rapid expansion of civic life. Each city 
 had its count, the nominal representative of the Emperor, 
 and its bishop, who derived his authority from the Pope ; 
 and it was natural that these two rulers should strive to 
 outwit each other, and that the burghers should gain con- 
 cessions for themselves by supporting now one and now 
 the other. Like a hoiisehold in which the father and 
 mother having quarreled, the spoilt child gets permis- 
 sion from one parent to do what the other forbids, so the 
 citizens of Lombardy or Tuscany profited by the rivalry 
 between the Empire and the Papacy. During the twelfth 
 century the towns were, with but few exceptions, on the 
 side of the Pope, as the master to be less feared. Fred- 
 erick Barbarossa, the mediaeval sovereign whom history 
 and legend agree in honoring next after Charlemain, came 
 into Italy to subdue the rebellious Lombard cities. At 
 the first onset he succeeded; Milan was destroyed after 
 a cruel siege; Crema, her ally, also fell. For Milan's 
 neighbors, jealous of her supremacy, had looked on with 
 malicious satisfaction while she suffered ; but by the light 
 of her burning dwellings they saw their own danger. 
 For the first time in their history Italians forgot their 
 local spites, recognized a common duty to each other, 
 and formed a league. They helped to rebuild ]\Iilan, 
 and then prepared to fight together for freedom. Freder- 
 ick returned, full of wrath and confident of victory. The 
 Milanese, who had time to summon only a few allies 
 from Piacenza, Verona, Brescia, and Novara, met him 
 at Legnano, May 29, 1176. The Germans had almost 
 conquered, when they were cheeked by a band of brave 
 youths, who called themselves the Company of Death. 
 The waverers rallied; from resisting they advanced, and 
 the Germans in their tiirn wavered, then retreated, then 
 fled. Frederick himself barely escaped capture; his 
 camp was pillaged, his army dispersed. For the first
 
 MANY REPUBLICS, BUT NO NATION. 49 
 
 time Italians had 'fought man to man with foreign invad- 
 ers and routed them; for the first time, and almost for 
 the last, until the present century. 
 
 That victory of Legnano might have been the har- 
 binger of a new era for Italy. The patriotism then 
 kindled might have welded the States in the north into 
 a confederation, which should have gradually stretched 
 southward; but there were too many forces eager to 
 shatter such a fabric. The Pope, though he rejoiced at 
 his adversary's humiliation, in nowise intended that the 
 cities should pass out of his own control : and the cities, 
 having wrested large concessions from Frederick, fell to 
 wrangling amongst themselves. The danger from abroad 
 being surmounted, they dissolved their union, and each 
 pressed forward in its own concerns, striving to outrun 
 its neighbor, and unscrupulous in the choice of means by 
 which to circumvent or to excel him. During two hun- 
 dred years. Northern and Central Italy were torn by the 
 quarrels of factions, in which city raised its arm against 
 city, and brother against brother. It was as if a vehe- 
 ment wind contended against a strong tide. Two great 
 parties — the Guelfs (Pope) and the Ghibellines (P2m- 
 peror) — divided the allegiance of the contestants; but 
 in each town local feuds and family ambitions gave a 
 different complexion to the struggle, A tiff bctwi^on 
 lovers, a dispute between merchants, a fancied insult, a 
 suspected encroachment, — these were trifles sufficient to 
 set a whole })rovinee in a l)laze wliicli burned luridly long 
 after its cause was consumed and foi-gottcn. 
 
 Nevertheless, we can discern amid this incessant con- 
 fusion th'.it mighty changes wen; unfolding. Tlie cities, 
 despite wars, grew rich, and their control passed from the 
 old n()V)les, whose titles had originated witli the Poj)e or 
 the Em])eror, into the hands of the mercliants and tnides- 
 men. These, organizing in arts or guilds, cliose repre- 
 sentatives who aihuinistered the conunonwealth and were
 
 50 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 amenable to all the citizens. The government was there- 
 fore popular, or republican, but no longer stable. The 
 passion for freedom was impetuous, but not yet tolerant. 
 Restless competition and pitiless strife sharpened the 
 wits, and quickened that tendency to strong individuality 
 which had already been set in motion by the varieties of 
 interest, place, and tradition. Characters remarkable 
 for their intensity, deeds conspicuous for their heroism or 
 their wickedness, astonish us wherever we look into that 
 epoch. The monotony of the Middle Age had been suc- 
 ceeded by an unexampled diversity ; its grim seriousness 
 had been broken by the loud laughter of the Goliardi ; in- 
 stead of masses drifting sluggishly, we behold individuals, 
 sharply defined and strong, each rushing with the turbu- 
 lence of a mountain torrent. But as civic power de- 
 scended to lower and lower levels, it became more and 
 more unstable, till at last it reached the rabble, always 
 fickle, always ready to hearken to demagogues. Swift 
 changes, tumults, proscriptions, and at last exhaustion, 
 — that is the inevitable sequence in the degeneration of 
 popular governments ; and when exhaustion supervenes, 
 the tyrant steps in. By the beginning of the fourteenth 
 century, the energy of the Italian republics was spent : 
 each lay panting for the strong man to come to take from 
 it that fatal gift of liberty which it had not known how 
 to preserve. 
 
 Yet how rich, how surpassing rich, was the Italian gen- 
 ius at that time I Its political experiments, so brilliant 
 and so instructive, gave but one outlet to that versatile 
 and fervent nature. Within a hvmdred years appeared 
 Thomas Aquinas, the "angelic doctor," who dressed Eo- 
 man theology in the garb it wears to-day; Niccolb the 
 Pisan, earliest of modern sculptors; Arnolfo, the first in 
 time and all but the first in achievement of modern archi- 
 tects ; Giotto, who left one of the perfect buildings in the 
 world, and whose inexhaustible imagination outlined the
 
 MANY REPUBLICS, BUT NO NATION. 51 
 
 types for three centuries of painters ; Dante, the world- 
 poet; Petrarch, the man of universal erudition, and the 
 singer of the deathless sonnets ; Boccaccio, the father of 
 modern prose. These are names which, viewed individ- 
 ually, shine among the brightest in the constellations of 
 Art and Learning; but they represent more than them- 
 selves, more than the isolated achievements of genius.^ 
 A whole race expressed itself through them, — a race sen- 
 sitive to the least touch of beauty, brimming with the 
 wine of passion, trained and stimulated and disenthralled 
 by all varieties of experience. At last, after more than 
 a thousand years of silence or stammering, the human 
 spirit had again a voice. It spoke through many forms 
 of art and literature, religion was its oracle, the great 
 universities were its mouth])i(,'ces, new forms of govern- 
 ment were its tribune, and still there remained to it mes- 
 sages to be exi)ressed through the humble daily affairs of 
 men. The Italians were the ])ioneers in commerce, they 
 organized a banking system,- they were probably the first 
 to write policies of insurance. Their merchants and fab- 
 rics were known in all the marts of Europe ; the florin of 
 Florence ^ and the ducat of Venice circulated from Lon- 
 don in the West to Samarcand in the East. ^Manners, 
 which sweeten and smooth social intercourse, by marking 
 out a neutral ground where personalities the most antag- 
 onistic can meet without clashing, were already far ad- 
 vanced in refinement among the Italians, at a time wlien 
 German princes and English barons were still uncouth. 
 Even upon tools and household utensils this pervasive 
 and exuberant spirit left its mark of gi-ace, wedding util- 
 ity to beauty, were it only in tlie nianufactin-e of a hinge 
 or of a lantern. Sucli was the activity of the Italian 
 spirit, in s])ite of incessant unrest, and of the lack of a 
 concertiMl national life. 
 
 ' Kt^mark that all these, except St. Thoiiiiis, were Tii.seaiis. The elder 
 Villani, the earliest nuxh'rn historian. inij;lit he adih.il to the li-^l. 
 - The Ii.iiik of N'enice w.'Ls foiin<Ie(l in 1171- 
 ■' The first florin wa.s eoini il in !:.'"<1.'.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 DANTE. 
 
 Of Dante we must speak, however briefly, because 
 neither the character of the Italians nor the subsequent 
 history of Italy can be understood, unless the genius and 
 influence of Dante be in some measure computed. 
 Whether you look at him as poet or as man, he is equally 
 wonderful, and it was his fortune to undergo the myste- 
 ries of mortality at a unique period in the progress of 
 mankind. Other great men, — David, Pericles, Caesar, 
 Shakespeare, Moliere, Goethe, — coming at a great mo- 
 ment in their country's political or intellectual develop- 
 ment, stand forever as its representative and epitome: 
 but Dante is more than this; he is not only the consum- 
 mation of Florentine genius, not only the exemplar of the 
 Italian race, but he embodies one form of European civ- 
 ilization, and he leads the way to the next. His poem is 
 alike the most vivid and varied record of medieval con- 
 ditions, and the noblest expression of the only European 
 religion which has deserved the name Catholic. In that 
 poem you may read the actual life of Dante's contempo- 
 raries and the ideal life towards which the purest of them 
 aspired. It was possible for him to know all that was 
 known in his time — ■ good fortune which, owing to the 
 continual widening and particularization of knowledge, 
 has been denied to his successors ; so we may say truly 
 of his erudition that it was universal. But erudition of 
 itself is impotent : how ftiany of the erudite have we not 
 seen bending under a huge burden of facts, but palsicnl 
 in will and shriveled in heart, to die at last famished,
 
 DANTE. 53 
 
 like the ass in tlie fable, powerless to reach the sack of 
 meal strapped on his back? Dante had learning and 
 much more than learning; he had passion and imagina- 
 tion, the poet's supreme equipment; and he had experi- 
 ence with life on many levels; and thus he transmuted 
 scholasticism, theology, statecraft, into living realities, 
 making allegories concrete, and turning the concrete 
 deeds of men into symbols of wide and i>erpetual signifi- 
 cance. 
 
 That " Divine Comedy " of his was the emancipation and 
 warrant of the modern intellect. Twelve hundred years 
 had elapsed since Europe had been ennobled by a mas- 
 terpiece. The colossal fragments of classical literature 
 astonished and discouraged the mediaval mind ; for the 
 I)ower which created them seemed to have vanished along 
 with the youth of the world. The doom of inferiority 
 was evident and men accepted it, until Dante's epic broke 
 the spell of the Past. Let Greece bring her Homer and 
 Rome her Virgil, here was their peer, who, speaking a 
 new tongue, bore witness to a genius as inexhaustible, as 
 lofty, as any in antiquity. Dante wavered, it is said, 
 between writing in Latin and writing in Italian: by 
 choosing Italian, he gave a patent of nobility to every 
 modern language. The vernacular had been hitlicrto a 
 sort of Cinderella, a household drudge, good enough for 
 simrine: rustic sonars and lecfcnds. jjood enough for kitcliou 
 gossip and peasant wooing, wliilst Latin aiut Greek, the 
 two proud sisters, read learned books in the parlor, and 
 talked theology witli the bisliop in Ins palace.^ Dante, 
 like the ])rine(! in tlie fairy tale, came and made a prin- 
 cess of the despised one. In so doing ho confinned the 
 European tendency towards national life, of whieli lan- 
 guage is the most obvious outward sign; the popular 
 
 ^ I need hardly reiuiiid tlit- reader lliat in Dante's time (irei'k \vas nn- 
 kiiown to Italiun scholars; they read Arist«th' and Homer in Latin trans- 
 lations.
 
 64 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 speech in England, France, Spain, Germany, and Italy 
 became the vehicle for literary expression, as well as the 
 medium for daily intercourse, and although Latin was 
 employed by scholars down to the eighteenth century, the 
 most precious works of literature since Dante's time have 
 been written in the language spoken and understood by 
 the people. The Italian sonnets of Petrarch are as fresh 
 as the sweet notes of nightingale or throstle, whereas his 
 Latin epic is as mute as some antediluvian bird, some 
 epiornis, whose huge skeleton is dug from its sepulchre 
 of primeval slime; a few ringing songs of Ulrich von 
 Ilutten outlive the learned sarcasms of Erasmus. Thus 
 in its form ""The Divine Comedy " is an epoch-making 
 book; indeed, none other in literature so well deserves 
 that title ; for it authorized the new peoples to write after 
 their own fashion, unabashed by antique precedents, and 
 it determined the utterance of Chaucer and Cervantes, of 
 Camoens and Montaigne. 
 
 In its subject, also, it is equally original. The great 
 poets of antiquity had sung the exploits of legendary 
 heroes, the fortunes of princely families, the passions of 
 very human gods; Dante wrote the epic of the human 
 soul. Here is a theme which, for reality and interest, 
 surpasses all the rest. The conflict in the soul between 
 good and evil, — what Trojan War, what Battle of 
 Giants, is so awful as that? The progress of the soul 
 through the hell, purgatory, and paradise of earthly ex- 
 perience, — its wrestling with temptation, its alliance 
 with virtue, its vision of a perfection hovering, beautiful 
 but elusive, along the future's horizon, — what Odyssey 
 is so impressive, so varied as that? And Dante illustrates 
 this universal moral order, not by cold, dead abstrac- 
 tions, but by living examples; he shows pride and lust, 
 loving-kindness and sanctity, as we all know them, 
 through individuals. He ransacks past and present for 
 specimens of every variety of character. He tells us, in
 
 DANTE. 55 
 
 words how few Taut how indelible, what each one did, 
 and we know from the deed what each one was. In that 
 work of his. Medievalism and Catholicism are summed 
 up : a world-polity and a world-religion utter their highest 
 message to mankind. But there is in "The Divine 
 Comedy " something deeper, something more permanent 
 than any social or religious system : there is in it the im- 
 perishable substance of human nature, out of which all 
 creeds and systems are woven, and into which they all 
 dissolve. The Medievalism, except as a symbol, is obso- 
 lete; the Catholicism affronts our modern reason; the 
 philosophy sounds strange to our modern ears ; but we 
 can strip all these away without impairing the essential 
 worth beneath; having done so, we shall perceive that 
 under those transient forms one of the four or five men 
 who have seen farthest and clearest into the mystery of 
 life is dealing with that which perpetually concerns the 
 soul. Time shall make our own conclusions on these 
 themes ancient; the language wherein our philosoj)hy is 
 clothed sliall look awkward and outlandish to posterity, 
 just as the scholastic dialect looks to our eyes; but then, 
 as now, he who studies the pages of Dante shall learn the 
 most important of lessons, come V uora & eterna^ — how 
 man makes his life eternal, by mastei-ing the appetites of 
 the flesh, by denying self, and by cleaving to those ideals 
 of the spirit which neither wane nor die, but rise in ever- 
 widening spires towards the empyrean of all-embracing 
 and innnortal Truth; the life which lifts man above the 
 shock and accident and baseness oi earthly existence, 
 and fits him to depart trustfully, equi})pc(l for the possi- 
 bilities which eternity liides. 
 
 "Follow thou thy star, thou slialt not fail of a glorious 
 haven,"* that is Dante's counsel to all men; to his coun- 
 trymen he spoke further, according to their needs. It is 
 as a national hero and an iuHuenee, rather than as a poet, 
 
 ' Infirni), xv. .")">, ;")(').
 
 66 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 that he should be treated by the historian of modern 
 Italy. Not only was he "the Father of the Tuscan 
 tongue," but he was also the prophet of an Italy in which 
 the cruelty and corruption of tyrants should cease, of an 
 Italy in which, under one wise and just ruler, the cities 
 of the hills and the cities of the plain and the sea should 
 live in peace and mutual helpfulness. Dante did not, 
 indeed, dream of a nation independent of the Empire, 
 but he pleaded for a united nation, having its own laws 
 and governors, guided and protected by the Emperor. 
 And, what was most important, he denounced the tem- 
 poral covetousness of the Papacy as unholy; he de- 
 nounced the Decretals, not because they were forged, — 
 that was not known in his time, — but because they de- 
 graded the Church, by converting it into a monster of 
 simony and worldliness; he denounced the irreverence of 
 placing Tradition on an equality with the Scriptures : he 
 denounced the lewdness and pride of those who, sitting in 
 the chair of St. Peter and representing Christ on earth, 
 forsook things spiritual for things carnal, and iised their 
 sacred office as a net wherewith to catch the bribes of 
 Mammon or as a cloak to hide their profligate lives. 
 Graven ineffaceably in Dante's epic was this truth, reit- 
 erated by every sage and every prophet, that wealth and 
 power, which minister to the desires of the senses, poison 
 and pervert the spirit. This truth, easily verifiable in 
 the case of each particular soul, Dante applied to the 
 Church, the universal soul of Christendom. He cried 
 out against pastors who turned their shepherd's crooks 
 into swords, and who through avarice had become as 
 wolves. In the circle of Hell where simoniacs are pun- 
 islied, he placed Nicholas III, and rebuked him and all 
 Popes like him: "Ye have made you a god of gold and 
 silver: and what difference is there between you and 
 the idolater save that he worships one and ye a hundred ? 
 Ah, Constantine I of how much ill was mother, not thv
 
 DANTE. 67 
 
 conversion, but that dowry which the first rich Father 
 received from thee ! " ^ 
 
 So unerring was Dante's moral sense that hardly one 
 of the judgments pronounced by him have been set aside. 
 In so far as he believed that the government of the world 
 by one spiritual and one temporal sovereign was still pos- 
 sible, he was the spokesman of the highest mediaeval 
 ideal; but in declaring that Church and State must be 
 independent, and that the Pope defiled his spiritual func- 
 tions in usurping the prerogatives of the Emperor, Dante 
 was the forerunner of the wisest statesmen and purest 
 moralists of modern times. And thus his " Divine Com- 
 edy " became to his countrymen a political Bible, in wliich 
 they learned the cause of their evils and the remedies for 
 them. It was so mighty a book that neither Popes nor 
 tyrants nor inquisitors could suppress it. It was the de- 
 light of the scholar and the comfort of the patriot ; to the 
 earnest it brought wisdom which "is conversant with the 
 mysteries of the knowledge of God." Its phrases became 
 household words, and dignified the speech of peasants. 
 No other book, except the Bible in Protestant countries, 
 has so completely saturated the thoughts of a whole i)eo- 
 ple. Wherever it was read, there were heard, as if issu- 
 ing from a holy oracle, condemnation of the hate and 
 jealousy which kept Italians asunder, and of princes wlio 
 strangled liberty, and that awful judgment on Popes who 
 made their holy offices like to the scarlet woman prophe- 
 sied in the Apocalypse, "tlKi habitation of devils, and the 
 hold of every foid spirit, and a cage of every unclean and 
 liateful bird: for all nations have drunk of the wine of 
 the wrath of her fornication, and the kings of the earth 
 have connnitted fornication witli lier, and the merchants 
 of the earth are waxed rich througli the abundance of her 
 delicjicies."'-^ 
 
 ' Inferno, xix, 1 ll'-l 17. Norton's traaslation. 
 - litveliilion xviii, li, •!.
 
 58 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 "The Divine Comedy " became a Bible for the Italians : 
 by that fact we measure the majesty and the wisdom and 
 the truthfulness of the man. So firm was his integrity 
 and so intense his spirituality, that he strengthened and 
 purified whatsoever souls came fully under his influence. 
 With the vehemence of Paul, he had the catholicity of 
 Shakespeare. Men call him a Ghibelline, or a White, 
 to specify certain phases of his activity, as they give 
 names to the bays and inlets of the ocean ; but his nature 
 overflowed the coast-line of partisanship. During five 
 centuries, wherever there was an Italian who amid civil 
 discords longed for harmony and under oppression longed 
 for freedom, and who, despite the pettiness and abomina- 
 tions of his time, still kept his soul pure and his aims 
 high, there was found a disciple of Dante. The patriot, 
 languishing in some Austrian dungeon, or wandering in 
 exile along the banks of the Thames or the La Plata, re- 
 freshed his fortitude by the words and example of that 
 other exile who had tasted "the salt bread of strangers" 
 and abandoned "everything beloved," and who yet had 
 exclaimed, "Can I not from any corner of the earth be- 
 hold the sun and stars ? Can I not everywhere under the 
 heavens meditate the all-sweet truths, except I first make 
 myself ignoble ? " ^ And the statesman who was to achieve 
 the independence and unification of Italy only summed up 
 the policy of Dante in that phrase forever memorable, 
 "A free Church in a free State." 
 
 Thus briefly must we speak — and on this subject 
 much would be little — concerning the unique position 
 of Dante in the literature of Europe and in the history 
 of Italy, because it is more important to understand him 
 than to know by heart the brawls and revolutions which 
 tormented Italy from the twelfth to the sixteenth century. 
 His influence flows, like the Nile, through each later age, 
 ready to fertilize the souls of men. At times, his coun- 
 
 ^ Letter to a Florentine Friend (Episiolce, x).
 
 DANTE. 59 
 
 trymen, like modern Egyptians, have gazed blankly at 
 the mighty current; at times they have drawn life-giving 
 water from it. And the river has flowed on, majestic 
 and too deep for noise, bearing with it a force capable of 
 regenerating a nation, and forming not only an unbroken 
 connection between the past and the present, but also the 
 one bond of union, the one common object of reverent 
 admiration for the divided and factious Italians.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE RENAISSANCE. 
 
 Dante came, indeed, at the critical moment. Fifty 
 years later his faith must have been less complete, his 
 statecraft less certain. For then, instead of expressing 
 the ideals of Catholicism and of mediaeval Imperialism in 
 their purity, he would have been troubled by the stirring 
 of new influences, whose touch could not be resisted though 
 their import was not yet clear. He would have seen that 
 the Empire, to which he appealed as the universal peace- 
 maker, having hopelessly lost its universality, was shrunk 
 to be merely the appanage of a German prince ; he would 
 have seen the Church, no longer one and catholic, but 
 split by a schism from which she never truly recovered ; 
 he would have seen the glory of free Florence already past 
 meridian, and her liberty handed over to a foreign lord ; 
 he would have seen the other Italian republics, exhausted 
 by feuds, fall into the clutches of cruel, selfish despots; 
 above all, he would have felt the first exhilaration of Hu- 
 manism, of that revival of learning which truly deserves 
 the name New Birth, because the souls of men were born 
 anew into a life of liberty and reason, through the redis- 
 covery of the old learning. 
 
 We have so long enjoyed the results of this spiritual 
 revolution that we can hardly realize the enthusiasm, the 
 wonder and delight, which swept through the hearts of 
 those who first felt its stress. You who have known the 
 divine fervor of a love deep, pure, and irresistible, — when 
 the old self drops away like a clod from the soul, and the 
 world dances in gladness, and hope is infinite, and being
 
 THE RENAISSANCE. 61 
 
 is suffused with the radiance and tenderness of one Be- 
 loved, — you who have known this ecstasy of passion may 
 perhaps understand the revelation which captivated and 
 transformed the early Humanists. To these there came, 
 as from the heaven of Truth, an angel, a messenger, with 
 tidings of great joy. 
 
 "You have wandered far," said the Angel: "you have 
 been misled by false guides. That Promised Land, that 
 Happy Country for which you yearn, lies not before, but 
 behind you. Wearied by your march, cast down by the 
 cheerlessness of the desert you have traversed, you have 
 sought peace where it cannot be found. You have shut 
 yourselves up in cloistered cells, and lo! joy was not 
 there. You have worshiped phantoms of terror, and lo! 
 they could not soothe your dread. The cobwebs of the- 
 ology, spun athwart your window, have shut out the 
 light. You have called yourselves the children of God, 
 yet have you fled from yourselves as from creatures ac- 
 curst. You have fixed your eyes on a life hereafter ; to 
 purchase that you sell this life, and postpone for a little 
 while the enjoyment of those pleasures you covet now. 
 As if God were a broker or a bailiff! The religion you 
 profess does not comfort you: in the devout it breeds 
 sickly foreboding and selfish piety; it connives at the 
 sanctimoniousness of hyjwcrites; it stupefies the ignoi-aut 
 with superstitions; it restrains not the violent; it neither 
 deters the wicked, nor touches the indifferent, nor protects 
 the weak. You have been taught that to be saved you 
 nuist become like clowns and fiightened children; and 
 having dwindh'd to their stature, heaven seems farther 
 from you than ever bi^foro. 
 
 "But I bring yon tidings of men who, living in the 
 morning of the world, looked nj)on the earth and saw that 
 it was fair; of men who erouelied not in shivish woi'sliip 
 of terror, nor deemed it iiidawful to enjoy tlie largess of 
 the gods. Tliey opened win(h)WS in all si(U's of their
 
 62 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 dwelling, and Beauty greeted them wherever they gazed. 
 They made no cage for their mind, but they bade it soar 
 through the aether, believing that it could never outfly the 
 boundless expanses which the Divine Planner had created, 
 nor alight on any perch His fingers had not made. They 
 did not cramp their powers, nor mutilate their faculties ; 
 they found health in the full use of all their gifts, and 
 they learned that were their endowment an hundred-fold 
 richer, it would not suffice to drain the source of joy. 
 They were strong, and heroic were their deeds. They 
 were wise, and cherishing Nature they learned her se- 
 crets, in order that, allied with her laws, they might con- 
 firm their footsteps and perpetuate their existence on the 
 earth. They envisaged death without shrinking, and if 
 they looked to an Elysian life beyond, it was because they 
 had felt, more deeply than other men, that the life here 
 may be elysian and divine. Emulate them. Learn from 
 them the wonder and beauty and joy of living. Learn 
 from them to realize one world at a time." 
 
 In this wise spake the Spirit, and it was as if a stran- 
 ger should come to a community of aged folk, interned 
 in a cheerless valley, and should tell them that just across 
 the mountains lay a plain full of verdure and sunshine, 
 amid which gushed the Fountain of Perpetual Youth. 
 The best minds of Italy were aroused, and before a gen- 
 eration had passed, they were engaged with an eagerness 
 never before devoted to learning, upon the collection and 
 interpretation of that classical literature which they be- 
 lieved contained the precious gospel. And immeasur- 
 able were the results to which that movement led; for 
 mankind, like Antaeus, gathers fresh vigor from every 
 contact with Nature, and till now, for more than a thou- 
 sand years, mankind had ignored Nature. 
 
 The Renaissance liberated the intelligence and rein- 
 stated reason; it was, as ]Vlichelet has tersely expressed 
 it, the discovery of man and the discovery of the world.
 
 THE rena;ssance. 63 
 
 That theological conception of both which had gi*own 
 up (luring the Dark and Middle Ages, and which, the 
 Church insisted, embraced all truth, was now seen to 
 have no basis in fact, being but a nightmare spawned by 
 ascetic brains. The Renaissance proved the continuity of 
 human development, — a view condemned as sacrilegious 
 by dogmatists, who had asserted that a great and impass- 
 able gulf rolled between those who lived before Christ and 
 those who, born since his time and believing on him, were 
 ransomed from everlasting punishment by his sacrifice. 
 This narrow and abominable creed, which set apart a 
 little flock of the elect and doomed the majority of the race 
 to perdition, inevitably exalted faith above conduct and 
 struck at the roots of virtue by assuming that the good- 
 nes-^ of the best of the ancients was of no avail, whereas 
 the wickedest of moderns could from his deathbed sneak 
 into heaven by acknowledging Christ. As if the moral 
 laws were not eternal, but were first invented when 
 Christ, their pure exemplar, walked among men in the 
 reign of Tiberius! as if the (jreek or Hindoo who had 
 ordered his life by them could fail to be spiritualized 
 by them I Error is nevertheless error, be it maintained 
 by Jew or by Gentile, and charity is charity, whether it 
 sweetens the heart of Samaritan or of Parsce. To this 
 sense of the unity and continuity of mankind the Human- 
 ists gradually rose. 
 
 As long as Catholicism was the only system, who could 
 say tliat it was not the best? But whrn the revival of 
 the study of antiquity introduced anotlier standard, so- 
 called pagan, Catliolicism could be compared with it, — 
 and comparison is the mother of criticism. The intel- 
 lect, after its long servitude to tyrant dogmas, rioted in 
 its freedom and ran to the extreme of indiscriminately 
 despising everything Catholic and of ap])i'()ving every- 
 thing Classic. 
 
 In its intent, however, the lieuui.ssancc was not a rcli-
 
 64 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 gious revolution, like its scion the Reformation ; it was 
 an intellectual solvent. Men plunged eagerly into the 
 newly-discovered sea and brought up pearls which they 
 esteemed more precious than any gems in kingly crown or 
 papal tiara. Little suspecting whither the new impulse 
 was leading them, the highest dignitaries of the Church 
 joined with the humblest lay scholars in pursuit of the 
 antique ideal. To possess a classic manuscript, or to be 
 the patron of a noted Humanist, made the reputation of 
 a bishop ; monks rummaged their archives for long-for- 
 gotten books ; the recovery of a Greek tragedy or of one 
 of Cicero's orations was hailed throughout Christendom 
 as an incalculable benefit; copies of the classics were 
 worth a prince's ransom ; and Pope Nicholas V, in the 
 middle of the fifteenth century, accounted it his proudest 
 glory to be the promoter of that revived paganism which 
 consorted strangely with the Church whose crown he 
 wore. 
 
 The Italian intellect had at last its liberty, but this 
 intellectual deliverance coincided with the complete polit- 
 ical servitude of Italy. The restless republics were no 
 longer free. Each had fallen into the control of a power- 
 ful family which strove to perpetuate its dynasty. The 
 cry was no more "Guelf against Ghibelline," but "Vis- 
 conti against Sforza," or "Medici against Pazzi." First 
 tyrants of the strong arm ; then tyrants of the long purse. 
 Even Genoa and Venice, which retained the semblance of 
 republics, were bound under the tyranny of small oligar- 
 chies. From the fourteenth century, citizens no longer 
 fought for their rights, or for revenge, they hired merce- 
 naries to fight for them ; war itself became a commercial 
 transaction, and the despot who paid best, secured the 
 ablest condottiere and the most troops. Then began that 
 shame of Switzerland, — the leasing of her freemen to 
 crush the efforts of ])(^oples who strove against their mas- 
 ters. Shame indeed, — which has been branded on every
 
 THE RENAISSANCE. 65 
 
 language of Europe, where the word Swiss means not 
 only the dwellers among the Alps, but also the hirelings 
 ever ready to sell their valor to the highest bidder, 
 whether he were the autocrat of the Tuileries or of the 
 Vatican. The employment of mercenaries indicates a 
 decline in patriotism ; it is the sure forerunner of servi- 
 tude. In Italy, as we have seen, patriotism had never 
 been national, but always intensely local. The Floren- 
 tine, for instance, fought heroically for Florence when a 
 rival, like Pisa or Siena, attacked her, but at home, his 
 devotion to faction was stronger than his devotion to the 
 State; and like the Florentine were the other Italians. 
 Whereas the tyrant, who usually owed his power to a 
 partisan triuni})!!, kept it l)y stimulating civic vanity ; he 
 would have it believed that works whereby the strength and 
 lustre of his house were increased were really intended 
 for the glory of the commonwealth. IIow adroit they 
 were, those tyrants I IIow thoroughly they understood all 
 the wiles by which a liigh-spirited and suspicious peoj)le 
 could be brought almost unawares under the yoke ! Tlie 
 vulgar tri('ks — the panem et ci7Tenses—hy which the 
 imperial tyrants had amused and lulled the Konum i)op- 
 ulace could not have lured the intellectual Tuscans; for 
 them the decoy must be more spiritual and move cimning. 
 So the tyrants of the Kenaissance encouraged Humanism 
 in all its forms. They drew round themselves wliosocver 
 was eminent in letters or in art. At their conrts, the 
 manifold genius of Italy had full play to express itself in 
 everything, except in government. Outside of this res- 
 ervation, the ])oet, painter, or scholar was fre(». lie was 
 extolled; lie was almost deified. Pi-inces vied witli eaeli 
 other to secure his services; they weic ready to go to war 
 over him. The spirit of art, which (|uiekened Italy from 
 the fourteenth to the sixteenth century, })oured forth im- 
 pei'isliable works, and the lords of tlie cities shone in the 
 li<rht reHected from those works. Men almost forgot that
 
 66 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Florence was politically enslaved, in their admiration for 
 Lorenzo the Magnificent. He a tyrant? Why, at his 
 symposia at Cajano you might hear him discourse as 
 comrade and equal with Pico and Politian and the strip- 
 ling Buonarotti ! So at night the few bright stars impress 
 us more than do the vast starless spaces. 
 
 These despots were so friendly to the blossoming talents 
 of the Renaissance that some later critics have asserted 
 that only under similar conditions can the highest arts 
 attain full growth, and that the glorious result was well 
 worth the price paid for it, — political freedom. But this 
 inference is false, because it is drawn from too short a 
 retrospect of those causes which prepared the Italians to 
 be masters in art. It was in the earlier days of liberty, 
 in the strife and competition of politics, in the liberalizing 
 activity of commerce, in the spiritualizing influence of 
 faith, that the Italian nature got its keenness, vigor, inten- 
 sity and breadth, — the very qualities which prepared it 
 for Hiimanism. Luxury and licentiousness can never 
 originate great works of art; at most, they can but 
 patronize great artists, who unconsciously derive their 
 powers from a spiritual fund bequeathed to them by 
 ancestors endowed with qualities which luxury does most 
 to destroy. The splendid achievements mistakenly as- 
 signed to the patronage of Lorenzo, and Julius II and 
 Leo X, bear witness to a bygone integrity, without 
 which the reigns of those princes would have been as 
 barren of artistic glory as was the reign of any Byzan- 
 tine voluptuary. 
 
 The Italian genius, prevented by local conditions from 
 pouring itself out in permanent free institutions, flowed 
 all the more impetuously through the sluices which were 
 open. The vision of beauty and of the hoard of know- 
 ledge captivated and for a time absorbed a race which 
 had been tormented by fierce and inconclusive quarrels ; 
 and the tyrants under whose dominion these men fell
 
 THE RENAISSANCE. 67 
 
 shrewdly fostered pursuits which diverted attention 
 from lost liberty, and which clothed tyranny itself in gor- 
 geous robes. And thus the Renaissance — Italy's most 
 precious gift to the modern world — failed to bring last- 
 ing benefit to the Italians, — the only modern people 
 from whom that movement could have originated, or by 
 whom it could have been nurtured : not from this failure, 
 however, should we argue that the Renaissance was bad, 
 nor that the efflorescence of the noble arts must necessa- 
 rily be accompanied by a decay of cliaracter or liberty. 
 
 The fifteenth century, in which the Renaissance rose 
 almost to its zenith in Italy, is in many respects the most 
 important of the Christian era, unless posterity shall 
 assign that distinction to our own century. It witnessed 
 the close of many old influences and the beginning of 
 many new ones which have slowly remodeled the civil- 
 ized world. Among its momentous achievements were 
 the voyages of Columbus to America and of the Portu- 
 guese to India, which not only revealed the sphericity and 
 therefore the extent of the earth, but also threw open 
 new continents to the enterprise and greed of Europeans. 
 And just as Columbus by his voyage westward dispelled 
 ignorance concerning man's terrestrial home, so Coper- 
 nicus, navigating in thought the celestial spaces, ascer- 
 tained that our globe and lier sister planets revolve about 
 the sun, and he surmised, further, that tlie sohir system 
 itself is but one among innumerable stcHar families, of 
 which each star is the parent. This discoveiy is tlie most 
 profound that Science has ever made, if we judge it, as 
 we should judge it, by the conclusions substHpiently de- 
 duced from it ('(mcerning the ])<)sition of the earth in the 
 universe and of man's destiny on tlie earth: for it has 
 swept away th(; Ptolemaic eri-ois on which dogmatic Chris- 
 tianity had elaborated its assunijjtions, and it has shown 
 the eartli to be, not the centre of creation, l)nt a tinv l)all 
 encircled bv luvriads of oihs ineonceivablv vast. As
 
 68 THE DAWN OP ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 there is but one cosmos, these revelations due to the for- 
 titude of Columbus and to the imagination of Copernicus 
 can never be repeated, and Science since their time has 
 but formulated the laws of the material world and of 
 organic life, to which they furnished the clue. 
 
 These were the two supreme achievements of fifteenth 
 century men : but there were many others, almost equally 
 remarkable, whose effect was felt at once. There were 
 those great agents of equality, the invention of printing 
 and the introduction of gunpowder : the former brought 
 the best thoughts of all tim^s into the reach of every 
 reader, thus breaking up the little aristocracy of learn- 
 ing; the latter leveled the disparity between knight and 
 foot-soldier, by supplying the weak with a weapon which 
 made him the peer of the strong, thus shattering a mili- 
 tary system based on bodily force. In politics, there 
 was the crystallization of Western Europe into those units 
 which have existed, in spite of temporary variation, down 
 to the present day. England, having abandoned the long 
 struggle to maintain her sway over part of France, and 
 having healed her internal dissensions between the Houses 
 of York and Lancaster, became a compact nation. 
 France, likewise, being rid of English interference, and 
 having defeated her most dangerous vassal, the Duke 
 of Burgundy, began her independent career. In Spain, 
 the union of the crowns of Castile and Aragon pro- 
 duced a strong monarchy, destined in the next century 
 to take the lead in Europe. All these kingdoms were 
 ostensibly dynastic, but the dynasty in each derived its 
 l^ower from the fact that it had a coherent nation behind 
 it. And now kings began to claim that they rided by 
 "divine right," — a claim originally asserted by the Em- 
 peror to offset the pretensions of the Pope. In Ger- 
 many, the Empire took on irrevocably the character of a 
 local sovereignty hereditary in the House of Hapsburg, 
 while half a score of small princedoms were independent
 
 THE RENAISSANCE. 69 
 
 of it in all but name. Hungaiy reached her liighest 
 renown under John Hunyadi and Matthias Corvinus; 
 Bohemia made a magnificent effort to secure a place 
 among progressive and free States; and the kings of 
 Muscovy, by conquering some of their neighbors and by 
 shaking off the Turkish yoke in the South, laid the 
 foundation for the vast Empire of motlern Russia. Th * 
 Mahometans quenched the Byzantine Empire and estab- 
 lished themselves in Constantinople ; but their advent in 
 Eastern Europe was soon followed by the expulsion of 
 the Saracens from Spain. Throughout Italy, principali- 
 ties and duchies were erected on the ruins of spent repub- 
 lics. The Papacy, returning from its exile at Avignon, 
 made Rome once more the central city of Christendom, 
 and assumed definitively the role of a temporal power, 
 astute and unscrupulous in its political methods, and 
 often shockingly corrupt in its morals. The unity of the 
 Church was disturbed by a schism only less fatal than 
 that of the Reformation to its pretensions of catholicity. 
 The revolt of the Bohemians, one of the noblest of 
 religious movements, but not yet ade(iuately esteemed; 
 the persecution of the Lollards in P^ngland; the first 
 whisperings of Luther's forerunners in Germany; the 
 effort of Savonarola to regenei-ate Florence while a Bor- 
 gian Pope was bestializing Rome ; tlie founding of tlie 
 Inquisition ; — tliese are some of the religious symptoms 
 and prognostics of that prolific centm-y. 
 
 Add to all these the fact tluit tlie Renaissance was 
 sweeping like a vernal inflnencc through every part of 
 the Italian intellect, quickening knowledge, thawing the 
 frosts of dogma, dro])])ing the ])ullen of new liope. and 
 cherishing the buds of Art and I'oetry, wliilst over out- 
 ward Nature it breathed :in atmosphere unspeakaltly 
 enchanting, and you will understand in some measure 
 the marvels of that time. Then originated ciitieisni and 
 that curiosity which tests with the Hamc of reason everv
 
 70 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 phenomenon of life. Then was couched the cataract 
 which dogma had spun, fihn on film, across the vision of 
 man ; he groped no longer pui-blind, but looked at each 
 object point-blank and asked its meaning. He was 
 skeptical of the old explanations, but his was the skepti- 
 cism which stimidates research, in the belief that a final 
 and satisfactory answer can be wrested from the taciturn 
 gods, and not the skepticism of those who, having found 
 every avenue of knowledge end at the foot of a precipice, 
 cry out in despair that there is no thoroughfare. To 
 the man of the fifteenth century all seemed discoverable : 
 he had found the key to the door of the Temple of Life, 
 and as he crossed the threshold an immense hope thrilled 
 him. Possibly, possibly he might discover within the 
 answers to those immemorial secrets, — human origin and 
 destiny, and the principle of being; possibly he might in 
 that holy of holies stand face to face with God! The 
 quest was irresistibly enticing: men set forth on it as 
 enthusiastically as their fathers had set forth on the 
 Crusades ; but now the universe, and not an empty sepul- 
 chre, was to be won. The Church encouraged her priests 
 and prelates to be among the pioneers, and only when she 
 saw that Humanism menaced her very existence did she 
 cry halt ; but it was long before she was obeyed, even in 
 outward acts of conformity. For then it was that Nicholas 
 V and Pius II, both intoxicated with the new paganism, 
 derived more glory from their patronage of the classic 
 revival than from their triple mitre. Then it was that 
 Brimelleschi, Ghiberti, and Donatello, Masaccio, Fra 
 Angelico, the Bellini, Carpaccio, Lippi, and Botticelli 
 made the arts once more the interpreters of the soul ; when 
 Leonardo da Vinci, endowed with nearly every faculty, 
 and each a master's, attained his prime; when the court 
 of Alfonso was renowned at Naples, when the Medici 
 gave Florence splendor in lieu of freedom, and the Vis- 
 conti made Milan magnificent; then it was that Michael
 
 THE RENAISSANCE. 71 
 
 Angelo, Raphael, Titian, and Giorgione were born in 
 Italy, and when, beyond the Alps, Memling and Van 
 Eyck flourished, and Diirer and Holbein were born; 
 when Luther and Erasmus grew up in Germany, and 
 Rabelais, who was to paint with sardonic humor the para- 
 doxes of the new age, passed from boyhood to youth in 
 France. Verily, a marvelous century I And how many 
 of the names by which we refer to it were Italian !
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 REACTION AND DECLINE. 
 
 The century which followed brought only disaster to 
 Italy, — disaster embittered by the remorse which comes 
 with the knowledge that the humiliation has been de- 
 served, — humiliation all the deeper when contrasted with 
 the intellectual and aesthetic superiority of the victims. 
 The genius of Italy supplied Christendom with the price- 
 less agents of liberty and culture, — as Greece had sup- 
 plied Rome, and Rome her Teutonic conquerors, — at the 
 very time when the Italians showed that they were inca- 
 pable of using liberty, and that culture without civic and 
 personal morals is as the apples of Sodom. During the 
 Middle Age, Italy had been frequently ravaged by the 
 expeditions of the German Emperors, who had at least 
 the excuse that they came to assert their titular right. 
 Many Popes had renewed the invitation first sent by 
 Gregory III to Charles Martel. Charles of Anjou had 
 established a French dynasty at Naples ; John of Bohemia, 
 the Duke of Athens, Ladislaus of Hungary, and the 
 Aragonese princes, had each left an impress more or less 
 ephemeral. But now, in the sixteenth century, Italy 
 became the prey of invaders who could plead neither 
 feudal rights nor an ill-advised invitation, — imperial 
 burglars and royal robbers, whose sole object was to 
 plunder the treasure which she could amass but not de- 
 fend. French and German and Spaniard fought over the 
 booty they wrested from her, turning her fertile plains 
 into battlefields, and making her cities desolate with 
 pillage and slaughter. Her riches and her enlightening
 
 REACTION AND DECLINE. 73 
 
 influence passed over Alps and beyond the sea, but for 
 her there was joy no more. And when the foreigner 
 paused in his cruelty, the inveterate feuds of her native 
 tyrants burst forth afresh. Her princes were no longer 
 of the stamp of Lorenzo the Magnificent, and of Freder- 
 ick of Urbino : bastard Medici were Dukes of Florence ; 
 the Farnese lorded it at Parma and Piacenza; the papal 
 throne passed from Medici to Farnese, then to Caraffa, 
 then to Borghese. What were the aims and methods of 
 a tyrant you read in Machiavelli's ''Prince." Perfidy 
 and cunning were then the highest qualities of the gov- 
 ernor; fawning and deceit, of the governed. Personal 
 valor had departed; private morals, whether of honesty 
 in man or chastity in woman, were not looked for. De- 
 bauch produced now imbecility and now blood-madness, 
 — a diabolical desire to kill, which waxed greedier in 
 killing. The records of almost any noble family at that 
 period would furnish episodes more abominable than the 
 delirium of a modern French novelist could invent.^ 
 Even the virtuous remnant held itself not aloof from the 
 wicked majority, — a dismal and significant fact. Pietro 
 Aretino, an epitome of foul sensuality and of intellectual 
 effrontery, was the favorite of princes and the comrade 
 of poets, painters, and philosophers. Titian had him for 
 an intimate, even Michael Angelo, the austere, addressed 
 him as "my lord and brother."'-^ In Benvenuto Cellini, 
 you have an exam})le as distinct and amazing as in Are- 
 tino, — of the sixteenth eentury Italian; and in lago, 
 Shakespeare has iimiiortalized another eommon ty])e. 
 
 Italians in their days of l)()n(lage have been too ready 
 to point to this era as the most splendid in their history. 
 
 ^ Eleven iiiuiubei-s of the Medici fa^iiily (•aiiie ti) violent ends between 
 lol]") and l."),S."). The crimes of the Ceiui. of \'ittoii:i Aceoranihoni and 
 others, were not e.\eej)tional. 
 
 - liime e Prose di M. -1. I'uoniirntti (Milan. l>^l.'i). j). "Jl-M. Tintoiet, 
 liowever, treated Aretino as he deserved ; see Kidolti's work on \'enetiau 
 Painters.
 
 74 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 How they have extolled the age of Leo the Tenth and of 
 the House of Este, and forgotten the shame implied in 
 the supremacy of such princes ! The splendor was that 
 of a burning edifice, which for a time illumines the twi- 
 light; then embers and flickering jets of flame; then 
 ashes and desolation and darkness. Before the end of 
 this century, every talent by which Italians had pur- 
 chased glory was spent. Painting had descended through 
 the stages of mannerism, coarseness, and brutality, to 
 ineptitude ; flourishing latest in Venice, where there was 
 still a phantom of civic independence, and dying there 
 with Tintoret, the last of the masters ; to be revived now 
 and then by some school of eclectics, who fumbled among 
 the works of the dead for ornaments and inspiration. 
 Poetry, already become an elegant diversion, was silent 
 after Tasso. Classical study was fossilizing through ped- 
 antry, or volatilizing through dilettanteism. Statecraft 
 meant bargaining with hravi and concocting poisons. 
 The Renaissance, the noblest regenerative influence man 
 had felt since the introduction of Christianity, had failed 
 in Italy. The tidings of joy that the Angel had brought 
 to the fourteenth century were now a mockery. Why, 
 we ask, should this be? Why should a message of truth 
 and life mislead men to error and death? Was it not 
 because the message of the Renaissance had been per- 
 verted, just as Christianity itself had been perverted? 
 Was it not because the Italian character, through lack 
 of moral and political soundness, coidd absorb only what 
 was intellectual or aesthetic in that inspiration? Under 
 the mediaeval Church, the moral nature of the Italians 
 had sunk so low that it responded as little to the best 
 ethics of paganism as to the precej)ts of Christ. Through 
 superstition and terror, the Church could still hold the 
 peasants, but over the educated she was powerless. They 
 had l)efore them the example of a profligate priesthood, 
 to show how completely holy functions can be severed
 
 REACTION AND DECLINE. 76 
 
 from righteous living. The Church insisted that no mat- 
 ter how vicious the priest, the offices performed by him 
 could not be affected; the water was always pure, no 
 matter how foul the vessel that held it. And the Ital- 
 ians came to look upon conduct as independent of princi- 
 ple ; live how they might, they could buy indulgences, at 
 the price fixed by the Church auctioneers. The revival 
 of classic learning appealed, therefore, to their intellect 
 and not to their morals ; the masters of Greece and Home 
 stimulated their artistic instinct and whetted their wit, 
 but failed to ui)lift their character; and before long it 
 was not /Eschylus nor Sophocles,^ not Plato, nor Tacitus, 
 nor Marcus Aurelius, to whom they listened, but Ovid 
 and Martial and Anacreon, and those other ancients who 
 have recorded, and in recording have gilded, the vices of 
 Greece and Rome. And from preferring these authors, 
 it was but a step to imitating them. 
 
 The Kenaissance, then, had not in Italy a firm moral 
 nature to build upon, nor was there any other command- 
 ing motive, such as patriotism, to counteract the tendency 
 to local and personal selfishness. Everybody worked for 
 his private glory and his own gain. The intellectual 
 liberty proclaimed by the Renaissance sank into license ; 
 individualism was exaggerated to amazing proportions ; 
 not character, but success, was the object of desire, and 
 success justified any baseness, any crime. Self-respect 
 and its twin self-control were not; neither was tliere rec- 
 ognition of duty to others, of a common Immanity and 
 common interests, for wliich selfish desires must be re- 
 nounced. Where could there be fellowship when each 
 man saw in his fellow a rival, an enemy, bent on ])ossess- 
 ing the j)rize which botli coveted, whether that })rize were 
 
 ' I recall IK) llciiaissanco inastcrpiecu inspired l)y cltluT of tlu'se trage- 
 dians, or by Homer. Tiie imiiatiiial aniDiirs of Jiij)iter. the anties of 
 satyrs, nyniphs and fauns of (lonl)tful respectability, supply, on tlio con- 
 trary, the best niiustei-s with thenus.
 
 76 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 the tyranny of a city or the favor of a prince, the em- 
 braces of a mistress or the wide-echoing reports of fame? 
 
 The lesson of the Renaissance in Italy is plain to read. 
 The intellectual nature divorced from the moral nature 
 may burn never so brightly for a time, but it will surely 
 destroy itself at last. Man may build him a palace of art 
 or a treasury of knowledge, and shut himself in it, and 
 declare that here is all he needs, that the interests of his 
 fellows concern him not. But by and by those frescoed 
 walls shall begin to contract ; the light of the sun and the 
 voices of humanity shall enter no more ; the wretch shall 
 shriek for assistance, but no one shall hear him, and that 
 palace which was the pride of his selfishness shall fall 
 upon him and be his tomb. In nations not less than in 
 men, the surety of permanence is the blending of en- 
 lightenment and integrity, of mind and soul. That is 
 not culture which does not purify and sweeten conduct, 
 embodying in fair deeds the beauty which delights the 
 spirit. "The beautiful is higher than the good, because 
 it includes the good," — so runs Goethe's maxim: but, 
 alas for the Italians of the Renaissance ! their beautiful 
 included not the good, and therefore their arts from 
 being spiritual became intellectual, and from intellectual 
 they became carnal. 
 
 The sixteenth century, which witnessed this culmination 
 and decline in Italy, ushered in the Reformation beyond 
 the Alps. The first aim of the reformers was to correct 
 the abuses in the Church ; but these were found to be so 
 inveterate that it was impossible to say which was Church 
 and which abuse. So the Lutherans organized a new 
 Church to suit themselves. By this act they postulated 
 the right of every person to liberty of conscience, the 
 chief boon of Protestantism, although Protestants have 
 often been as quick as Catholics to persecute dissenters. 
 As by the revival of classical learning another standard 
 of life had been recovered, by which to judge Catholicism,
 
 KEACTION AND DECLINE. 77 
 
 SO long the only standard ; so by the expansion of Prot- 
 estantism, Europe had the benefit of a further compar- 
 ison. We might suppose that the Italians, who had been 
 the first to welcome the Kenaissance, would have been 
 eager to accept the lieformation, the offshoot of the 
 Renaissance; on the contrary, they were scarcely moved 
 by it, and for these reasons : the educated Italians were 
 so debased that they were indifferent to religion ; there 
 were no princes who, like many in the North, espoused 
 Protestantism for political reasons ; and finally, when the 
 hierarchy discovered that it had something more than a 
 monkish squabble to deal with, — that, in fact, the Ger- 
 man movement threatened the overthrow of papal power 
 at home and abroad, — the instinct of self-preservation 
 warned it to reject compromise and to stamp out every 
 shoot of heresy on Italian soil. Each priest, each monk 
 in Italy could be relied upon to uphold the institution to 
 which he owed his livelihood ; the princes, many of whom 
 belonged to papal families, and the aristocracy, which was 
 copartner with the Church in the enjoyment of special 
 privileges, knew that the Church was their best friend. 
 While in the North, therefore, political considerations 
 had far more influence than is usiially acknowledged in 
 deciding rulers to take up the popular religious reforms 
 as a means to their personal advancement,^ there were 
 lacking in Italy both popular enthusiasm and leaders to 
 direct it. 
 
 Thus the Reformation saved the Papacy from complete 
 collapse. Another century <>f uniiiteriui»te(l dei-ay, sueli 
 as had gone ou between 1300 and loOO, must have left it 
 moril)nn(l. Rut the a])])ear;inee of a rival I'oused it to 
 make a desperate struggle for life. The liuiuisition be- 
 
 ^ T nf'od hardly refer to tlic niotivfs for wliioli Henry VIII threw over 
 Catholieisni in Knf;laiul. E(jiially wmldly and strikiiifj' wjis the conversion 
 of Sweden to Protestantism; seel*. IJ. Watson: Tlic Switlish Ixn'iilatinn 
 (Boston, l.SSti),
 
 78 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 came its incomparable instrument for detecting and pun- 
 ishing heretics ; the Company of Jesus, composed of men 
 as subtle in intellect as they were zealous in spirit, be- 
 came its chief agent in sowing the seeds of reaction. At 
 the Council of Trent, Romanism, like the arrogant but 
 fond Danish king, planted its throne on the beach and 
 said to the inflowing tide, " Thus far shalt thou go and no 
 farther;" and even to-day, although the waves have 
 plainly swept in, engulfing that throne in their resistless 
 rise^ the Pope, from his rock of refuge farther inland, re- 
 peats that forbiddance in tones just as haughty, and there 
 are those who wovild fain believe that the waters will 
 obey him. We must not, however, deny to some of the 
 promoters of the Catholic reaction the admiration due to 
 sincerity ; Loyola and Bellarmine were as sincerely fanat- 
 ical as Calvin and Knox, Bonner was as mercilessly ear- 
 nest as Cranmer or Latimer. Even the Inquisition, whose 
 name has become loathsome to the tongue, was, from the 
 Catholic standpoint, salutary in purpose and consistent in 
 method : for the vitalest concern to every man is the ever- 
 lasting welfare of his soul, and, once admitting that any 
 Church controls the means to tliat welfare, she is in duty 
 bound to save him from perdition by stretching him on 
 the rack, or even by burning him, — in order that he may 
 not corrupt other souls, if, after long persuasion, he re- 
 mains incorrigible. We need waste no time in explod- 
 ing this theory, which is the logical outcome of every 
 creed pretending to be infallible, and which once seemed 
 equally true to Puritan and Papist ; we have learned that 
 genuine devoutness cannot be superinduced by wrenching 
 limbs asunder, nor by any physical torture, and that 
 ideas cannot be destroyed by the fire which consumes the 
 body : to state such beliefs is to refute them. 
 
 Just at this time, therefore, when the genius of Italy 
 was nearing the limit of its superb artistic productive- 
 ness, when the last spark of conunuual liberty had been
 
 REACTION AND DECLINE. 79 
 
 quenched, and the moral sense was dullest, the Church 
 tightened the bonds of her authority over the minds and 
 consciences of the Italians. Her dogmas were more 
 formal, her rules more explicit than ever before; and 
 she had agents more alert and powerful for seizing those 
 who were suspected, and for punishing those convicted of 
 heresy. As a result, she secured a general outward con- 
 formity to her commands. Skepticism and irreligion did 
 not cease, they merely ceased from openly avowing them- 
 selves. Among a people where few had deep moral con- 
 victions, it was not to be supposed that many would jeop- 
 ard their lives by proclaiming themselves unorthodox; 
 martyrdom seemed foolish, wlien life and the i)rivilege of 
 free-thinking could be bought cheap by performing the 
 outward acts prescribed by the Church. If with })istol 
 cocked you spring upon an unarmed man and say, " Pro- 
 fess what I tell you, or die," he will probably submit, 
 es])ecially if he happens to have no belief which he deems 
 worth dying for. 
 
 Catholicism, then, assumed that character in Italy 
 which it retained down to the middle of the present cen- 
 tury. Those who believed it at all, believed it bigotedly ; 
 the skeptical were either silent or disingenuous. For 
 all there was a rigid formality, which the devout bowed 
 to voluntarily, the doubting as a matter of prudence. 
 Superstition spread. Government, intrusted to priests, 
 or to the parasites of incapable tyrants, ])ecanie as ineffi- 
 cient as corrupt. Nepotism controlled tlie Tapacy. The 
 Italian, debarred from exercising himself in eivie affairs, 
 and forbidden to use his reason outside of tlie pinfold 
 of dogma, frittered away his intellect over trifles. lie 
 vaunted his recondite ei'udition. He anuised himself by 
 writing jjonderous works on iiisignitieant tlieines, carry- 
 ing to an extreme that fasliion of the hitc Kenaissanct; 
 wliich substituted Latin for Italian. To turn a period 
 like Cicero, to mimic Martial in an epigram, were the
 
 80 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 aims of every one who pretended to cultivation. If we 
 could believe the tablets and epitaphs which meet the 
 stranger's eye in every town in Italy, recording that 
 "this was the house," or "this is the tomb of So-and-So, 
 the peer of Virgil in poetry, of Cicero in eloquence, of 
 Horace in wit," we must conclude that the Italian intel- 
 lect was never so luxuriant as in the two centuries be- 
 tween Tasso and Alfieri. But the great number of those 
 immortals and the unstinted praise make us suspicious. 
 Those little reputations of a village, those heroes of a 
 clique, those fireflies which the uncritical mistook for 
 stars, what were they but indications of the intellectual 
 beggary of that time? Affectation pervaded manners 
 and the arts. Painting still had some skill of technique, 
 but no soul nor taste ; even color, the supreme gift of the 
 Venetians, became ashen and ghastly,^ as if dissolution 
 were near. Sculpture and architecture blustered in the 
 bombast of the Baroque School, and then simpered in the 
 puerilities of the Rococo. Yet there was endless talk 
 about art; and the collections of paintings and statues, 
 that are among the most precious visible products of the 
 Renaissance, were gradually formed. Elegance of a cer- 
 tain pompous sort was not wanting to the intercourse of 
 the nobility. Ecclesiastical pageants were never more 
 magnificent. How many millions of candles — from 
 those tallow lights at a penny which the poor burn to 
 solace the souls of friends in Purgatory, to those huge 
 standards of wax, too heavy for one man to carry, and 
 kindled only on state occasions — were consvmied at 
 Italy's myriad altars every year? How many hundred 
 millions in a century? Festivals of the Church, proces- 
 sions, banquets, and celebrations of the nobility, the lay- 
 ing out of parks, the embellishment of villas, the erection 
 of votive chapels and mausoleums, — on ends such as 
 
 ^ As in the works of Tiepolo, the most prominent Venetian painter of 
 the eighteenth century.
 
 REACTION AND DECLINE. 81 
 
 these prelates and nobles spent the wealth whic^h, accord- 
 ing to the shrewd system they maintained, flowed through 
 the channels of privilege into their yawning coffers. 
 
 Beyond the Alps, great events and pregnant changes 
 were to record : a Cromwell in England, a Grand Mon- 
 arque in France, the sturdy independence of the Dutch, a 
 Thirty Years' War in Germany, Sweden striding confi- 
 dently into the European arena, the Electorate of Bran- 
 denburg expanding into the Kingdom of Prussia, Mus- 
 covy waxing ominously strong in the North, and in 
 America the sapling liberty transplanted from England 
 growing into a tree, — all this, while Italy remained inert 
 and backward, scarcely noting what occurred. And she 
 in her turn was forgotten by her neighbors, except when 
 they coveted her riches or passed her provinces as mar- 
 riage dowers from one prince to another. Si)ain was her 
 taskmaster, — Spain the bigoted, the bloodthirsty, the 
 corrupting. Were it not for the business and intrigues 
 of the papal court with the rest of the Catholic world, we 
 might declare that Italy had no concern in the interna- 
 tional life of Europe for more than two hundred years. 
 IIow, indeed, could it be otherwise? Had not the Coun- 
 cil of Trent decreed that progress was damnable, that tlie 
 Renaissance shoiild be expunged, and that Italians should 
 slink back into the condition of the Middle Ajje?
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SCIENCE AND FOLLY. 
 
 At last Italy seems hopelessly fallen. Corroding 
 dogmas, tireless Jesuits, a vindictive Inquisition, and the 
 Spaniards have like fabled vampires settled upon her 
 exhausted body to suck out the last drop of life-blood. 
 The mission of Spain has been to brutalize whatever 
 people she has ruled; the Huns of old slaughtered the 
 bodies, the modern Spaniards have spared the lives only 
 to befoul the soids of their victims. To Italy they did, 
 indeed, bring peace, — but what a peace! "The inva- 
 sions ceased, " says Balbo : " for the stranger who hectored 
 us screened us from invaders. Intestine wars ceased: 
 the same stranger took away their cause by bridling 
 national ambitions. Popular revolutions ceased: the 
 stranger bridled the peoples I " ^ From the Treaty of 
 Cateau-Cambresis (1559) onward, a black shadow man- 
 tled Italy, — the shadow of the iniquities of Spain. 
 
 Nevertheless, in spite of political and moral decadence, 
 the Italian genius was not dead. It exercised itself in 
 the Drama and in Music, — the only arts which, like 
 exotics in a greenhouse, can flourish amid despotism. 
 Early in the sixteenth century, dramatic litei-ature had 
 been revived on classic models by Machiavelli, Dovizio, 
 and Ariosto, but the Drama, being tied to the apron- 
 strings of its venerable nurse, — the Unities, — never 
 learned to walk ; whereas low comedy, the farce, and the 
 burlesque, springing from humble native origin, and hav- 
 ing neither Plautus nor Terence for sponsor, nor Aristo- 
 
 1 Balbo: Storia d' Italia (10th ed.), p. ol3.
 
 SCIENCE AND FOLLY. 83 
 
 tie for pedagogue, grew up to represent the life of the 
 lower classes, and was at last introduced into polite society 
 by Goldoni, the most genuine of comic writers. Pales- 
 trina was the earliest master of musical composition ; after 
 him Music gradually became secularized, and, in Peri's 
 opera "Euridice," it was first wedded to the Drama. 
 
 But the most important field in which the Italian gen- 
 ius labored between the Council of Trent and the French 
 Revolution was that of Science; and as if to symbolize 
 the change from Art to Science, Galileo was born on the 
 day of Michael Angelo's death (February 18, 1564). The 
 men of science worked amid the greatest obstacles: on 
 the one hand, civil and ecclesiastical rulers were united 
 to strangle free investigation; on the other, pedants and 
 dilettanti took no interest in and gave no encouragement 
 to investigators. Only recently have we come to know 
 how many of the ideas which are the leaven of our time 
 were engendered by neglected Italians, whose fame has 
 been inherited by more fortunate Germans, Frenchmen, 
 or Britons. Were the cryjjtographic notes of Leonardo 
 da Vinci fully edited, it would be found that he deserved 
 to rank among the foremost inventors and natural philos- 
 ophers of the world; for receptivity so universal, obser- 
 vation so keen, a power to si)e('ialize so perfectly blended 
 with a power to generalize, have perha})s never been 
 developed to so remarkalde a degree as in him; but 
 his encyclopiedic discoveries were veiled for three centu- 
 ries behind a cipher, and an army of investigators liad 
 caught up with and surpassed him, before liis ciplicr was 
 interpreted. This hap])ened also to (iionlaiio Bruno, 
 the ])re(*urs()r of modern rationalists. His restless mind 
 wandered thrf)ugli the domain of knowledge, came to 
 the frontier lu'yond whieli tlie Clnireh asserted tliere was 
 nothing, crossed it as galliai-dly as a swallow Hies over a 
 hedge, and found a limitless, living universe, of which 
 Christendom and the earth ai-e but a speck. And when.
 
 84 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 in his unmethodic roaming, he returned and told of some 
 of the wonders he had seen, the Inquisition caught him 
 in its ckitches, imprisoned him, tortured him, burnt him. 
 A little earlier than this, Paleario, another liberal thinker 
 who had dared to say that the "Inquisition is a poniard 
 aimed at all writers," perished at the stake; a little later 
 Vannini, teaching at Toulouse what we call rationalism, 
 and the Church calls heresy, was seized and done to death. 
 Whatever may be the value of these men's speculations, 
 the preciousness of their example cannot be blinked; 
 right or wrong, they died for their ideas, — and there is 
 no higher test of sincerity than that. They by their mar- 
 tyrdom and others by their exile proved that Italians 
 were capable of sacrificing everything for their convic- 
 tions. ^ Bruno had declared among other "abominable 
 heresies" that there are innumerable worlds ; shortly after 
 his death a more illustrious victim, Galileo, was threat- 
 ened with torture for affirming this and other corollaries 
 of the Copernican system. One would think that the 
 theory of the plurality of worlds testified to the majesty 
 of an omnipotent God, but the Inquisition thought other- 
 wise ; for the inhabitants of those other worlds must need 
 salvation, and Christ must therefore be kept busy travel- 
 ing from world to world on his redeeming mission. The 
 doctrine of the Incarnation was sufficiently improbable 
 when applied to the earth only ; to conceive of the same 
 process as going forward successively in all the habitable 
 orbs of the firmanent was to stretch improbability even 
 beyond the clasp of faith. So the Church declared this 
 new theory, which puzzled faith and degraded man 
 from his solitary honor as the peculiar favorite of the 
 Almighty, to be heretical. From this example we per- 
 ceive how quick the Cliurch was to scent danger in scien- 
 tific investigation, (ialileo was not, indeed, burned, but 
 he was harassed until his spirit broke. Contempora- 
 
 ^ Cf. Berti: Giordano Bruno da Nola : Sua Vita r Sua Dottrina (1889),
 
 SCIENCE AND FOLLY. 85 
 
 neous with him, Campanella, a pioneer in scientific study, 
 who urged that the laws of Nature must be sought in Na- 
 ture, and not in Aristotle, suffered, partly for political 
 reasons and partly for alleged heresies, an imprisonment 
 lasting twenty-seven years. Sarpi, an eminent scholar 
 and the best historian of his time, was secretly menaced 
 by the Jesuits. Sucli the treatment awaiting men whose 
 researches might conflict with the assumptions which the 
 Council of Trent had mistaken for eternal truth. Brains 
 and perseverance were not wanting in Italy; but with 
 what cheer could they be applied when the path of 
 Science, always arduous, led to the dungeon or the stake? ^ 
 Patiently, and for the most part obscurely, those dis- 
 ciples of science toiled; with the menace of the Inqui- 
 sition always hanging over them, yet unable to frighten 
 them from tlieir brave and genial task. Like the earth- 
 worms, which bore underground to fertilize the soil, their 
 invaluable work was unappreciated. On the surface, 
 butterflies, gaudy of hue and indolent of flight, creatures 
 without sting or industry, flitted to and fro, complacent 
 and careless ; as if the eternal forces of the universe had 
 been in travail but to bring forth butterflies, the frail 
 product and glory of creation. Behold the noblesse of 
 Italy disporting itself during the eighteenth century, after 
 tlie manner of jeweled insects; behold higli-born and 
 pedanti(4 Italians reduced to silliness, yet even in silliness 
 proving themselves masters. P^very pe<)])le has hud its 
 interims of affectation, its holidays of folly, its nights of 
 moonshine and sentimentality; but the Italian Arcadians 
 
 ^ Ainoiipf many names fleservin<j' mention, I can sjHK'ify but a few : In 
 Medicine, Falloppio and Vesalius; in Natural History and Pliysics, Torri- 
 celli, Cassini, Hedi, Malpig-hi, and Mai;alotti ; in tlie Philosophy of History, 
 Vico ; in Socioloj^y, lieccaria and liaiidini ; in Electricity, (lalvani and 
 Volta ; in Mathematics, Laji:ran^;^e. Lycll (in his Priuriplis nf Uiiil<i<jif) 
 enumerates twenty-one Italians who advamcd th.at science hetwi'cn the 
 sixteenth and nineteenth centuries. See also Lihri's //I'.s/oir* (/(.s Sciim-is 
 Math'indtiques en Ilti/ic.
 
 86 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 surpassed them all. And to follow the Italian genius to 
 the end of its long pilgrimage we must now turn aside 
 into imaginary pastures and listen to the pipings of mock- 
 shepherds and watch the gambols of make-believe shep- 
 herdesses. 
 
 In the year 1690 some poetasters at Rome were wont 
 to go into the neighboring country, where, reclining be- 
 neath pine or chestnut, they read their effusions to each 
 other. Real poetry was long since dead; but now that 
 they had nothing to say, a legion of rhymsters started 
 up to say it. One day, a party of these having gathered 
 in the fields beyond the Castle of St. Angelo, one of them, 
 stirred by the conclusion of a fellow's verses, exclaimed, 
 "Lo, Arcadia has come to life again for us! " All were 
 delighted by this discovery, and they planned forthwith 
 an Academy to be called "The Arcadian." Crescimbeni, 
 whose brain the irreverent described as being "half wood 
 and half lead," was the foremost in this enterprise. The 
 Academy soon flourished. Everybody was eager to be- 
 long to it. Cardinals and priests, judges and cavaliers, 
 ladies and literati, flocked to its meetings. The Arcadian 
 community was established on republican principles, each 
 sheep being as good as his neighbors, whatever difference in 
 rank might separate them in the unpoetical world outside. 
 Jesus Christ was unanimously elected the Tutelar Presi- 
 dent, and Christina, the tomboy ex-Queen of Sw^en, wlio 
 had died on the very day the Academy was projected, was 
 chosen its patroness and honored with funeral rites. The 
 Arcadians met in the parks of its illustrious members. 
 In the Giustiniani Gardens there was an open lawny 
 space encircled by trees, and this they called their "thea- 
 tre," which they provided with two rows of seats, "sim})le 
 and rustic, but })leasing and delicious, being all clothed 
 in odorous myrtle and interwoven with green laurel." 
 Here nymphs and shepherds listened to bucolic poets, or 
 mingled in pastoral dances. They gave classic or mon-
 
 SCIENCE AND FOLLY. 87 
 
 grel-classic names to everything, and to themselves. 
 Beautiful Faustina Maratta was "Aglaura Cidonia," 
 Marchioness Massima was "Fidalma," Kolli was "the 
 modern Propertius,~" macaw -beaked Crescimbeni was 
 "Alfesibeo," Gravina, the learned jurisconsult, was 
 "Opico." They proposed to themselves this task: "to 
 exterminate bad taste, and to prevent its resurrection by 
 pursuing it continually whithersoever it may hide or nest, 
 even into fortresses and villas least known and least sus- 
 pected." The Arcadians thought themselves crusaders: 
 not theirs to free the Holy Sepulchre from Paynim foes, 
 but "to redeem Parnassus, Helicon, Pindar, Hippocrene, 
 Apollo, the Muses, and Pegasus, fallen under the bond- 
 age of Christian dogs." They reckoned by 01ymi)iads, 
 they celebrated Olympic games. Gravina wrote the laws 
 of the Academy, which were engraved on tablets of mar- 
 ble and preserved in the serhatojo or sacristy. Crescim- 
 beni not only directed the revels of the Arcadians and 
 wrote their chronicles in many great volumes, but he also 
 edited what we may not irreverently term the official 
 Arcadian cook-book, containing recipes for preparing 
 canzoni and sonnets, maggiolate, cobole, soroni, motti, 
 mottetti, strambotti, rispetti, barzelate, disperate and 
 contradisperate, matinades and serenades, gypsy-songs, 
 oracles, nenie, epicedi, birthday odes, and all other varie- 
 ties of Orphic pastry. Angiolo di Costanzo, a mediocre 
 sonneteer of the sixteenth century, was singled out as the 
 master for Arcadians to imitate, and a part of the Arca- 
 dian ceremonial was the reading of a dissertation on one 
 of Costanzo's sonnets. The aeuti^ (^resciinbeni declared 
 that four of these sonnets contain "all that is necessary 
 for Tuscan lyric poetry." 
 
 Dom fJolm V of Portugal was so grateful for honors 
 showed liiju at Kome by tlu; Arcadians, that he bestt)\ved 
 upon them a stri[) of land on the Janiculuni, wliieli they 
 named the Parrhasian Grove, and resorted to in sunnner.
 
 88 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Portraits of distinguished shepherds and shepherdesses 
 were hung there, and when Arcadians died, — for death 
 enters even Arcadia, — magnificent pyramids were raised 
 to them. The fame of the Academy spread so rapidly 
 that within two years fifty-eight colonies had been estab- 
 lished outside of the capital, and the colonists numbered 
 above thirteen hundred. The peninsula was infected by 
 a species of epidemic, a Phoeban influenza, whose victims 
 sneezed in rhythm. The business of saving souls and of 
 governing States seemed trivial and sordid to these thir- 
 teen hundred poets, amid whose twittering the notes of 
 vulgarer Academies, like the Intronati, the Stravaganti, 
 the Umidi, or the Imbecilli, were drowned. 
 
 What pictures the imagination paints of plump dow- 
 agers weaving laurel crowns for venerable but still am- 
 orous prelates! Of shepherds, sad, mad, passionate, dis- 
 consolate, breathing their sighs upon the zephyrs of the 
 Villa Odescalchi or wandering rueful through the melan- 
 choly cypress-lanes of the Villa d' Este ! Of pompous 
 Gravina, quitting legal folios to chirp madrigals in Fidal- 
 ma's bower! Of Crescimbeni, having piped all day on 
 his syrinx, devoting his night to immortalizing Arcadia 
 in his history ! A herculean task he found it, for the 
 poets to be immortalized soon numbered thousands, and 
 new ones hourly appeared : so that in despair he wrote all 
 their names on slips of paper, and shook them up, and 
 drew forth a few for Fame to blazon. Can we not see 
 Monsignor Daphnis and the Countess Chloe billing and 
 cooing beside an Arcadian haycock, or Narcissus, ■ — 
 known in plain life as Abbe Frugoni, — gazing at him- 
 self in a fountain ? And here His Eminence the Cardi- 
 nal, transformed into Cory don, adores Her Grace the 
 Duchess, — who as Phyllis or Dorinda tends imaginary 
 sheep; what time the Duke, with periwig on head and 
 crook in hand, frisks over the sward or darts into the 
 shadowy bosks, in pursuit of some portly nymph, still 
 coy, though the mother of many children !
 
 SCIENCE AND FOLLY. 89 
 
 Let us draw near and listen to some of these poets. 
 Lucinio — whose real name is Meloncelli (little melons) 
 — yearns to be turned into a swan, for no evil purpose, 
 but simply that he may expire singing praises to the 
 Delphic god. Siralgo wishes to be changed into a laurel, 
 so that the Muses may come and cut the name of Delia, 
 his mistress, on the bark. Gantila, a lachrymose, middle- 
 aged gentleman, unable to restrain his tears night or 
 day, forefeels that Cupid will turn him into a river; and 
 he is not sorry, because he can then serve as a mirror to 
 the beautiful but obdurate face which he has borne and 
 still bears in his bosom. Thyrsis tells us that having 
 plaited a little straw basket, he put a kiss in it and sent 
 it to his sweetheart; but Cui)id slyly hid his darts 
 therein, and when the unwary Nigella lifted the cover, 
 she was of course hopelessly wounded.^ Oh edifying in- 
 nocence of shepherds in broadcloth and shepherdesses in 
 brocades I Having heard each other's idyls till their 
 Arcadian ears were cloyed, and liaving gamboled till their 
 aristocratic legs were weary, they were served a ban(juet 
 of pastoral dainties, borne by lackeys into a rustic cabin. 
 
 Strange freak of fate I At a time when few or none 
 had any more the capacity to feel passion, — whose voice 
 is poetry, — the wit and rank of a whole people suc- 
 cumljed to this mild delirium, which tliey mistook for the 
 divine poetic frenzy. Then, when there was no genuine 
 sympathy for real she]iherds and husbandmen, nor for 
 any other toiler, the elite of Italy ])nt on this mask of 
 rusticity, not for once only, nor for a single cai'nival of 
 silliness, but for w«>ll-nigh a century. The Arcadians 
 exorcised Marini and all tlie demons of bad taste; tliey 
 had their juV)ilees, at one of whieli they erowned Perfetti, 
 who sang his improvisations to the accompaniment of a 
 harj^sichord ; at another they crowned Corilla ()liiui)ica,''^ 
 
 ' (■rcs(iiiil)i'iii : L' Arcniltd fltiun.'. 171 1 ). pp. ;;i*>-12. 
 '■^ Her roal iiaino \v;us Madilalena Moiu;lli.
 
 90 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 a squint-eyed improvisatriee, whom Madame de Stael 
 subsequently made the heroine of "Corinne." They im- 
 portuned high and low with their honors: Goethe him- 
 seK avoided the absurdity of a coronation at the Capitol 
 only by accepting membership in their Academy and by 
 promising to cultivate the Field of Melpomene. But alas 
 for the ten thousand fleeting ApoUos, and alas for the 
 blissful reign of Bo-peep! Arcadia itself, its legion of 
 poets, its bevies of shepherdesses, — " semi-nymphs, semi- 
 nuns," — its naiads, fauns, and Pythian priestesses, 
 faded into the inane, from which like a vapor they had 
 emerged. Their very names are forgotten, or if one or 
 two — Frugoni's, for instance — be remembered, it is 
 to give personality and a semblance of life to an age of 
 nonsense, which woidd otherwise seem too silly, too fan- 
 tastic, to have ever been real.^ 
 
 Nero fiddled, we are told, while Rome was burning. 
 The aristocracy of Italy danced and piped in equal un- 
 concern during the eighteenth century, when there was 
 kindling a conflagration destined to consume crowns and 
 privileges, and to singe even the vestments of the Pope. 
 Pipe and dance, shepherds and shepherdesses! Frisk, 
 innocent sheep, for the hour is at hand when the wolves 
 shall come. M. Voltaire is turning not only your verses, 
 but also your religion, into ridicule. Can your Church 
 survive that? Contempt follows close upon sarcasm, and 
 after contempt — what ? M. Rousseau, too, is preaching 
 a strange social doctrine; he avows that those rvistics, 
 
 ^ For details see Crescimbeni ; also Emiliani-Giudici and other historians 
 of Italian literature ; in English, Vernon Lee's diffuse but entertaining- essay 
 (in her Studies of the Eighteenth Century in Italy) should be consulted. I 
 quote her clever summary of Arcadian bombast : " The sun cooled itself 
 in the waters of rivers which were on fire ; the celestial sieve, resplendent 
 with shining holes, was swept by the bristly back of the Apennines ; love 
 was an infernal heaven and a celestial hell, it was burning ice and freezing 
 fire, and was inspired by ladies made up entirely of coral, gold thread, 
 lilies, roses, and ivory, on whose lips sat Cupids, shooting arrows which 
 were snakes." Page 11.
 
 SCIENCE AND FOLLY. 91 
 
 whom you condescend to mimic, have hearts and soids, 
 and that, were classes ranked according to nature and 
 natural rights, you would not be uppermost. What if 
 the peasants take counsel of Jean Jacques and forcibly 
 claim their own ; think you to tame their savage breasts 
 with madrigals, or to drive them back by flourishing your 
 ribboned crooks ? Futile questions. Arcadians stoop not 
 to such vulgar fancies ; they reck not what may happen 
 to barbarians beyond the mountains. Butterflies which 
 come in summer believe that svunmer is made for them ; 
 what can they know of other seasons ? Merciful nature 
 bids numbness to precede dissolution, otherwise the 
 agony of death would be too cruel. 
 
 And yet, even in Italy there were little signs and warn- 
 ings that a calamity was approaching. Viewed on the 
 surface, the most important change was the expulsion of 
 the Spaniards and the accession of the Austrians, — a 
 change of taskmaster, but not of conditions. Bourbons 
 of the House of Austria ruled Milan and Mantua, Tus- 
 cany and the Two Sicilies. Leopold, (xrand Duke of 
 Tuscany, framed a code restricting the privilege of the 
 Church in his dominion, and his brother, Joseph the 
 Second, — a skeptic and cynic, — introduced into the 
 Empire reforms that threatened to disestablish Catholi- 
 cism as the State religion. But the Pai)acy, like an 
 experienced coquette, knew the value of persistence, and 
 now by upbraiding, now by caressing, and now by 
 threatening, she recovered her ascendency. Nor should 
 we pass by unnieutioned the efforts of at least one abl(> 
 Pope to ])urify the Curia; nor the su])pression of the 
 .Jesuits. lUit amelioration dependent on one man lasted 
 only his lifetime, and soon the Kevolution came, to make 
 all elianges suspected by tlie civil and hii-ranhieal 
 tyrants, and to reunite Kome and Austiia in a commini- 
 ion of terror. Nevertheless, it is significant that Leopold 
 looked to (^-onomists and pIiiloso[)hers, and not to church-
 
 92 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 men, for counsel, and that he, the son of Maria Theresa, 
 was the first ruler in Italy to respond to the changing 
 current and to propose laws prophetic of the modern 
 spirit. 
 
 Another symptom is the greater frequency and sincer- 
 ity of the utterance by un- Arcadian Italians of their 
 desire to be free. That desire was certainly old. It 
 resounded from Dante's volume, like the undertone of a 
 cataract. Dante predicted the coming of a greyhound 
 who should put to flight the wolves that harried Italy ; he 
 believed that the Emperor could quell the strife of Guelf s 
 and Ghibellines, restore peace and unity to the disor- 
 dered land, and i*estrain the arrogance of the Church. 
 But even before Dante died, the fulfilment of his dream 
 appeared plainly improbable, and though, with the course 
 of time, it became impossible, still the dream itself, the 
 desire, nestled close in the hearts of the noblest Italians. 
 They mistook the isolated and spasmodic outbursts of 
 dying liberty for birth-throes. Petrarch lamented that 
 Italy, "aged, otiose, and slow," seemed not to feel her 
 ills. "AVill she sleep forever, and will no one arouse 
 her? " he exclaimed, appealing to the patriotism of 
 Rienzi.^ "When Rienzi's brief illusion had been dis- 
 pelled, the poet turned to the lords of Italy, and urged 
 them to arm for her liberation. "Behold with pity the 
 tears of your dolorous people, which only from you, after 
 God, await repose; and if you show but one sign of 
 pity. Virtue against Fury will take up arms; and short 
 will be the combat; for the old-time valor in Italian 
 hearts is not yet dead." A noble appeal, but the gran- 
 dees heeded it not.^ Two centuries later, Machiavelli, in 
 closing his treatise, "The Prince," invoked Lorenzo de' 
 Medici, to whom he dedicated that sphinx-like book, to 
 come to the rescue of his country. "I cannot express," 
 he writes, "with what love that redeemer would be 
 
 ^ Canzone a Cola di Rieiizo. " Canzone a' Grand! d' Italia.
 
 SCIENCE AND FOLLY. 93 
 
 received in all the provinces that have suffered through 
 these foreign inundations ; with what thirst for vengeance, 
 with what stubborn faith, with what pity, with what 
 tears. What gates would be shut against him? What 
 peoples would deny him obedience? What envy would 
 oppose him? What Italian would deny him homage? 
 This foreign dominion stinketh in the nostrils of every 
 one."^ But the degenerate Medici could not be moved 
 to noble action. 
 
 The plaint passed on from mouth to mouth, becoming 
 less vehement because the belief that the future could 
 bring succor began to wane. Only the strong heart 
 dares to hope amid adversities. Chiabrera, the courtly 
 verse-maker of the sixteenth century, bade his country- 
 men to arise, not to shake off their tyrants, but to save 
 themselves from even worse ignominy, — the oppression 
 of the Turks. The glory of the past, the freedom that 
 would never return, now inspired the utterance of the few 
 in whom a sense of the dignity of patriotism still throbbed. 
 As among the later Jews, the voices were voices of lam- 
 entation, not of courage; what-might-have-been stifled 
 what-shall-be. Filicaja, in a sonnet which Italians still 
 love, poured out this despairing wail: "Italy, Italy, thou 
 to whom fortune gave the fatal gift of beauty, whence 
 hast thou this dower of infinite woes, whicli, written by 
 great sorrow, thou bearest on thy brow? A\^juld thou 
 wert less beautiful, or at least more strong, so that he 
 who seems to be destroyed by the rays of thy beauty and 
 who yet betrays thee to Death, might fear thee more, or 
 love thee less. For then tliou wouldst not beliold the 
 army - tornnits sweep down from the Alps, nor (iallic 
 troo])s driidi; the blood - tinged wateis of the I'o: nor 
 wouldst thou see thyself, girded witli a sword not thine, 
 fight with the arms of foreign jx'oples, to serve always, 
 
 ' II rn'niipi . tliaj). lit).
 
 94 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 whether victorious or vanquished."^ It is related that 
 when Napoleon's army was crossing the Alps, an ava- 
 lanche swept a bugler from the path into a ravine far 
 below ; and his comrades heard his bugle sound, fainter 
 and fainter, until the snows and cold silenced him : from 
 .such a depth of hopelessness, Filicaja's melancholy note 
 floated to the ears of his countrymen ; and it had many 
 echoes. 
 
 1 Byron paraphrased the opening of this sonnet in Childe Harold, iv, 42.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 NEW VOICES AND REVOLUTION. 
 
 At last, about the time when Arcadians were growing 
 ridiculous even to themselves, Italy was startled by a new 
 voice, — which had in it the resonance of trumpet and 
 drum. Here was no dirge, but a reveille, no lamenta- 
 tion, but a defiance, which rang through the peninsula. 
 For the first time since Tasso, an Italian poet was heard 
 beyond the Alps. Europe was astonished that Italy, the 
 ancient mother of great men, should bear in her old age 
 such a son as Alfieri; but he was i)lainly hers and no 
 changeling, for in his speecli, his gestures, and his mien 
 he resembled the mighty children of her prime. In his 
 life, Alfieri was wild and wayward; e(pially vehement in 
 his appetite for women, his craze for horses, and his ha- 
 tred of tyrants. He galloped over Europe from Lisbon 
 to St, Petersburg in a coach-and-six, not to observe cus- 
 toms nor to admire monuments, but to ease a restlessness 
 which could be eased only by motion. After a youtli of 
 promiscuous libertinism, he centred his affections dui'iiig 
 the last part of liis life on the ('ountess of Albany, wife 
 and subsequently widow of the Young Pretender. Yet 
 his character did not lack higli qualities: lie was as firm 
 in friendship as implacable in enmity: he was without 
 sordidness; he was consistently independent even to 
 haughtiness, in liis demeanor towards ])riiiccs. Tlie ped- 
 antry and mawkislmess of liis contemporaries lie despised, 
 and he ridiculed alike the follies of the Arcadians and the 
 servile imitators of the I'reiicli. A rigid re])ul)liean, he 
 denounced :is uni'cpuliliean the excesses into which the
 
 96 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 French Revolution was urged by Robespierre and St. 
 Just. His tragedies reveal the man. He took for his 
 subjects the career of the Brutuses, of Timoleon, of Saul, 
 and the Conspiracy of the Pazzi, or he revamped the clas- 
 sic legends of Agamemnon, Merope, and Antigone. Any 
 personage, any episode, by which he could illustrate the 
 corruption of kings and the manful resistance of citizens, 
 set his imagination aflame. He breathed no sighs for 
 irrevocable grandeur, no regrets for the past, he chided 
 submissiveness, and instigated revolt. Regicide and the 
 slaying of tyrants he extolled, if freedom could be attained 
 by no other means. 
 
 As Italian literature had been sterile in tragedies, Al- 
 fieri, in supplying this void, was revered as the completer 
 of the intellectual glory of his race. He seemed to tower 
 above Sophocles and Shakespeare, and held that pinnacle 
 until his power and art ceased to be novel. Then his 
 critics, piqued at finding that he had been lifted higher 
 than he deserved, set him down in a place lower than he 
 deserved. By that time the fashion in letters had veered 
 towards Romanticism ; political events had scattered re- 
 publican doctrines everywhere ; men needed no longer to 
 be aroused, but to be guided. So Alfieri's reputation suf- 
 fered, as that of every author whose work has a historic 
 rather than a literary significance must suffer : but now, 
 neither blinded by political hopes nor biased by the ap- 
 peals of a literary clique, we can judge him impartially. 
 We see in liim a man of extraordinary energy, and we 
 may well doubt whether talents purely intellectual ever 
 produced more splendid results. Every trick of rhetoric, 
 every subtlety of oratory, is imder Alfieri's control. His 
 method is that of the French dramatists, who wind up 
 their plot as a boy stretches his catapult, until it seems 
 as if the elastic must break: and then — presto I the 
 missile is discharged, the plot is solved. Your interest 
 is fixed on the tension, on the strength with which the
 
 NEW VOICES AND REVOLUTION. 97 
 
 elastic is drawn, rather than on the accuracy of the aim, 
 Alfieri wastes nothing, and tolerates no superfluities. lie 
 astonishes and excites, but does not charm us; we are 
 dazzled, but not warmed by his genius. We may say of 
 him what Schiller said of Madame de Stael: "In every- 
 thing which we call philosophy, consequently in all the 
 ultimate and highest stages, one is at strife with her, and 
 remains so in spite of all discussion. But nature and 
 feeling are in her better than her metaphysics, and her 
 fine intellect rises to the capacity of genius. She tries to 
 explain, to understand, and to measure everything ; she 
 admits of nothing obscure or unintelligible; and those 
 things which cannot be illuminated by her torch have no 
 existence for her!"^ Qualities similar to these Alfieri 
 possessed so abundantly that he earned a conspicuous 
 place in literature. But it is as an historical figure in 
 the regeneration of Italy that he most concerns us, and 
 will be longest remembered. After two hundred years 
 of rhyming gabblers and drowsy pedants, he came and 
 sjjoke with all the vehemence and vigor of a man. The 
 work before the Italians called for energy, and Alficii 
 was the trumpet through which that call, startling and 
 metallic, was sounded. He blew a strong blast, and the 
 effeminate guitar-strumming was heard no more. 
 
 Contemporary with Alfieri was Parini, a quiet, kindly 
 man, the mildest of satirists, who describes dis])assi()n- 
 ately the follies of society and leaves the reader to laugh 
 at them. The theme of his principal ])oeni is tlie daily 
 life of a fashionable young noble. In liis odes and 
 shorter pieces, he depicts the sini])le virtues or reveals the 
 (!harms of every-day nature. He finds, for instance, in 
 the discovery of vaccination a snl)je(t more worthy tlian 
 battles or con<[u<'roi"s of oui- esteem. His influence may 
 be compared to Cowper's in Kngland; for lie bront;ht 
 poetry ])ack from extravagance and vapidity to tlie cou- 
 
 ' Corn xpimdinci' iM'tin , n <in,lhi <v„l S,/,iil>r (London, IST'.O. ". tT<l.
 
 98 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 templation of actual life, with its common sorrows and 
 pleasures, — unheroic, if you will, and yet often touched 
 by gleams of true sentiment and nobleness. Among the 
 painted Jezebels of Arcadia, his sober Muse walked un- 
 affectedly and at first unobserved, but after a while men 
 turned in disgust from them to her, and made her their 
 model. So Parini has justly been called the regenerator 
 of modern Italian poetry. 
 
 A little younger than Alfieri and Parini were Monti 
 and Foscolo, two men who represented so well the char- 
 acter of Italians at the end of the eighteenth and begin- 
 ning of the nineteenth century, that in reviewing their 
 careers, we shall best understand their countrymen at this 
 period. Italians still spend superlative adjectives when 
 they speak of the talents of Vincenzo Monti, and for the 
 sake of those talents, they generously forgive the igno- 
 miny of his life; but we may doubt whether they still 
 read his poetry with pleasure equal to their praise. Of 
 the historical importance of Monti and his works there 
 can be, however, no question. Born near Alfonsine, in 
 Romagna, in the year 1754, he went to Rome to devote 
 himself to letters. There he found the Arcadians still 
 tending their flocks, and for a while, he chimed in with 
 their pastoral ditties. His first effusions, like those of 
 most receptive youths, echoed the prevailing tone of liis 
 time, but they had in them besides something original 
 and un-Arcadian, that attracted attention. Thanks to 
 the patronage of Cardinal Scipio Borghese, he became 
 erelong the most popular verse-maker in Rome. His 
 was one of those natures to whom it is easy to discover 
 good qualities in those who feed with flattery and clothe 
 wdth honors, and for fifteen years it was his agreeable 
 duty to extol tlie virtues of his protector and to magnify 
 the achievements of the Pope, by whom also he was gra- 
 ciously favored. There is an old story of a Christian lady 
 so benign that she had always something kindly to say
 
 NEW VOICES AND REVOLUTION. 99 
 
 about everybody. One of her family, provoked by her 
 uniform amiability, exclaimed at last, "But you must 
 admit that there's nothing praiseworthy in the Devil!" 
 "On the contrary," replied the good woman, "I think 
 we might well take a lesson from his diligence." Monti 
 likewise had eyes only for the excellence of the Roman 
 court, at a time when less interested critics saw chiefly 
 its faults. Nevertheless, he had a mind which responded 
 quickly to high influences ; he soon scorned the silliness 
 of Arcadia and was stirred by Alfieri, Shakespeare, and 
 Dante. He sympathized in the abstract with heroes and 
 patriots, and expressed his sympathy so far as it was dis- 
 creet to do so, by attributing to his protectors the heroic 
 traits which he admired. Few men have been more 
 richly gifted than he with that intellectual prudence 
 which mixes just as much of radicalism with the antidote 
 of conformity as will make a pleasant draught for those 
 in power. When the French Revolution burst forth, 
 Monti was still in Rome, writing praises of Pius VI, and 
 when, shortly after, Ugo Bassville, a revolutionary dis- 
 ciple, came to the Holy City, preached republican here- 
 sies, and was killed by the mob, Monti was inspired to 
 write one of his most famous poems, in which he repro- 
 bated the bloody events in France. Bassville, in the 
 poem, could expiate his crime of having joined the regi- 
 cides only by passing througli hell and witnessing tlicre 
 the terrific i)unishments decreed for them, and by waiting 
 at the gate of heaven until the Bourbon monarchy sliould 
 be restored to France. Monti, no doubt, had planned to 
 end his poem with a fine peroration, glittering with praise 
 of absolute monarchs and of j)a})al benevolence; but un- 
 fortunately for poetic syunnctry, and for the rejx'utant 
 spirit of IJassville impatient to enter into bliss, the resto- 
 ration of the Bourbons was delayed. Monti ])ublished 
 his woik without its dual canto; his fame inen^ised, but 
 the soul of Bassville still waits.
 
 100 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Presently down into Italy came General Bonaparte, 
 and changed the fashion of poetry and politics. Monti, 
 the alert, was among the earliest to greet the rising sun. 
 He had been deceived by the lurid flames of the Reign of 
 Terror, which, he now saw, were but forerunners of the 
 day of freedom; he had confused the excesses of the 
 Revolution with its true purpose, and this was plainly 
 enough to bring liberty and equality to all men, even to 
 Italians. Ah, how joyfully he welcomed the effulgent 
 deliverer, — how easy it was to indulge the sublime sen- 
 timent of patriotism, now that every one was patriotic. 
 Wishing, he said, "to merit well of a free fatherland, by 
 writing at last as a free man," he poured forth in a 
 single year (1797) three canticles, entitled "Fanaticism," 
 "Superstition," and "The Peril," in which he execrated 
 the upholders of that Old Regime, whose bread he had 
 eaten and whose purse he had tapped for well-nigh 
 twenty years. And to show the thoroughness of his con- 
 version, he addressed to Bonaparte an ode in which the 
 young conqueror figured as Prometheus. If there be by 
 any other man of equal rank eulogies as fulsome as those 
 which Monti showered upon Napoleon, I have not seen 
 them. "O illustrious God of War, for a God thou surely 
 art!" he exclaims at one time; at another, he likens 
 Napoleon bringing order out of chaos in France to God 
 himself stretching forth His hand over the primeval abyss. 
 The hyperbole of adulation could hit no higher I 
 
 W^hen a law was passed to cut off from preferment all 
 those who had written against liberty since 1792, Monti 
 promptly issued a poetical apology for his Bassvillian 
 blunder, was granted pardon, and appointed to the chair 
 of belles-lettres at Milan. For an interval his })rospects 
 darkened, when the Austrians and Russians, profiting by 
 Napoleon's absence in Egj^pt, invaded Italy: but Napo- 
 leon returned ; the victory of Marengo swept the invaders 
 back into their North, and secured to France for fourteen
 
 NEW VOICES AND KEVOLUTION. 101 
 
 yeai's the control of Italy. Monti throve exceedingly 
 during that period. He was chos^'n Poet Laureate to the 
 Cisalpine Republic, and, later. Historiographer to the 
 Kingdom of Italy; and in order that his Pegasus might 
 not be worn out by treadmill work, he was relieved of his 
 duties as professor, but allowed to draw a salary therefor. 
 Napoleon was eager to entice authors into his service; 
 but in sjjite of favors and subsidies, he could command 
 only the mediocre; Monti's reputation was the most con- 
 spicuous which he bought.^ 
 
 When Napoleon made himself Emperor, and there was 
 no longer a reason for cherishing the delusion that he was 
 a disinterested champion of liberty, Monti, the official 
 songster at Milan, moulted his democratic feathers and 
 strutted magnificent in imperial ])lumage. His ardent 
 muse could not be restrained from caroling whenever 
 there was a Napoleonic victory or wedding or baptism to 
 celebrate. It was marvelous how the smallest happen- 
 ing in the imperial family kindled his imagination ; how 
 punctually his song came, sometimes even before it had 
 been commanded by his master I There were not lack- 
 ing, of course, voices which accused him of apostasy and 
 cringing; but then, envy is a sin to which literary men 
 are proverbially prone, and he could console himself with 
 the thought that his detractors would gladly luive re- 
 ceived, even from the tyrant they affected to abhor, the 
 fat pension which came to him every month. Prosperous 
 genius, if it be not annoyed by modesty, finds a n«nv 
 meaning in the fable of the Sour (Jvapes. ^lonti did 
 feel, nevertlieless, that his friends had some reason for 
 regarding his ])ositi(m as ambiguous, for he wrote to Mel- 
 chior Cesarotti, in 1805: "1 am touching the Pindaric 
 
 ' De (lubcriiiitis, iu liis study of Maiizoiii (Fli>i'>'»t'«'. I'^T'-O. fT'^''^ some 
 
 atmiHiufj' speciiiieiis of thcsi- Hiil)si(U/,c(l ]n'iiiiy-:i-liiici's" .'1(1111:111011. ( >iii', 
 
 (iiifjliiifTi Ijy name, turiiud the Code Napoleon into heroic eouplet.s. .See 
 pp. -'11-15. 
 
 7.
 
 102 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 chord for the Emperor Napoleon. The government lias 
 thus commanded me, and I must perforce obey. God 
 grant that the love of country do not draw me to a too 
 great liberty of thought, and that I respect the hero, 
 without betraying the duty of a citizen. I follow a path 
 where the desire of the nation does not accord very well 
 with the political condition, and I am afraid of ruining 
 myself. May St. Apollo aid me, and do you beseech me 
 to circumspection and prudence." ^ How naive is that 
 prayer that his patriotism may not draw him to a too 
 great liberty of thought ! 
 
 Just when Monti intended to throw off his disguise 
 we do not know. The fall of Napoleon gave him an 
 opportunity of abjuring forever his gilded bondage, but 
 he did not avail himself of it. On the contrary, he made 
 haste, when Northern Italy passed into Austria's keeping, 
 to ingratiate himself with the new tyrant. He greeted 
 the Austrian Emperor as "the wise, the just, the best of 
 kings," a whirlwind in war, a zephyr in peace. But 
 Francis had a wholesome dread of authors: literary ac- 
 tivity is a sign of wakeful brains, and wakeful brains are 
 too apt to concoct incendiary thoughts, which lead the 
 populace to revolutionary deeds. To suppress and not to 
 encourage the intellectual life of his subjects was, there- 
 fore, the wise policy of Francis. He abolished the office 
 of historiographer, either because he intended that his 
 subjects should be too happy to need an annalist, or be- 
 cause he suspected that there might be matters which had 
 better not be recorded. Still, he allowed Monti to draw 
 a small pension, in return for which poetic tribute was 
 dutifully paid. In his later years Monti harmed Italy by 
 renewing a Dryasdust dispute concerning the purity of 
 the Italian language, and he frittered away his talents 
 over the questions whether Italian be Tuscan or Tuscan 
 
 ^ Quoted by Mestica: Manuale della Letteratura Italiuna (Florence, 
 188G), i, 33.
 
 NEW VOICES AND REVOLUTION. 103 
 
 be Italian, whether a writer should use words not found 
 in the works of the fourteenth century, or whether words 
 added to the vocabulary since 1400 should not also be 
 recognized. A fine quarrel for the foremost writer of his 
 time to engage in; worthy to be fought out by servile 
 pedants, amid much taking of snuff and frequent rubbing 
 of spectacles, in dim, dusty attics. An appetizing dish 
 of chaff to set before a people who, deceived in their hope 
 of independence, crushed to earth but not killed, were 
 hungering for words of liberty which should be as strong 
 wine to their resolve. The Austrians chuckled to see 
 their bondsmen voluntarily return to the threshing of old 
 quibbles, in which too much of the intelligence of later 
 Italians had worn itself out. Absolutism had learned 
 that it had nothing to fear from pedants. Monti in this 
 fashion sank into an old age of poverty and neglect, all 
 his trimming and talents of no avail ; distrusted by his 
 countrymen, unfeared by his countrymen's enemies, he 
 died in 1828. 
 
 His contemporaries dubbed liim Abbe Monti, Citizen 
 Monti, Courtier Monti, to designate the different phases 
 of his sycophancy, but the ^naii Monti did not change. 
 To his family he was kind, even tender ; to his friends, 
 he was affectionate; but he was vain and vulgarly ambi- 
 tious, lie loved to move among smiling faces, though 
 they were those of flatterers; he loved to see himself the 
 favorite of the great, thougli the great were tyrants. At 
 heart, he preferred virtue and liberty, and we can imag- 
 ine that he covered the margins of liis Dante with approv- 
 ing notes: but it is one thing to be intellectually hospi- 
 table to noble thoughts, and ([uite another thiug to obey 
 them "'in the scorn of cousecpieuce.' Monti liad beliind 
 him and about him a socii'ty wliieli had long ago divorced 
 precepts from practice: which took it for granted that 
 the guardians and exuuiplais ot morality would themselves 
 l)e neither chaste nor huiiilile, neither charitable nor sin-
 
 104 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 cere. His life, and that of most of his fellows, was of 
 the intellect and not of the conscience, and the intellect, 
 greedy of applause, makes worldly success a duty. More- 
 over, the alternative was very real, and very stern : pov- 
 erty for certain, probably imprisonment, perhaps exile, 
 possibly death, — those were the grim conditions he must 
 choose, if he preferred independence to compromise. He 
 exonerated himself by reflecting that his intentions and 
 sympathies were excellent ; perhaps self-deception went so 
 far that he thought himself a martyr to circumstances, 
 and blamed destiny for spreading ignoble nets before the 
 steps of one who might otherwise have stridden with a 
 regal gait through the world. He could plead that he 
 had counteracted so far as possible the effect of his fawn- 
 ing poems, by sprinkling upon them patriotic sentiments, 
 which the alert would find and interpret. "My duty as 
 husband and father," he wrote, "made me belie my coun- 
 tenance and speech ; listening to the voice of nature made 
 me seem guilty; but so beautiful a fault does not merit 
 the blush of shame." ^ 
 
 It would have been too cruel to drag Monti's delin- 
 quency again into the light, merely to illustrate the fact 
 that intellectual ability is often without conscience. The 
 public press furnishes daily evidence that the hand can 
 write what the heart does not believe; so that to 
 strengthen a statement by "the honor of a journalist" 
 would in most cases provoke sarcastic laughter. He is 
 condemned to live in the history of Italy's regeneration, 
 because he was the most conspicuous of those Italians 
 who, in spite of mental ability and good intentions, failed 
 from lack of moral courage. The new ideals urged them 
 forward, but the spiritual enervation of centuries held 
 them back. Not without reason has Monti been called 
 "the last poet of the past." 
 
 Although Monti's public career could serve but as a 
 
 ^ From his poem " La Superstizioiie."
 
 NEW VOICES AND KEVOLUTION. 105 
 
 warning, and although his writings were too often base, 
 yet he did positive good to the Italian literature of his 
 time. He wrote with force, he seized upon living sub- 
 jects, he showed that the real substance of poetry lay in 
 the great events by which men's sovds were actually 
 moved, and not in the archaic puerilities of mock shep- 
 herds and shepherdesses. The best Italian critics agree 
 that he infused into the verse-forms he used a vigor un- 
 known since Tasso sang. When he was not restrained 
 by prudential motives, he could speak plainly. "Mute 
 sittest thou," he says to Italy, at the time of the Con- 
 gress of Udine; "at every shock thou castest down thy 
 glances tremblingly; and in thy fear thou knowest not 
 whether fetters or freedom await thee. O more vile than 
 unfortunate ! O derided slave of thy slaves ! Not thus 
 would thy countenance be dejected, nor thy feet chafed 
 with shackles, if cowardly pride and long fornication 
 with tyrants and Levites had not softened the sinews of 
 thy native valor. Honored spouses these, whom thou 
 hast preferred to Brutus and to Scipio! A line ex- 
 change, a shrewd judgment, forsooth! She who had the 
 universe for slave now sings psalms, and a mitre is the 
 crest of her helmet."^ A sad truth, we confess; but a 
 truth that comes strangely from lips wliich liave just 
 lauded the mitred leader of the psalm-singing choir, and 
 which, a little later, lauded the new tyrants. In the 
 anthologies, ^lonti still holds a considerable ticld, and 
 editors still append footnotes exhoi-tiiigtlii' studious youth 
 to be thrilled at the proper passages, but to me the read- 
 ing of M(mti's ])oems gives little pleasure. The constant 
 inversions, in imitation of Latin n\o(lels. are artHieial; 
 the alleged grandeur is grandiose. Monti does not soar 
 like a bird; lie leaj)s like a kangaroo, and wliih' he sur- 
 ])rises you by tlie lieight and lengtli of some of his boun<ls, 
 you see that he is (|uiekly on the eai-th again. Between 
 
 ' Ode JXT il ( iiiij^Ti'Sso il' ( "(Ulif. IT'.'T.
 
 106 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 leap and leap there is a succession of very fluent, often 
 melodious, commonplaces. In this respect, he resembles 
 the English poet Young; and if his verse has a larger 
 space allotted to it in Italian manuals than Young's has 
 in English manuals, it is not because he excels Young, 
 but because English poetry has had many subsequent 
 poets far superior to Young, whereas later Italy has had 
 few superior to Monti; and because, above all, Monti is 
 associated with a great period in Italy's growth, whereas 
 Young speaks to us out of a period when the poetic life 
 of England was barren. 
 
 Of different stamp was Ugo Foscolo, born in 1779 on 
 the island of Zante, then a Venetian possession. His 
 father, a physician, was a Venetian, his mother. Dia- 
 mante Spaty, a Greek. Foscolo 's first schoolbooks were 
 Plutarch and Xenophon. After his father's death, his 
 mother and her children settled at Venice in 1793. Ugo 
 attended the lectures of Melchior Cesarotti at the Univer- 
 sity of Pa via; he was precocious in versifying, and was 
 swept, while still a youth, into the current of active life 
 by the revolutionary tumults in Italy. In a fine ode he 
 addressed Bonaparte as the "Liberator," but when, soon 
 afterwards, Bonaparte by the deceitful treaty of Campo 
 Formio extinguished the Republic of Venice and sold 
 Venetia to Austria, Foscolo 's illusions as to the probity 
 of the Liberator were dispelled. Upon Napoleon's return 
 from Egypt, the young poet republished the ode, adding 
 thereto a dedication in which he exhorted the victor to 
 fulfill his mission as the bringer of liberty, and not of ser- 
 vitude, to the distressed nations. "Our age," he said, 
 "will have a Tacitus, who will hand down your sentence 
 to severe posterity." But Napoleon's ambition, having 
 tasted power, was not to be satiated by patriotic appeals ; 
 he assumed the title of Emperor in France, and converted 
 the Cisalpine Republic into the Kingdom of Italy, of 
 which he was king. Foscolo tacitly submitted to the
 
 NEW VOICES AND REVOLUTION. 107 
 
 change, tacitly, but not ignobly ; he served in the imperial 
 army in France, and accepted the chair of oratory at 
 Pavia, but thenceforth he wrote no praises of Napoleon. 
 Indeed, he took so little pains to disguise his republican 
 opinions that his professorship was soon abolished, and 
 he had to shift as best he could. Literature is at all 
 times a precarious profession, but never more precarious 
 than when the free utterance of authors is muzzled ; to 
 Foscolo's credit be it recorded that, unlike Monti, he 
 never spiced his speech to the taste of his censors. In 
 1811 he brought out at the Scala Theatre in Milan a 
 tragedy called "Agamemnon; " the official ferrets scented 
 in it meanings which the author disavowed : Agamemnon, 
 they said, was intended for Napoleon, Ajax was the exiled 
 General Moreau, and Ulysses was Fouche, Imperial Min- 
 ister of Police. The play was prohibited and Foscolo 
 banished. Three years later, when the Napoleonic king- 
 dom was tottering, he returned to ]VIilan and took part in 
 the unsuccessful attempt to resist the Austrians ; l)ut wh(;n 
 they had by craft reestablished themselves, and required 
 every Italian to swear allegiance to Francis, Foscolo re- 
 fused and fled to Switzerland. lie went thence to Kng- 
 land, and wore out the remainder of his life in exile, writ- 
 ing articles for the English reviews and giving lessons in 
 Italian. lie died there in 1827. 
 
 Foscolo's poems are more genuine than ]\[onti"s, for 
 they spring out of the man's soul, and not out of his in- 
 tellect. The poet does not set traps for the a])probation 
 of critics, nor for the ducats of patrons. Patriotism 
 finds in them nothing to blot, nothing to extenuate. Wht'u 
 the Frencli, in out; of their dciuocratic deliriums, were for 
 prohibiting the erection of tombstones and otlier memo- 
 rials to tlie (h'ad, as being a custom whei-eby the aristo- 
 cratic and ricli disi)laye<l even in «U'ath a ])omp and an 
 arrogance inconsistent with pool- but h')nest (h-mocracv, 
 Foscolo — in his most noted poem, " Fhc Scpuh-hres " —
 
 108 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 defended the practice, and showed how the tombs of 
 heroes keep alive the memory of noble deeds and rebuke 
 the littleness of posterity. He described himself as a 
 man who heard the continual rumbling of passions within 
 him, as being ""rich in vices and in virtues;" and, so 
 bitter was exile, as being "sad for the most part and sol- 
 itary, ever pensive, and incredulous alike of hope and 
 fear." A man of great gifts, impulsive, quick to resent 
 wrongs and quick to forgive them, although he wrote a 
 Wertherian romance, yet he could endure to live in spite 
 of disillusions more jjoignant than those which drove his 
 hero, Jacopo Ortis, to suicide. In the weariness of exile 
 he served his country better than he knew, by acquaint- 
 ing Englishmen with the genius of Dante and by showing 
 them the almost unknown spectacle of an incorruptible 
 Italian, who preferred banishment and poverty abroad to 
 ojjpression and sycophancy at home. Italians could bet- 
 ter spare Foscolo's writings from their literature than his 
 example of integrity from their history. 
 
 These two men represent the two prominent classes into 
 which Italians were divided during the Napoleonic era, 
 and for nearly a generation beyond it. The one, facile 
 and unscrupulous, preferred liberty in theory, but bent 
 the pregnant hinges of the knee to any master from whom 
 rewards and favors could be obtained ; the other, setting 
 principles above self, sacrificed self rather than submit. 
 From the former class no good came, nor could come ; 
 by the latter was slowly accumulated that moral force 
 which alone could make Italy worthy of freedom, and 
 could endure all shocks, all rebuffs, until freedom was at 
 last won. There was, besides, a third class, composed of 
 the ])rinces of the Old Kcgime and of their parasites and 
 proteges, who were consistently and inflexibly hostile to 
 any change wliich threatened to diminish their inherited 
 ])rivileges. The eighteenth century approached its last 
 decade, but tliesc deluded creatures still dwelt in their 
 mediaeval paradise, and thought it permanent.
 
 NEW VOICES AND REVOLUTION. 109 
 
 The Revolutionary War in America set a dangerous 
 example to Europe, but the Italians no more thought of 
 imitating the sturdy colonists, than of flying when they 
 saw a hawk circle above them. The existence of the 
 American Republic doubtless made independence seem 
 possible, but I cannot discover that it had as yet excited 
 more than a languid interest in Italy, when the French 
 Revolution burst forth terrific. Since the subversion of 
 the Roman Empire under the flood of Teutonic invasion, 
 such a catastrophe had not been known. Now, as then, 
 a regime which had endured for so many centuries that 
 Europeans had come to regard it as eternal, was con- 
 fronted by strange, terrible enemies, who seemed to be 
 agents of chaos and anarchy. These enemies were not 
 Goths, nor Huns, nor Turks, but members of the very 
 social system which had been created and held together by 
 the Old Regime; the struggle, therefore, was not between 
 the civilized and the barbarians, but between one class 
 and another, between the privileged few and the un})riv- 
 ileged many. Aristocracy found itself set upon by its 
 great pack of underlings, like Act.'eon by his hounds. 
 No wonder that the wisest spectators of that contest failed 
 to realize its import. Little guessed Mirabeau, when he 
 flung down defiance to the king's messenger at the Tennis 
 Court, whither the current was sweeping; little foresaw 
 Burke, when he looked aghast at the orgies of the Reign 
 of Terror, that in those convulsions, tliough the old world- 
 order was passing away, a new and juster one was coming 
 into life. 
 
 When such men were unaware of the mighty cliange 
 impending, it is not to be supposed tliat the ])rin(*es of 
 Italy understood at first tlie onu-ns Hashing across the 
 skies France-ward. Tlieir anxiety was pei'ha[)s as great 
 as that of onewlio ree<'ives news tliat a neighl)()r is siifTer- 
 ing from an acute l)ut not deadly fevei-. Tmt wlieii I'reiieli 
 royalty was insulted, iiiiprisoiied. and then gudlntiiied.
 
 110 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 they realized their ovvai clanger, and prayed that the allied 
 monarchies of Europe might dispatch the revolutionary 
 monster at Paris. Then was the time for Italy to free 
 herself. But those Italians who read Alfieri and dreamed 
 of liberty were too divided, too unskilled to seize the op- 
 portunity held out to them. The habit of ten centuries 
 made them look to foreign lands for leadership. At the 
 most, they trusted that in the amazing changes, Fortune 
 would assist them. The mere fact of change was a most 
 encouraging prognostic. Like gamblers, they watched 
 the wheel a-spinning, and relied upon their luck. And 
 suddenly, beyond all expectations, a leader arose. 
 
 Napoleon, leaping on the back of the revolutionary 
 Bucephalus, rode him over Europe, and where his hoofs 
 struck, the earth quaked and thrones toppled over. Na- 
 poleon, himself an Italian, galloped down into Italy, swept 
 the armies of Austria before him, appealed to the Italians 
 to strike for freedom, promised them independence, and 
 then, caught in a frenzy of selfish ambition, he broke his 
 promise, and made Italy an appendage of his Empire. 
 The Cisalpine Republic was transformed into a kingdom 
 governed by his stepson Beauharnais ; Etruria was a toy 
 for his sister Eliza ; the Parthenopean Republic became 
 a kingdom rided by his brother-in-law Murat. Napoleon 
 undeniably betrayed the hope of the Italians, but even 
 in betraying he benefited them. He was a great reality, 
 stalking over Europe and exposing immemorial shams. 
 By a stroke of tlie pen he signed the burial-certifieate 
 of the Holy Roman Empire ; he touched the Republic of 
 Venice, and it dissolved in ashes, as the body of a queen 
 crumbles when its sepulchre is opened; he carried the 
 Po])e about with him, like a parrot in a cage ; he made 
 ridiculous the old tactics in war; he made obsolete the 
 old methods in peace; he set u]) Merit instead of Privi- 
 lege to be the ladder of ^jromotion. While Bourbons or 
 Ilohenzollerns or Hapsburgs or Romanoffs slunk away in
 
 NEW VOICES AND REVOLUTION. Ill 
 
 terror from the back door of their palace, he strode im- 
 periously through the front portal, mounted the grand 
 staircase, sat in the king's seat in the banqueting-hall, 
 and slept in the royal bed. He put the Iron Crown of 
 Charlemain on his upstart brow and distributed half the 
 sceptres of Europe among his vulgarian relatives — that 
 was the reductio ad ah!<,unhun of that old pretense, the 
 divine right of kings, lie manufactured an aristocracy 
 as easily as he had organized an army, raising butchers' 
 sons, taverners, and lawyers' clerks to princij)alities and 
 dukedoms, and grafting them by marriage on the loftiest 
 family trees. 
 
 The Empire he founded fell, because he, too, lost his 
 hold upon reality and came to make compacts with im- 
 postures; but the effect of his deeds remained. Such 
 might of pure intellect has been applied to State affairs 
 by no other man unless by Ciesar. Astonished, you 
 follow him through court to camp, and from camp to 
 council, yet you have not seen his activity Hag. He had 
 time for framing codes and appointing a legion of office- 
 holders; for building bridges and laying out roads; for 
 scandal and amours; for reading the correspondence of 
 numberless envoys; for deciding where a picture sliould 
 be hung or a statue erected ; for discussing anticpiities 
 with Denon and Chanipollion; for devising liveries for 
 his lackeys and uniforms for liis generals; for ridiculing 
 his wife's dresses and his sister's manners. Nothing 
 escaped his intellect, — it took in the most weighty busi- 
 ness and the most ti'ivial. In mental vigoi- lie was a 
 C()h)ssus, in moral chai-acter a dwarf: caiiial and seHish 
 as a m:ni, yet imperial b(>yonil all otlieis as a contpieror. 
 He did not create the Kevoliitioii, Imt lie had the i)ower, 
 and he alone, to grasp the tliuiidt ibolts the Revolution 
 had forged, and to hull them as if he were flove. lie so 
 identilied tliat moveiiieiit. whicii had l)ecn long maturing, 
 with his personal fortunes, as to Itlind I'^urope lor more
 
 112 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 than a generation to the irresistible principles behind 
 him. She imagined that in crushing him she could crush 
 the new world-order and restore the Past. Fame shone 
 round him, as from a sun, lighting up all who came 
 near him, were they friends or foes; a troop of lesser 
 men — Wellington, Nelson, Bliicher, Schwarzenberg, 
 Archduke Chai'les, Wittgenstein, Kutusoff — won endur- 
 ing renown merely in resisting him. But 'Napoleon's 
 great achievement was to discredit the Past. Force less 
 Titanic than his could not have broken up the petrified 
 crust of European society. He seemed to his contempo- 
 raries a destructive whirlwind ; but after he had passed, 
 they beheld the seeds of regeneration springing up in his 
 track. 
 
 Thus when Napoleon reconstructed Europe, Italy did 
 not attain independence ; she did not even get unity, for 
 the master-carver cut her into several slices to feed his 
 favorite dogs of war: nevertheless, she gained much. 
 She woke from torpor to activity ; she lived in the Pres- 
 ent. Instead of being stranded like a rotting hulk, she 
 was once more swept into the current of European des- 
 tiny. The Napoleonic administration, though autocratic, 
 was centuries in advance of that of Pope or Bourbon. 
 The watchword of the new era, "Za carriere ovrcrtc aux 
 talents,^^ called for able officials; antiquated placemen 
 were laid on the shelf. Civilians succeeded to ecclesias- 
 tics in every department of government. The Code 
 Napoleon did away with mediseval courts, recognized 
 equality before the law, and promoted respect for justice. 
 Incessant campaigns and the military conscrij^tion not 
 only made the Italians fighters, — between 179G and 
 1814, Italy furnished 360,000 soldiers to the imperial 
 armies, — but also broke down provincial barriers and 
 encouraged national spirit. It was something to fight for 
 the Kingdom of Italy, though that kingdom had a foreign 
 sovereign. The Lombard who marched side by side wath
 
 NEW VOICES AND REVOLUTION. 113 
 
 the Romagnole or the Neapolitan felt that they came of 
 the same kindred and had interests in common. Above 
 all, Italy learned that her petty princes and even the 
 Pope himself, whom they had regarded as necessary and 
 incurable evils, could be ousted by a strong hand. Thus 
 were the Italians rejuvenated by contact with the Eu- 
 ropean Autocrat; thus did they store up some of the 
 strength and courage which are given out in days of 
 stress and mighty imdertakings. Perceiving that they 
 could not act for themselves whilst Napoleon lived, they 
 looked forward to his death as the signal for new 
 changes, out of which they might pluck the fulfilment of 
 their desire. 
 
 And here we may close our retrospect of the growth of 
 Italy. Henceforth we shall follow the Italians in their 
 struggle to secure independence and unity by means of 
 elements and against obstacles which many centuries 
 had prepared for them. That struggle was all the harder 
 because of the conflict among these elements and because 
 the Past has had over no other European people so strong 
 and paralyzing a hold as over the Italians. Institiitions 
 which at one era had been beneficial remained like the 
 trunks of dead trees overgrown with living vines; how to 
 cut down the dead and save the living was the task be- 
 fore Italy. 
 
 In our retrospect we have seen how the Roman Empire 
 gi-ew languid in pros})crity, then rotted in vice, and 
 finally fell asimder; how the Teutonic invaders, having 
 coTKiuered, gi-adually mixed with tlie races of western 
 Eur()])e, and liow, from tlie inintiliiiLT.. new races were 
 born. AVe have seen tlie Hisliop of H(»nie lift liiinself 
 into the ])rimacy of the ("liristian woi-ld and unite with 
 C'harleniain to organize society un<ler a (bial government; 
 and how the Po])e steahhilv i-eached fortli liis liand and 
 surely seized temporal })ower. ^^ C have glaneed at Feu-
 
 114 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 tlalism, the source of mediaeval and modern class distinc- 
 tions ; we have surveyed the rise and overweening expan- 
 sion of the priesthood, with its demoralizing asceticism, 
 — whence came the divorce between conduct and profes- 
 sion ; we have noted the solidification of dogmas, — 
 whence came the divorce between reason and faith. We 
 have seen a multitude of small republics spring into ner- 
 vous life, toss and waste themselves in internecine feuds 
 and local jealousies, and remember only their mutual 
 spites when, exhausted, they succumbed to tyrants. We 
 have seen Italy the prey of foreign invaders, — of Sara- 
 cens, Franks, Normans, Germans, French, Spaniards, 
 who robbed her treasure and stultified her people. We 
 have seen her genius express itself in many forms : how 
 Italy was the pioneer in commerce and industry; how 
 letters revived through her enthusiasm; how Dante, 
 greatest of her sons, broke the spell of antiquity; how, 
 having formulated and maintained the religion of Chris- 
 tendom, she was the first to feel the liberating breath of 
 the Renaissance, which carried to other lands principles by 
 which the unique tyranny of that religion was destroyed. 
 And just as the rest of the world was becoming more tol- 
 erant, we have seen the rivets of clericalism driven deeper 
 into her soul, — Inquisitors burning her liberal thinkers 
 at the stake, Jesuits repressing education and control- 
 ling government. We have seen her aristocracy slip 
 down from magnificent licentiousness to brutality, and 
 from brutality to the emasculate follies of Arcadia. Yet 
 we saw, too, that she put forth new branches from her 
 aged stem, — Science, Music, the Drama, — and that 
 each bore fruit. We have seen the dark shadows of 
 Spain and Austria hanging like a pall over her land, and 
 then Napoleonic clouds blo%vn across her sky, still dark, 
 but with fitful gleams breaking through the rifts. We 
 have seen her debased by servitiide to foreign conquerors, 
 debased by the treachery of native tyrants, debased by
 
 NEW VOICES AND REVOLUTION. 115 
 
 the hypocrisy, worldliness, and superstition of her Church. 
 And we have seen that from the time of Charlemain to 
 the time of Napoleon, she was never mistress of herself, 
 but always the victim of foreign rapacity. All this was 
 her inheritance, when, at the beginning of the nineteenth 
 century, she seriously resolved to be free. Like a beau- 
 tiful woman under the spell of a mesmerist, she had so 
 often sinned and been so often baffled in her efforts to 
 recover her freedom, that she had begun to despair of 
 her will-power: then Napoleon came and banished her 
 Evil Genuis for a time, and the fibres of her will tingled 
 with new strength. Can she revive? Can a nation, like 
 a man, turn from a career of shame and rise, not only 
 above the effects, but also above the memory of evil ways ? 
 To this question the following pages of this history will 
 give in part an answer.
 
 BOOK SECOND. 
 
 THE DOOM OF TYRANNY. 
 
 Liberty va cercando, clie ^ si cara, 
 Come sa chi per lei vita rifiuta. 
 
 Dante, Purgatorio, i, 71, 72. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA. 
 
 In the month of March, 1815, the Congress of Vienna 
 had been five months in session. After twenty years of 
 warfare, the royalties and aristocracies of Europe were 
 assembled to celebrate the return of peace. So august a 
 concourse had not been seen in modern times : two em- 
 perors, several kings, potentates by the dozen and diplo- 
 mats by the score, with their retinues and their regi- 
 ments, with women and with prelates, made boundless 
 jubilee, and promised each other that the Old Regime 
 thus happily restored should nevermore be disturbed. 
 Revelry by night, endless chatter by day; monarchs 
 amusing themselves with the dissipations of one of the 
 naughtiest capitals of Europe ; ministers inditing proto- 
 cols and menioranda; courtly urbanity on the surface, 
 reptilian intrigues and jealousies and hatreds in the 
 depths; balls, masquerades, banquets, and hunting par- 
 ties alternating with conferences and map-makings; 
 princes, dames, milliners, pastry-cooks, and lackeys all 
 toiling without truce in this carnival of gayety, — siu'h 
 was the mixture of business and play at Vienna during 
 the winter of 1814-1815. For the Lion who had so Ions:
 
 THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA. 117 
 
 desolated Europe had been overpowered, and was now 
 caged in Elba, wherefore the lesser beasts were met to 
 carouse over his capture and to divide his booty. Rey- 
 nard the Fox, his Excellency Prince Metternich, acted 
 as master of ceremonies and distributor of spoils. But 
 the proceedings were so slow, and so often interrupted by 
 festivities, that one of the revelers, the cynical Prince de 
 Ligne, declared that "/e Cong res dan.se, mais ne marche 
 pas,^^ "the Congress dances, but does not advance." 
 Nevertheless, by the beginning of March, the chief topics 
 had been discussed,^ although the discussion had been 
 so hot that there was immediate danger that the peace- 
 makers would fall to fighting among themselves. Then, 
 happily for them, news was brought that the Lion had 
 escaped from his cage. 
 
 On the morning of ^larch 7 a servant brought a dis- 
 patch to Prince Metternich, who was still in bed. lie 
 saw the words, "Urgent, from the Consul General at 
 Genoa," but being sleejjy, he turned over for another 
 nap. Unable to sleep, however, he reached for the en- 
 velope, broke the seal, and read, "The English Commis- 
 sary, Campbell, has just appeared in the harbor, to in- 
 quire whether Napoleon has been seen in Genoa, as he 
 has disa])peared from the Island of Elba ; this (jucstion 
 being answered in the negative, the Englisli ship has 
 again ])ut out to sea." Metternich rose at once. "1 was 
 dressed in a few minutes," lie says, """and before t'iglit 
 o'clock I was with the Emperor. lie read the dispatch, 
 and said to me (juietly and calmly, as lie always did on 
 great occasions: 'Napoleon seems to wish to l>lay the ad- 
 venturer: that is his concern; ours is to secure to the 
 world tliat peace which he lias disturbed for years, (io 
 
 ' Tlio Coiigrt'ss liad two .sossioiis, naiiicly. that of the Firr Poinrs — 
 Austria, liussia. Prussia, Fraiicf, and KiijiLiiid ; and that of thi- Kiiiht 
 I'liinrs. in which, l>('si(h's ihfsc five. Spain. I'((rtnj,'.'il, and Swcchn lonk 
 part. All tht' smaller States had slso accredited represent.itives.
 
 118 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 without delay to the Emperor of Russia and the King of 
 Prussia, aud tell them that I am ready to order my army 
 back to France. I do not doubt but that both monarchs 
 will agree with me. ' At a quarter past eight I was with 
 the Emperor Alexander, who dismissed me with the same 
 words as the Emperor Francis had used. At half past 
 eight I received a similar declaration from the mouth of 
 King Frederick William III. At nine o'clock I was at 
 my house again, where I had directed the Field-Marshal 
 Prince Schwarzenberg to meet me. At ten o'clock the 
 ministers of the four Powers came at my request. At the 
 same hour adjutants were already on their way in all di- 
 rections, to order the armies to halt who were returning 
 home. Thus war was decided on in less than an hour." ^ 
 
 From this official report we learn that in cases of emer- 
 gency imperial chancellors can make haste, and that au- 
 gust monarchs can dispense with the usual ambages of 
 ceremonial. History records no other instance where two 
 emperors and a king, in night-cap and ruffled night-gown, 
 declared war in bed at eight o'clock in the morning. But 
 the resolve thus promptly taken was prosecuted with 
 vigor. And while the Allied Armies were driving Na- 
 poleon to bay, the diplomats at Vienna proceeded to fin- 
 ish their partition of spoils. On June 9, 1815, just nine 
 days before Waterloo, the articles of the treaty were 
 signed, the distribution was completed, and the Congress 
 adjourned. 
 
 The principle which guided the Congress was very sim- 
 ple. "We will ignore the Revolution and its results, and 
 restore Europe to its condition previous to 1789," said 
 the monarchs and their minions. But, as much had been 
 destroyed which could not be replaced, and as the events 
 of a quarter of a century had brought the various Powers 
 into new relations, it was decided to make a fresh parti- 
 tion where restoration was impossible. One common in- 
 
 ^ Metternich : Memoirs (New York, ISSl), i, 254-5.
 
 THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA. 119 
 
 terest, the need of exterminating the revolutionary spirit, 
 bound the sovereigns together; after deferring to this, 
 each grabbed as much for his private use as his neighbors 
 woukl permit. The strongest took large slices ; the weak, 
 but not less greedy, snarled over the crumbs and morsels 
 that remained. When it came to cutting up Italy, which 
 had from time immemorial set forth a feast for foreign 
 despots, there was much wrangling, much envy; but 
 Metternich held the knife and carved to suit himself. 
 
 After Napoleon's first abdication in 1814, most of the 
 Italian States saw that their old rulers would return ; but 
 Murat still held the Kingdom of Naples and Beauharnais 
 the Northern Kingdom. Now it was decided that Austria 
 should annex Venetia, Milan, and Mantua, together with 
 Istria and Dalmatia on the eastern shore of the Adriatic.^ 
 To the Archduke Francis of Este, an Austrian, were 
 allotted the Duchies of JVIodena, Keggio, and Mirandola; 
 the Archduchess Mary Beatrix of Este received the Duchy 
 of Massa, the Principality of Carrara, and imperial fiefs 
 in the Lunigiana.^ The King of Piedmont, who had lived 
 in retreat on the island of Sardinia during the Napoleonic 
 upheaval, had to cede a part of Savoy to the Canton of 
 Geneva, for which he was compensated by the Republic of 
 Genoa. ^ The Genoese protested; they pointed to their 
 long career of liberty and to their ])ast glory ; they begged 
 to be allowed to ])reserve the independent government 
 which Lord Bentinck liad recently set uj). Their envoy, 
 Marcpiis Briguole, pleaded ehxpiently, but in vain ; the 
 Powers wished to make the King of Piedmont strong 
 enough to resist possible French invasions, and accord- 
 ingly, in fJanuaiy, 1815, he took jxtsscssion of the (ieno- 
 ese.* When it came to the question of Tuscany and 
 Parma, the Spanisli ])leiiij)otentiary Labrador and tlie 
 French })lenipotentiary Talleyrand fought hard for their 
 
 ' Treaty of Vienna, § '.»:). - Treaty. § '.>S. ^ Treaty. §§ S(), ^s."). 
 
 * t^la-ssau : llisloire dii (Juwjr'm di I'/i 'i«e (I'ariH, 1S2'.'), ii, Mt.
 
 120 THE DAWN OP ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 respective governments ; but Metternich stopped their ar- 
 guments by bluntly declaring that "the Tuscan matter is 
 not an object of discussion, but of war." ^ Archduke Fer- 
 dinand of Austria was therefore restored to Tuscany, with 
 sovereignty over the Principality of Piombino, of which 
 Prince Ludovisi Buoncompagni enjoyed the revenues; 
 Maria Louisa, daughter of the Emperor of Austria, and 
 wife of Napoleon, was given the Duchies of Parma, Pia- 
 cenza, and Guastalla, the succession to be determined 
 later.^ To the other Maria Louisa, Lifanta of Spain, 
 and her son Charles Louis, was offered the Principality 
 of Lucca together with a perpetual annuity of 500,000 
 livres; an offer which she, who had once enjoyed the 
 sounding title of Queen of Etruria, at first refused, but 
 subsequently accepted. It was agreed that at the extinc- 
 tion of her line, Lucca should revert to the Grand Duke 
 of Tuscany.^ Cardinal Consalvi urged that to the Pope 
 be restored those possessions from which he had been 
 driven. The Cardinal pleaded, "not from temporal mo- 
 tives, but for the maintenance of oaths taken by the Pon- 
 tiff at his elevation, — oaths according to which he could 
 alienate nothing from the domains of the Church, of 
 which he was only the usufructuary." ^ The pious request 
 was heard; the Pope was again temporal lord of the 
 Marches, of Camerino and its dependencies, of Benevento 
 and Ponte Corvo, — these two were embedded in Nea- 
 politan territory, — and of the Legations, Ravenna, Bo- 
 logna, Forli, and Ferrara. But he grumbled because 
 Avignon and the Venaissin in Southeastern France were 
 taken from him, and because Austria, in order to com- 
 plete her military frontier, insisted on keeping garrisons 
 in Ferrara and Comacchio.^ Ferdinand IV, who, thanks 
 to the English, had been able to hold Sicily whilst the 
 French were in Naples, was restored to his realm on the 
 
 1 Flassan, ii, 106. ^ Treaty, §§ 99, 100. ^ Treaty, § 101. 
 
 * Flassan, ii, 118. ^ Treaty, § 103.
 
 THE CONGRESS OF V^IENNA. 121 
 
 mainland. Such were the provisions, so far as concerned 
 Italy, of the treaty signed and sealed by the European 
 spoils-distributors, "in the name of the Most Holy and 
 Indivisible Trinity," at Vienna, June 9, 1815. 
 
 Were the Italians satisfied? No. Had they been 
 consulted? No. Did their dissatisfaction matter? No. 
 That generous but deluded knight, Don Quixote, once 
 mistook a flock of sheep for a hostile army ; Metternich, 
 the champion of the Old liegime, mistook the human 
 populations of Europe for sheep. According to him, the 
 Almighty was pleased to create a few privileged persons, 
 to whom the earth and all that in it dwelt belonged. 
 These few, with their families, their favorites and their 
 priests, were of a different genus from the common lierd 
 of humanity. Like Shepherd-Kings, they drove their 
 people to pasture, or to sliearing, or to slaughter, without 
 consulting them. A-V e must confess that the people had 
 too often, by their stupidity and compliance, justified 
 monarchs in holding this unscientific view ; but at last the 
 unprivileged classes had, in the French Revolution, an- 
 nounced with sudden and unprecedented vehemence that 
 they were bipeds and not quadrupeds, and that they, too, 
 as sons of Adam, had hunuin rights. Aletternich and the 
 European sovereigns regarded this assertion as j)ro()f that 
 a sti-ange madness had infected their shee}); and when 
 the fiocks began to run amuck at tlie heels of a colossal 
 bell-wether, threatening the existence of sheep-dogs and 
 shepherds, Metternich and liis monarchs were amazed; 
 but now, having bound the bell-wether, it was believed 
 that the frenzy woidd soon subside, and that tlie sheep 
 would graze as ])eaeeal)ly as Ix'fore. During the period 
 between 1815 and 1848 we siiall often hear Metternich 
 tell the peo})les of Europe, "■ ^'ou are sheep,'' while the 
 ])e<)ples endeavor to prove by every means in their power 
 that they are men. 
 
 To understand this eontliet we nvust know the character
 
 122 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 and policy of Prince Metternich, who succeeded to the 
 dictatorship of Europe that Napoleon lost at Waterloo. 
 A system has rarely been so completely embodied in one 
 man as was the revived Old Regime in Metternich, who, 
 ruling by a few formulas, was himself a formula by 
 whose help we can reduce to lowest terms the products of 
 his time. Born of noble parents in 1773, in Rhineland, 
 he studied for a while at Strasburg, just after a young 
 Corsican named Napoleon Bonajjarte had left that Uni- 
 versity; he remembered with a certain pride that the 
 same masters taught both of them fencing and mathemat- 
 ics. His studies were interrupted by social distractions 
 into which his father's position at the Viennese Court got 
 him an early admittance. When but seventeen years old 
 he represented the Westphalian Bench at the coronation 
 of Emperor Leopold at Frankfort, and two years later in 
 the same capacity he saw Francis I crowned, and he led 
 the ball with the beautiful Princess Louise of Mecklen- 
 burg, — afterwards Queen of Prussia and mother of Wil- 
 liam, first Emperor of Germany. Then he followed his 
 father to Belgium, but the war disturbed his studies and 
 he went to England, where he became acquainted with the 
 leading politicians and inspected the mechanism of Parlia- 
 ment, which, he says, "was not Avithout use in his sub- 
 sequent career." Returning to Austria, he married the 
 granddaughter of Kaunitz, that statesman who had been 
 the adviser of Maria Theresa and the antagonist of Fred- 
 erick the Great. On his own avowal, Metternich had no 
 ambition to enter public life, for he measured his abilities 
 and found them so modest that he preferred to devote 
 himself to a gentlemanlike pursuit of science and letters. 
 But Emperor Francis saw promising qualities in him, and 
 bade him to be ready against duty's summons; to which 
 the young courtier, despite his modesty, re])lied that he 
 would. His first diplomatic mission was to the Congress 
 of Rastadt, which ended abortively through no fault of
 
 THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA. 123 
 
 his; then, in 1801, he was appointed minister to Saxony, 
 where he began to cultivate his peculiar powers. Dres- 
 den was one stage on the road to Berlin and St. Peters- 
 burg, and offered him rich opportunities for studying the 
 intrigues of Prussian and Kussian emissaries, and for 
 acquainting himself with the new crop of European diplo- 
 matists. His strength lay in watching. Unimpassioned, 
 observant, patient, he could wait, like Jason, while the 
 dragon of the Revolution uncoiled its huge bulk before 
 him, and then, where he saw a vital spot bared, there he 
 plunged his sword. He knew his country's resources; he 
 knew his adversary's preponderance; he had unfailing 
 tact, unruffled suavity, and he risked nothing by untimely 
 rashness. His sojourn at Dresden brought no immediate 
 victory to Austria's schemes, but it secured his promotion 
 to the embassy at Berlin. There, too, his achievement 
 was seemingly barren ; since he was expected to bind the 
 fickle resolution of a king who veered now, under the 
 instigation of Ilaugwitz, towards France, and now, under 
 the instigation of Hardenberg, towards Russia. War 
 broke out : Napoleon crushed Russia and Austria at Aus- 
 terlitz, and Prussia, in sj)ite of Metternich's efforts, had 
 so ])lanned that, by her insincerity and indecision, she 
 was sure of immunity whichever might win. Still, ^let- 
 ternich's efforts were not forgotten. Francis nominated 
 him ambassador to St. Petersburg, when Napoleon, who 
 had taken a fancy to tlie })olishcd young diplomatist, 
 requested that he should be sent to represent Austria 
 at Paris. "I do not think it was a good inspiration of 
 Naj)ole(m's," he writes in his "Memoirs,"' ''which called 
 me to functions wliich gave me the oj)|)<)rtunity of appre- 
 ciating his excellenct's, but also tlie possibility of discov- 
 ering the faults wliieh at last h'd liim to ruin, and ficed 
 Kuro])e from tlie oppression unch-r wliieh it languished." ^ 
 To Paris Metternieh went, i-eluctantly, but not tiui- 
 ' M> moirs. <!T.
 
 124 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 idly; knowing the difficulties which lay before the Aus- 
 trian ambassador at the Court of Austria's recent con- 
 queror, but resolved to improve this occasion for studying 
 Napoleon, "the incarnation of the Revolution," in the 
 hope of finding his vulnerable spot. If we are to believe 
 Metternich's "Memoirs,^' we must believe that already 
 in 1806 he regarded himself as destined to humble Napo- 
 leon, and that he foresaw much that came to pass; but 
 those "Memoirs" were written years later, when retro- 
 spect could be dressed up as foresight, with the evident 
 intent of magnifying the wisdom of their author.^ At the 
 raw and gaudy Napoleonic Court he was a perfect speci- 
 men of eighteenth century aristocracy. In person not 
 commanding yet pleasing, in manner elegant but not stiff, 
 choosing to be deemed frivolous rather than earnest, too 
 self -controlled to be surprised into petulance or anger, he 
 soon shone as a star of the first magnitude in Napoleon's 
 hastily-improvised social firmament. He did not forget 
 that Napoleon was a parvenu, but with the tact of a man 
 of superior breeding, he took part in the pomp, and kept 
 his derision to himself. He was affable and insinuating, 
 but, when occasion demanded, he showed firmness as well 
 as pliability. He announced at the outset to Napoleon 
 that he was charged by Emperor Francis to promote 
 friendly relations between Austria and France, but these 
 relations, he said, "must not be confounded with submis- 
 sion." So he pursued his piirpose, apparently intoxicated 
 with court gayeties, but really scrutinizing Napoleon and 
 his satellites, sounding the temper of the French people, 
 investigating the resources of the Empire, and picking 
 up what hints he could of the Emperor's intentions. 
 A high - bred libertine, his liaisons with the women of 
 the French Court — among others, with Caroline Murat, 
 Napoleon's sister — served not only to gratify his vanity 
 
 ^ Some specimens of Metternich's skill in editing' may be found in Mal- 
 leson"s clear monograph: Life of Prince Metternich (Philadelpliia, 1888).
 
 THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA. 125 
 
 but also to put him in possession of secrets which he 
 could not worm from the more wary men. In brief, he 
 played finely the part of licensed eavesdropper which 
 diplomacy dignified by the name of ambassador. All 
 that he knew or surmised, he reported duly to Vienna; 
 and perhaps it was from relying too much on his infor- 
 mation that Austria declared war in 1809. Napoleon 
 quickly brought Austria to terms at Wagram. "We 
 have much to retrieve," said Francis to Metternich as 
 they witnessed the losing battle. The Emperor's first 
 step towards retrieval was to appoint Metternich Chief 
 Minister of the Empire. The moment was indeed black. 
 The past ten years had been strewn with the wrecks of 
 ambitious but unsuccessful ministers. Thugut had been 
 discredited at Marengo, Cobenzl at Austerlitz, Stadion at 
 Wagram; the finances verged on bunkruj^tcy; the army 
 was beaten and discouraged; diplomatic relations with 
 the other Powers which had coalesced against Napoleon 
 were frayed. But Metternich assumed his new duties, 
 unprejudiced by responsibility for the last disaster or for 
 the ignominious peace. His policy was to restore as 
 rai)idly and secretly as he could the finances and the 
 army, and to reach out for new combinations with Aus- 
 tria's former partners. Then came the pr()])0siti()n tliat 
 Nai)oleon should marry Maria Louisa, the Emi)cr<)r*s 
 daughter. Metternich, seeing that Austria liad much to 
 gain and little to lose, approved of it. If Napoleon 
 should maintain his supremacy, a Na])ol('oni('-IIa])s- 
 burger dynasty might rule Europe for generations; it" he 
 should grow weak, the more marriagc-lle would not 
 prevent Austria from seeking alliances with ^sapoleon's 
 eiUimies. Moreover, Napoh'on was intriguing to marry a 
 Kussian grand duehess, if Mai-ia Louisa refused, and the 
 union of France and Kussia might be fatal to Austria. 
 Tlierefore, Metternich a[)i)i'ove(K Francis consented, aiid 
 the old Ilousf^ of lla[)sl)urg was unitetl to the u[)start 
 House of Honapai'te.
 
 126 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Metternich hastened to Paris, ostensibly to escort 
 Maria Louisa to her husband, — although he took a 
 different route from hers, — but really to fathom the 
 hidden plans in Napoleon's mind. He was thus occupied 
 six months instead of six weeks, and was able on his 
 return to Vienna to inform Francis that 1811 would be a 
 year of outward peace, during which Napoleon might 
 prepare for a campaign against Russia in 1812. Austria, 
 he added, must arm and hold aloof, ready to take fortune 
 by either hand. Thenceforward, Metternich played his 
 role with consummate duplicity. He signed a treaty of 
 alliance with Napoleon and equipped a corps of 30,000 
 for the right wing of the Grand Army ; but at the same 
 time he assured the Czar that Austria's feelings towards 
 Russia were friendly, — and the Czar, believing that 
 Metternich acted from compulsion rather than from pref- 
 erence, bore him no malice. When space and the ele- 
 ments achieved what half a dozen European coalitions 
 had failed to achieve, — the destruction of Napoleon's 
 army, — Metternich deemed the hour of Austria's deliv- 
 erance near. He saw that Napoleon, though checked, 
 was not yet crushed, that he would strain every sinew to 
 retrieve in 1813 the prestige lost in 1812. Austria was 
 still bound to France by treaty, but Metternich had no 
 intention of respecting it. Increasing the strength of the 
 Austrian army as quietly as possible, he announced that 
 Austria's sole interest was to mediate between the belli- 
 gerents. Napoleon, however, was suspicious and ordered 
 his agent Otto to pin the slippery Chancellor to his obli- 
 gations. But Metternich fooled Otto as easily as a jug- 
 gler mystifies a child. Then Narbonne, a subtle diplo- 
 matist, was sent to Vienna, and he thrust so near the 
 truth that Metternich was embarrassed. "Why was 
 Austria arming? Oh, merely to be in the position where 
 she could forcibly mediate, should her offices as peace- 
 maker be rejected." Napoleon scented treachery, but he
 
 THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA. 127 
 
 hoped to outstrip it. At Liitzen and Bautzen he whipi)ed 
 the Russians and Prussians. Then there was a brief 
 pause, for victory had been as costly to him as defeat to 
 his enemies. Metternich, having ah-eady secretly inti- 
 mated to the Allies that he intended to join them, 
 exclaimed, "The hour has struck;" but he still delayed 
 to take the irrevocable step, because Austria still required 
 a few weeks to complete her armament. Summoned to 
 Dresden to confer with Napoleon, his one purpose there 
 was to dissemble in order to gain time. The Emperor 
 and Chancellor met at the former's quarters in the Mar- 
 colini Garden. 
 
 That interview is surely one of the most memorable set 
 down in human annals. On the one hand, Napoleon, a 
 lion at bay, representing in some fashion a world-system 
 destined to revolutionize Europe; on the other hand, 
 Metternich, a fox, representing a world-system which but 
 recently seemed hopelessly stricken, and now seems on 
 the point of resurrection, — these are the speakers in the 
 dialogue. The Lion storms, threatens, coaxes: the Fox 
 listens calmly, almost disdainfully, calculating the 
 strength of the trap into which his foe must fall. It is 
 an eight-hours' parley between tlie Present, still confident 
 of its superiority, and the Past, unexpectedly come back 
 to life antl covetous of its former power. The Li<in 
 roars, but the Fox does not tremble: time was when the 
 King of Beasts did not roar but did strik(\ and now 
 sound and fury signify nothing. Na})()k'()U leads Met- 
 ternich into an inner room and sliows him the map of 
 Europe: Austria, he declares, shall have this com])ensa- 
 tion and that, if she but hold true to France; for France 
 and Austria together may laugh at coalitions. Metter- 
 nich is evasive, he promises nothing; he is already 
 thinking how long it will take his army in Bohemia to 
 march over to the allied canip. Xaj)oleon ai)})eals to the 
 pride of the; Ilapsburgs: was it for nothing that he wcddi'd
 
 128 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 the Austrian archduchess? Metternich replies that fam- 
 ily considerations cannot interfere with his master's duty 
 to his State. Napoleon in wrath flings his hat on the 
 floor; Metternich, leaning imperturbably against a cabi- 
 net, does not condescend to pick it up; the Old Regime 
 no longer fears the Revolution. From noon till night the 
 fateful encounter lasts. Neither is deceived by his antag- 
 onist's ruses; each feels that there can be no league, no 
 compromise between the systems they represent; each 
 knows the other too well to hope to dupe him. At last 
 they part, the irrevocable word still unsaid. Metternich 
 lingers yet a few days at Dresden. They agree upon a 
 conference to be held at Prague to discuss the terms of 
 peace, — a pretense which neither means shall be more 
 than a pretense; but it secures for Metternich the twenty 
 days needed for his army in Bohemia, and for Napoleon 
 time to replete the regiments decimated in the late bat- 
 tles. And so, with peace on their lips, but war in their 
 hearts, Metternich finally quits Napoleon and Dresden. 
 The Austrian Fox has counted the allied forces, they 
 outnumber the French three to one; he is satisfied that 
 the Old Regime can now overwhelm this terrific "incarna- 
 tion of the Revolution." Napoleon, on his side, measures 
 the full stature of his peril, but trusts that his genius and 
 desperation may countervail the odds against him, and re- 
 solves to die fighting as a Lion sliould. The sham truce 
 ends ; beacon fires flash the news from peak to peak in 
 Bohemia that Austria has declared war against Napoleon. 
 The Allies press on Dresden and are hurled back by a 
 Titanic efi^ort. For a moment it seems that Napoleon 
 may triumph. But he fails to pursue his advantage, his 
 generals are worsted, and he falls back on Leipzig. 
 There, in mid-battle, the Saxons desert him, the odds are 
 too great, and he loses. Metternich has won. His tactics 
 in this campaign may stand forever as a pattern of the 
 methods of the old school of diplomacy.
 
 THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA. 129 
 
 With equal cunning he managed the policy of the Al- 
 lies during their first invasion of France. When the 
 Prussians were too eager for vengeance, he checked them 
 by exciting the jealousy of the Czar, and when the Czar 
 was headstrong, he brought him to terms by threatening 
 to withdraw the Austrian army from the Alliance. At 
 the Congress of Vienna he was both chart-maker and pilot. 
 He dictated his views at the session of the diplomats ; he 
 strutted with monarchs in the drawing-rooms ; he dallied 
 with duchesses in their boudoirs. When the greed of 
 Prussia and Russia would have devoured prey which 
 Austria, not less greedy but more circumspect, wished to 
 keep from them, he formed a secret treaty with France 
 and England and was prepared to resist the northern 
 gluttons by arms. He so thwarted and badgered the 
 Czar, that Alexander, in a passion, sent a second to him 
 to demand an apology or a duel. What a spectacle that 
 would have been, the Autocrat of all the Russias and the 
 Cliancellor of the Austrian State engaged in a duel, while 
 all the monarchs and ministers of Europe looked on! 
 Motternich would not apologize; he merely insinuated 
 that the misunderstanding was due to the deafness of the 
 Prussian minister, and Emperor Francis was able to 
 patch up a reconciliation. For the sake of his liaison 
 with Murat's wife, Metternich woidd have kept IVIurat 
 on the throne of Naples, and his ])ersistency in pressing 
 this matter might have brought the Congress to blows, 
 had not Murat, by imtimely impetuosity, put himself be- 
 yond the pale of even Metternich's favor. Xai)oleou's 
 escape from Elba caused tlie Powers to drop their quar- 
 rels, and to complete more liarmonionsly the division of 
 their booty. Thus conniving, bullying, cajoling, neutral- 
 izing greed with greed, ])atient at waiting, quick at strik- 
 ing, Mettei-nieh ])resided over the delilx-rations of the 
 Congress of \'ieiuia, and wrote the ti-eaty there pro- 
 claimed as the new charter of Europe. W'atei'loo swept 
 from tin; scene the onlv rival whom he feared.
 
 130 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Metternich's political creed was simple: he believed in 
 absolute monarchy, privileged aristocracy, and a multi- 
 tude of obedient subjects. It was for the interest of 
 crown and court to treat these last well, to give them as 
 sheep good pasturage and shelter ; but if they were neg- 
 lected, or abused, or even killed, there was no redress; 
 no society for the prevention of cruelty to animals had as 
 yet been organized. Metternich saw that the French 
 Revolution attacked this social system, — that its promot- 
 ers would have substituted rejjresentative for autocratic 
 government; and he was shrewd enough to see that the 
 rulers who would thus be chosen would rarely be those 
 who owed their position to birth or privilege. If he per- 
 ceived with equal clearness the rising spirit of nationality 
 and its tendency, he acted as if unaware that it must be 
 reckoned with. Yet this spirit had already given tremen- 
 dous strength to France in her repulse of the first Eu- 
 ropean coalition ; it had been one of the secrets of Napo- 
 leon's success, in that he took care to identify his glory 
 with that of the French people; it had been used by him 
 to incite Italy, Poland, and Hungary, and then spurned 
 when he thought it had served his purpose ; it had kin- 
 dled Prussia, nay all Germany, to such a fever of indig- 
 nation that the Germans rose as one man in 1813 to 
 throw off Napoleon's yoke. But Metternich ignored this 
 principle, — at the most he laughed at it as a silly en- 
 thusiasm, an effervescence of political idealism, not to be 
 encouraged. In reconstructing Europe, he attended only 
 to dynastic interests. When it was necessary to cut a 
 race into several slices, and to give these to different 
 monarchs, he did so without scruple ; for peace depended 
 upon keeping, as nearly as possible, the equilibrium 
 among the greeds of the various gluttons. His cardinal 
 mistake was in supposing that by ridding Europe of Na- 
 poleon he had destroyed the Revolution. Napoleon was 
 not the true embodiment of the Revolution; he was a
 
 THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA. 131 
 
 despot who differed only in his genius and methods from 
 the hereditary despots, — a man of force so herculean 
 that he could bridle the vast energy liberated in 1789, 
 and drive it along the road of his personal ambition. In 
 thus confounding Napoleon's cause with that of the Rev- 
 olution, Metternich made a blunder common to the poli- 
 ticians of his time, and often repeated by later historians, 
 especially in England. 
 
 In 1815 much contributed to justify this error. Eu- 
 rope was thoroughly exhausted ; the wars of twenty years 
 had been waged for ambition and not for principle ; Eu- 
 rope now asked for peace at any terms. The Arch-dis- 
 turber being finally crushed, Metternich proposed to 
 restore the good old times when the Corsican Ogre and 
 the Reign of Terror were as yet undreamt of, and the 
 divine right of kings was as yet inviolate. To accom})lish 
 this, it was only necessary to prevent any of the legiti- 
 mate sovereigns from getting more than his share of the 
 plunder; and then to agree that the division should be 
 irrevocable. There were five great monarchs and a score 
 of princelings, each of whom, like the Do-nothing Kings 
 of yore, had his Mayor of the Palace, or Chancellor, or 
 Minister, to take counsel with and to be guided by. It 
 is a strange fact that God should have intrusted the gov- 
 ernment of the world to a few sovereigns, but it is 
 stranger that, this being His pleasure. He neglected to 
 endow them with ability to govern. Tlie humor of this 
 paradox esca])ed tlie notice of m;inkind until very recently ; 
 the sovereigns themselves have not yet ])ereeived it, and 
 they are certain never to be enliglitened by their masters, 
 the Ministers. Metternir-h iiimself enjoyed too well the 
 reality of power to fret because a mediocrity wore the 
 trappings of jmwer. He vahied things, not names. If 
 his cynic eyes saw many absurdities, he repressed liis 
 smile and gravely ])erfornied tlieni ; for he knew that they 
 too were essentials in the system from which his inlhi-
 
 132 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 ence sprang. Dutifully he walked through his figure in 
 the court quadrille, and stickled for the observance of 
 the minutest punctilio. Perhaps he wished to believe 
 that there was some occult virtue in these things them- 
 selves, — as a half-skeptic might wish to be benefited by 
 touching holy relics, — at any rate, he held them to be 
 indispensable for maintaining that form of society in 
 which he was supreme. His almanac plainly read 1815, 
 but he covenanted with his wit to humor the oligarchy 
 which believed itself living in 1770; so a physician 
 humors the follies of his mildly insane patients. He had 
 in Emperor Francis a perfect master, a sovereign with 
 just enough force to seem to act of his own motion, but 
 not keen enough to see that his thoughts and will merely 
 echoed Metternich's suggestions. As an Athenian actor 
 spoke through a mask in order that his voice might carry 
 farther, so Metternich's utterances gained in volume and 
 authority in passing through the Emperor's lips. 
 
 Europe being thus at the disposal of a few monarchs 
 and their counselors, diplomacy, — the art of ruling by 
 chicane, — was brought to its highest pitch, and the 
 control of Europe must needs pass to the diplomat who 
 excelled in craft. A pretense of virtue was of course 
 made ; for even arrant villains do not publish themselves 
 by that name, and in diplomacy as in other arts, perfec- 
 tion consists in hiding art. At the instigation of the 
 Czar, the Emperor of Austria and the King of Prussia 
 joined in forming at Paris (September 14, 1815) what is 
 known as the Holy Alliance, a compact in which those 
 three monarchs solemnly declare "that the present act 
 has for its ol)ject to manifest in the face of the universe 
 their immovable determination to take for the rule of their 
 conduct, whether in the administration of their respec- 
 tive States, or in their political relations with any other 
 government, only the precepts of this holy (Cln-istian) 
 religion, — precepts of justice, of charity, and of peace.
 
 THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA. 133 
 
 which, far from being applicable to private life alone, 
 should on the contrary directly influence the resolutions 
 of princes and guide their actions, as being the only 
 means in order to consolidate human institutions and to 
 remedy their imperfections." The tender-hearted mon- 
 archs added that they would be as brothers to each other, 
 and "as fathers of a family toward their subjects and 
 armies."^ Metternich, the worldly-wise, smiled at this 
 manifesto as "nothing more than a philanthropic aspira- 
 tion clothed in a i-eligious garb." He suspected that the 
 evil-minded would misinterpret and that the jokers would 
 ridicule it, but none knew better than he the flimsiness of 
 diplomatic agreements, and accordingly he consented to 
 it. Christianity has had many crimes committed in its 
 name; the Holy Alliance made Christianity the cloak 
 under which the kings of Europe conspired to perpetuate 
 the helotage of their subjects. ^Vletternich found it all the 
 easier to direct kings whose common interest it was to 
 uphold the paternal system therein approved, lie exerted 
 his influence over each of them separately ; if the monarch 
 were obdurate, he wheedled his minister; if the minister 
 were wary, he prejudiced the monarch against him.^ Now 
 by flattery, and now by specious argument, he won his 
 advantage. When the Czar or tlie Prussian king grew 
 restive at Austria's adroitly-concealed domination over 
 them, Metternich frightened them by hinting that he liad 
 information of revolutionary plots about to ex])l()de in 
 their realms. He made secret combinations l)etween 
 Austria and each of the Powers, so that, should one of 
 them (Microach, he could overwhclia it by an unexi)ected 
 coalition. Like a trickster at cards, he marked every 
 card in ilw pack and could always l)lay the ace. He 
 judged characttM's as lie foiuul them plastic or rigid in his 
 
 ' FI.'LssMii, iii. 
 
 '^ 'Dims lie tried tii ])icjii(lic<- Alrxamlcr a^aiiisl Capo d' Istiia, and Fred- 
 erick ^^'illiam ai^aiiist Stein.
 
 134 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 hands: George the Fourth was a noble prince and an 
 uncorrupted gentleman; Castlereagh was a wise and just 
 statesman; but Canning was a " maleficent meteor, " Stein 
 a dangerous visionary, and Capo d' Istria a fool. "Why 
 is it," he asks in a tone of condescending pity, "that so 
 many fools are thoroughly good men?"^ He wrote in 
 one vein to the king, in another to the king's adviser. - 
 He would find justification for his claims in some treaty 
 or custom centuries old, or he would unblushingly ignore 
 any clause of a treaty which he himself had signed."^ He 
 told the truth when he knew it would not be believed ; he 
 prevaricated when he intended his falsehood should pass 
 for truth. This was diplomacy, these the "Christian 
 precepts " by which one hundred and fifty millions of 
 Europeans were governed. In a society where every one 
 lies, falsehoods of equal cunning nullify each other. 
 Metternich took care that his should excel in verisimili- 
 tude and in subtlety. It was an open battle of craft; 
 but his craft was as superior to that of his competitors as 
 a slow, undetectable poison is more often fatal than the 
 hasty stab of a bravo. He fished both with hooks and 
 nets : if one broke, the other held. The chief falsehood, 
 still potent to deceive, was to persuade nations that their 
 interests coincided with the ambitions of dynasties and 
 cabinets. When the Czar quarrels with the Austrian 
 emperor, for instance, he persuades his Russians that 
 they have a personal grievance against the peoples of 
 Austria; and an army of Muscovite peasants set forth 
 to slaughter an army of Austrian peasants : a wonderful 
 delusion, which kings and chancellors will profit l)v, until 
 the populations of Evirope rise above the level of sheep ! 
 Metternich, who cared nothing for national sentiments, 
 
 1 Memoirs, iii, 3G4. 
 
 '■^ As in the ease of Louis Philippe and Guizot ; see Mazade : Un Chaii- 
 cellier (V Ancien Regime, chap. (5. 
 
 ^ As when, at Carlsbad, he ignored § 13 of the Treaty of Vienna.
 
 THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA. 135 
 
 nevertheless used them, as a chemist uses chemicals, to 
 neutralize each other, by setting antipathy against anti- 
 pathy, or by creating artificial combinations. 
 
 He was, we may affirm, sincerely insincere; strongly 
 attached to the Ilapsburg dynasty, and patriotic in so far 
 as the aggrandizement of that House corresponded with 
 the interests of the Austrian State. But the central 
 figure in his perspective was always himself, whom he 
 regarded as the savior of a social order whose })reserva- 
 tion held back the world from chaos. When he stood 
 off from himself and contemplated the resjjonsibility 
 heaped upon him, he was almost overcome by a mystic 
 awe of himself; he felt as Atlas must have felt when, in 
 gloomy moments, he reflected that he was mortal, and 
 that when he died the heavens would fall and crush the 
 earth. He spoke of his mission as an "apostolate." He 
 was gratified by observing tlie sudden "moral improve- 
 ment" which attended his visit, however short, to a recal- 
 citrant sovereign, or to a hot-bed of conspirators. He 
 testifies that the "pure and just" always hailed him as a 
 deliverer, and he rejoiced in the hatred and fear he in- 
 spired in the "bad." Yet he cherished no delusions, 
 except that primal delusion that the Old Regime could 
 be permanently anchored in the swift-flowing, bottondess 
 stream of time. He had every boat out, and every man 
 tugging at the oars, to keep the prow of the old galleon 
 lieaded against the current ; but he; saw her slipping down, 
 decade by decade, and \u) knew that the rowers must at 
 the end flag and fail. ''They will last our time; after 
 us, the Deluge," was a saying he liked to (juote. 
 
 To resist all change, — that was his ])uli('y; to keep 
 the surface smooth. — that was his jx'ace. Mankind are 
 mostly the dupes of apiH^ai-mccs, and he had the ait of 
 drai)iiig Europe in what appearances lu> chose. After a 
 ]»aroxysm of fever, she lay in a stupor: he drew tight the 
 curtains round her Ix'd, -pretty chintz curtains with
 
 136 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Watteau patterns; and if you asked to see the patient, 
 he said, "She sleeps," and extolled the grace of those 
 ladies in damask and gentlemen in satin, so artfully- 
 woven in the chintz. Yet with the facts on the surface 
 he dealt quickly, decisively, outwitting his rivals in di- 
 plomacy because he knew exactly what he wanted and how 
 to get it. Like Napoleon, he had a contempt for ideo- 
 logues. "Phrases ruin the world, but save nobody;" 
 " people only conspire profitably against things, not against 
 theories," are two maxims of this adroit phrase-maker, 
 who was sparkling-Gallic rather than opaque-German in 
 his temperament. lie likened himself to a spider, spin- 
 ning a vast web. "I begin to know the world well," he 
 said, "and I believe that the flies are eaten by the spi- 
 ders only because they die naturally so young that they 
 have no time to gain experience, and do not know what 
 is the nature of a spider's web."^ How many flies he 
 caught during his forty years' spinning! but his success, 
 he admitted, was due quite as much to their blindness as 
 to his cunning. "I have never worn a mask, and those 
 who have mistaken me must have very bad eyes."^ The 
 very ease and inevitableness of his capture cloyed him; 
 he longed for worthier antagonists to increase his fame 
 and call out his reserves. He regretted that there were 
 no more great actors on the stage, after "the only gen- 
 ius the eighteenth century had produced " had been 
 driven from it. He seemed to delight in royal confer- 
 ences in order that he might have the excitement of 
 manipulating Alexander and Frederick William ; for his 
 own Emperor, Francis, was as pliable as putty in his 
 hands. 
 
 Such was Metternich, " the most worldly, the most dex- 
 terous, the most fortunate of politicians," the embodiment 
 of that Old Regime strangely interpolated in the nine- 
 teenth century. Knowing him, we shall know the nature 
 1 Memoirs, in, 367. ^ Und, o26.
 
 THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA. 137 
 
 of the resistance which checked every patriotic impulse, 
 every effort towards progress in Italy, between 1815 and 
 1848. Few names have been hated as his was hated, or 
 feared as his was feared. The Italians pictured to them- 
 selves a monster, a worse than Herod, who gloated over 
 human suffering, and spent his time in inventing new 
 tortures for his victims. lie regarded them, and all lib- 
 erals, as natural enemies to the order in which he flour- 
 ished; and he had no more mercy for them than the 
 Spanish Inquisitors had for heretics. One thing he knew, 
 they could not both thrive : and he having the superior 
 power used it. "All your cry for liberty and reform," 
 he said, "'"means simply, Otcz-vous de la,queje in y ;>/ace, 
 ' You step down, that I may step up.' " Doubtless his 
 victims would have been surprised could they have seen 
 this "monster" in his daily life, where he ajjpeared only 
 a polished man-of-the-world, too self-possessed to be a 
 dandy, and yet affecting a liglitnoss not always becoming 
 in a statesman. Affable and never dull, few could re- 
 member to have seen angry flashes in those imperturbable 
 eyes, or any but a deliberate smile on those self-compla- 
 cent lips. He cowered some men by a certain haughti- 
 ness; he captivated others by counterfeit frankness, or 
 by flattery; and he could even turn <m tlie fountain of 
 tears, wlien the heats of diploniiu-y could be (lucnched 
 in no other way. Women of the highest rank were 
 proud to submit to his gallantly. After the fashion of 
 an amateur, he amused himself with painting and science, 
 and took satisfaction in having it appear that wei-e the 
 cares of State ten times heaviiT, they could not exceed 
 his strength, nor interrupt his pleasures. lie had the 
 dangerous ])rivilege of believing lliat he was infallible, 
 that all his deeds were ])erfect. and in his old agt', when 
 the Inirricane of another revolution had swept his wel) 
 away forever, he declared that, wer<' he to live his caret'r 
 again, he would not alter a single act.
 
 138 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 These, then, were the principles which dominated Eu- 
 rope after the downfall of Napoleon, and this was the 
 man who signed the doom of tyranny against the Italians 
 in the year 1815. The Era of the Lion was succeeded by 
 the Era of the Fox, Force by Craft : but the Fox was too 
 wily to trust wholly to diplomatic chicane; he had the 
 Catholic Church as an ally, and when both diplomatic 
 and clerical deceit failed, he had the armies of the Holy 
 Alliance ready to compel obedience.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE RETURN OF THE DESPOTS, 1814-15. 
 
 The Treaty of Vienna only confirmed the doom of 
 tyranny which the Italians had seen to Le im})endin<^ for 
 nearly a year. Early in 1814, when the Allies were 
 tightening their coil round Napoleon, they made fine 
 promises of liberty to the Italians, as they made also to 
 the Germans. They enticed the fickle Murat, King of 
 Naples, into their league, and they paralyzed the effort 
 of Eugene Beauharnais, Napoleon's Viceroy in the North, 
 by appealing to his troops to join Europe in her crusade 
 against the colossal tyrant. Lord Bentinck, the abettor 
 in behalf of England of Bourbon intrigues in Italy, 
 landed at Leghorn, and issued a manifesto in which he 
 called upon the Italians to rise and shake off the cruel 
 yoke of ]5onaparte. "Let Portugal, let Spain, let Sicily, 
 let Holland tell you how England acts only from gen- 
 erosity and cares nothing for selfish interest. We do not 
 ask you to come over to us : only let our voices admonish 
 you to avenge your rights, and to regain your liberty." ' 
 Then ])roceediug to Genoa, Bentinck easily conquered tlie 
 French garrison and set uj) a ])rovisi()nal government. 
 Even earlier than this General Nugent, an Englisliman 
 who had long served Austria, proclainu'd at Havenna: 
 "A new order of things is born, for tlie ])urposi' of lead- 
 ing back to you and of consolidating j)ublic happiness. 
 \ on are to become an independent nation. Show vour- 
 sclvcs zealous for the public weal and keep faith with 
 him who loves and protects you, and you will lie iiajjin'. 
 
 > E. Voi:;^\: Storiii d' Italia ,lal Isl I al isjr, ( Kloifiic.'. Iss:',). i. H'.
 
 140 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Very soon your lot will be envied and your state ad- 
 mired." Marshal Bellegarde, commander of the Austrian 
 forces in Italy, was not less generous in his appeal.^ 
 "Behold in us your liberators," he said. "We come to 
 protect your legitimate rights, and to set up that which 
 force and pride threw down." Nugent, in a manifesto 
 at Modena, February 25, 1814, repeated his siren song. 
 "Soldiers! Let your servitude cease, let the Italian 
 cease to shed his blood to serve the voracious ambition of 
 foreigners. Do not fear lest in the new order of things, 
 under different masters, you have at last to fall back into 
 a state of weakness and subjection. No, Italians ! this is 
 not the scope of the Allied Powers. Among the many 
 most just causes which brought about the actual war, there 
 is that of your independence, conciliating your political 
 and civil existence with the rights of the legitimate sov- 
 ereigns of Italy, so that you may present in the circle 
 of peoples a single body, a single nation, worthy of the 
 respect of its neighbors, and free from the influence of 
 any foreigners. Therefore, let every one of you kindle 
 the desire of uniting under a banner which is that of the 
 honor, of the happiness, of the regeneration of Italy." ^ 
 Keen eyes might have detected dubious meanings in these 
 artful appeals, but the Italians were blinded by their 
 desire to rid themselves of their actual master, Napoleon ; 
 that accomplished, they looked to a brighter future. 
 
 The duplicity of the English and Austvians succeeded 
 famously : with little resistance, Northern Italy was taken 
 from the French. Had it been otherwise, had Murat and 
 Beauharnhais joined their forces, they might have long 
 held the Austrians in check, perhaps even have made a 
 descent on Vienna; and although this might not have 
 hindei'ed the ultimate overthrow of Napoleon, yet it must 
 have compelled the Allies, at the day of settlement, to 
 respect the wishes of the Italians. But disunited, and 
 
 1 Pogsi. i. 14. 2 ii,i^i^ 15.
 
 THE RETURN OF THE DESPOTS. 141 
 
 deluded into the belief that they were partners in a war 
 of liberation, the Italians woke up to find that they had 
 escaped from the talons of the French eagle, only to be 
 caught in the clutch of the two-headed monstrosity of 
 Austria. They were to be used, in the language of Jo- 
 seph De Maistre, like coins wherewith the Allies paid 
 their debts. This was plain enough when the people of 
 the just-destroyed Kingdom of Italy prepared to choose 
 a ruler for themselves : one party favored Beauharnais, 
 another wished an Austrian prince, a third an Italian, 
 but all agreed in demanding independence. Austria 
 quickly informed them that they were her subjects, and 
 that their affairs would be decided at Vienna.^ Thus, 
 almost without striking a blow, and without a suspicion 
 of the lot awaiting them, the Northern Italians fell back 
 under the domination of Austria. 
 
 In the spring and early summer of 1814 the exiled 
 princelings returned: Victor Enianuel I from his savage 
 refuge in Sardinia to Turin; Ferdinand 111 from Wiirz- 
 burg to Florence ; Pius VII from his confinement at Fon- 
 tainebleau and Savona to Rome ; Francis IV to Modena. 
 Other aspirants anxiously waited for the Congress of 
 Vienna to bestow upon them the remaining j)i<)vinces. 
 The Congress, as we have seen, dragged on into the 
 spring of the following year; the self-styled brothers 
 growled and ({uarreled over the spoils after tlic brotherly 
 fashion of Cain, and they miglit not have concluded their 
 settlement without another general war liud not Napo- 
 leon's sudden return to Paris forced them to ])ost])one 
 their lesser differences. Tlie Italians, already eliafing 
 un(h'r t\u) restoration, were liglited ])y a moineiitary 
 gleam of ho])e, when they learned that the ('oncpid'or 
 was once moi-e master of Fianee; they a])])eale(l to liim 
 to conu> and atone for his past (bi])li('ity by making Italy 
 free, united, and iiuh'pendent. And Mnrat, who iiad by 
 
 ' K. Coiifalonieri : M- nmri, « Lrtt> n (Milan. |S',t;i). ii, Ti 10,
 
 142 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 this time repented him of his desertion of Napoleon, and 
 who began to fear that the intriguers at Vienna intended 
 to deprive him of his Neapolitan Kingdom, proclaimed 
 himself the champion of oppressed Italy, and marched 
 northward to expel the Austrians. Brave but rash, he 
 forgot Napoleon's counsel to remain on the defensive and 
 wait for developments in France. After two engage- 
 ments his army was dispersed. The Italians failed to 
 rise at his exhortations, either because recent treachery 
 had made them suspicious of everybody, or because the 
 restored governments had already perfected their system 
 of repression. Beaten, deserted by his troops and his 
 friends, and in danger of capture by the Austrians, Murat 
 escaped on a small ship to France. His unsuccessful 
 exploit relieved Metternich of all embarrassment in fin- 
 ishing the reconstruction of Italy : on June 7, 1815, Fer- 
 dinand IV entered Naples under the protection of the 
 Austrian army of occupation. 
 
 And here actually begins the complete restoration of 
 the Old Regime, and the riveting of old fetters: a pe- 
 riod of anachronism and conflict. Under the most favor- 
 able circumstances, crabbed age and youth cannot live 
 together. How, therefore, in this case, when Youtli, 
 already advanced to middle life, beheld Crabbed Age, 
 buried twenty -five years before, stalk back from the tomb 
 and resume his hateful authority? Strive to realize what 
 this word restoration meant in 1815 ; you will hardly suc- 
 ceed, even if you help your endeavor with imaginary par- 
 allels. And for this reason : that quarter of a century 
 between the death and resurrection of the Old Regime is 
 precisely the most prolific of changes that Europe has 
 seen ; not merely changes in the boundaries of kingdoms 
 and in the names of kings, — that was but a surface rip- 
 ple, — but changes in the views men held concerning the 
 entire constitution of society, the right of individuals, the 
 privileges of classes, the object and form of government.
 
 THE RETURN OF THE DESPOTS. 143 
 
 These views spread, in spite of Napoleon's apparent con- 
 travention of them ; they sprang up, wherever he planted 
 his administration ; they were borne by that irresistible 
 but unobstreperous trade-wind, the Zeitgeist, into all 
 lands. Men saw but dimly what the fruits would be; 
 but they saw most clearly that the world's aspect had 
 altered, that the current of events set strongly forward, 
 and that some of the conditions which had prevailed in 
 their youth were now as antiquated as the Crusades. 
 But kings and ministers had "learned nothing and for- 
 gotten nothing." They believed that they could set back 
 the horologe of time and by their simple fiat erase from 
 men's minds the results of five-and -twenty years of mo- 
 mentous experience. It was as if you should take the 
 blind creatures from the gloom and slime of the Mammoth 
 Cave, and bring them into the light, where in the course 
 of generations they might acquire eyes and new faculties : 
 and then you should restore these more highly-endowed 
 creatures to the darkness and the stagnant pool which had 
 sufficed for their ancestors. Nature makes these changes, 
 whether of advance or retrocession, so slowly, through the 
 gradual adjustment of organs to environment, that there 
 is little pain. But Bourbons never take lessons from 
 Nature ; they follow neither Reason nor Justice which is 
 the supreme expression of Reason ; but instead of these, 
 take ihAr own passions and interests for guides. And 
 when Nature and Human Nature rise up and resist them, 
 they apply their will yet more stubbornly and accuse tlie 
 universe of being wrong. They liad learned nothing of 
 the needs required for directing by sane and just nictli- 
 ods the new world to a liighor goal : but the}- had learned 
 througli exile to be more bitter and more cruel; tliey had 
 learned througli the Revolution that changes must come, 
 and therefore to dread change, and dreading, to hate it, 
 and hating, to believe that the sole means of jireventiiig it 
 was to restore immediately and most rigidly the system
 
 144 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 which had obtained before the Revolution. They were 
 logical, they were sincere; and in lieu of wisdom they 
 obeyed instinct, which warned them that there could be 
 no compromise between the old and the new. To sur- 
 render a part of their prerogatives meant inevitably to 
 lose all at last : it was a death-grapple between the eigh- 
 teenth century and the nineteenth, and for a long time 
 the eighteenth believed that it had won. 
 
 With these purposes and doctrines in their heads, the 
 champions of the Old Regime remounted their thrones in 
 Italy. The course before them was not doubtful. They 
 took the old fashions, customs, and dresses out of the 
 wardrobes where they had lain in camphor during the 
 long interregnum, and proceeded to attire themselves and 
 their subjects in them. Bvit here they were confronted 
 by an aggravating obstacle: of their old subjects many 
 had died, and those who survived had grown too broad of 
 girth and stout of thigh to Avear the apparel of their slen- 
 der 3^outh ; while the new generation, trained in a later 
 fashion, felt as uncomfortable and mistimed in ruffles, 
 knee-breeches, and buckles as it would have felt in a 
 Roman toga or an Athenian chlamys. Absolutism, per- 
 plexed but not beaten, decreed that the old clothes were 
 a perfect fit, and that any one who thought otherwise 
 should atone for his bad taste by imprisonment, banish- 
 ment, or death : a simple expedient, which silenced for a 
 time all open grumbling. A man might tell his wife, 
 if he had full confidence in her discretion, that his sleeves 
 pinched, or that his legs shivered in silk stockings, but 
 woe unto him if he made these revelations in public. 
 Let us now examine in detail the cut of some of this an- 
 tique ap])arel in which the restored Absolutists dressed 
 their Italians subjects. 
 
 The condition of the Kingdom of Naples was pecul- 
 iarly confused. During the eighteenth century some 
 necessary reforms had been promulgated by Charles of
 
 THE RETUllN OF THE DESPOTS. 145 
 
 Bourbon. The feudal system flourished; barons had 
 their own courts and were exempt from many civil respon- 
 sibilities. The Crown strove to get what contributions it 
 could from the nobles, using force when it was strong, 
 granting larger privileges in return for money when it 
 was weak. The clergy, too, were almost free from royal 
 authority ; they had their own courts, and their pensions 
 from the government in addition to the revenue they drew 
 from their vast possessions, from the oblations of the poor 
 and the gifts of the rich. Even in the courts controlled 
 by the government there was little justice: the Crown 
 prosecutor paid for proofs against the accused, and where 
 the pay was in proportion to the amount of evidence, 
 accusers were many and unscrupulous. The law being 
 uncertain, both from the multitude of codes and the ve- 
 nality of judges, crimes abounded; women used poisons, 
 men the dagger or other violent means, and punishment 
 was rare, although the judges, whether civil or ecclesi- 
 astical, resorted to torture as well as to paid informers, 
 to discover the guilty. Charles strove in some measiire 
 to abolish these abuses; but by passing special laws he 
 added a twelfth to the eleven codes already in operation, 
 and his reforms, from lacking uniformity, lacked j)erma- 
 nence. lie encouraged connnerce, and somewhat cur- 
 tailed the aggressions of the nobility and clergy, but sinc'c 
 his purpose was to strengthen the Crown by autocratic 
 methods, rather than to build up the welfare of tlie pe()i)le 
 on a constitutional basis, the perpetuation of his reforms 
 depended on the whim of his successors. 
 
 Nevertheless, Naples had surely improved, when the 
 French Ke volution came to check the progressive tendency 
 of every A])solutist ruler. Ferdinand IV, now King of 
 Naples, willingly tui-ncd his face backward. Through 
 the aid of ICngland, he recovered his throne after the iirst 
 storm of I'evolution. His Austrian wife, (^ueeii Caro- 
 line, played the ])r()curess between Lady Ilaniilton, wife
 
 146 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 of the British Ambassador, and Lord Nelson, commander 
 of the British fleet. His minion, Cardinal Ruffo, pun- 
 ished rebels with an atrocity which, had it been exercised 
 in a larger field, would have made the name of Ruffo as 
 eternally detestable as that of Attila ; and whatever Ruffo 
 did, that Nelson tacitly approved by his presence at the 
 Neapolitan court and council. But in 1806 the long- 
 dreaded French could no longer be resisted. Ferdinand 
 fled to Sicily, and the kingdom on the mainland was as- 
 signed by Napoleon to his brother Joseph, who two years 
 later was succeeded by Murat. The French broom swept 
 clean. The civil code, which had filled a hundred vol- 
 umes, was replaced by the Code Napoleon; the feudal 
 system was abolished; monasteries were suppressed; the 
 army was replenished by a regular conscription; Murat 's 
 court repeated in miniature the grandiosity of Napoleon's; 
 and he too, though revolutionary and though shrewd 
 enough to perceive the benefits to be derived from an ad- 
 ministration more in harmony with the new ideas of the 
 century, was arbitrary in executing the laws. Neverthe- 
 less, Naples advanced under his rule. Liberal opinions 
 circulated freely, acting as raw wine acts on men who 
 have fasted too long. The masses, the most superstitious 
 and turbulent of any in Italy, held religion in slight 
 repute, now that a power stronger than the priests was in 
 the ascendant. Murat, deeming himself strong, imitated 
 Napoleon by drawing to him as many of the old aristo- 
 cracy as had not followed Ferdinand into Sicily, and by 
 filling the gaps with newly-created nobles from among 
 his generals and friends. He coquetted with the nobles 
 when he wished to coerce the people, and with the people 
 when he wished to repress the nobles; and when misfor- 
 tune fell upon him in 1815, both classes rejoiced at his 
 departure. 
 
 The position of a restored monarch must always be 
 difficult. If he be wise, he will forget the past and en-
 
 THE RETURN OF THE DESPOTS. 147 
 
 deavor to treat with equal justice those who were loyal to 
 him during his exile and those who upheld his rival. But 
 Ferdinand was neither wise nor just. lie had shocked 
 even the English by his acts in Sicily, where he had 
 showed that his only qualifications for governing were 
 the perfidy and craft, without the resoluteness, which 
 should belong to a Machiavellian despot. He began his 
 new reign, however, with fair promises, issuing from 
 Messina five decrees (May 20-24, 1815) in which he 
 bespoke "peace, concord, and oblivion of the past; " pro- 
 posed fundamental laws and political liberty, with for- 
 mal guarantees for the State; hinted at a Constitution; 
 pledged himself to confirm the existing civil and military 
 api)ointees, to deal impartially with IVIuratists and Bour- 
 bons, Neapolitans and Sicilians, and to maintain the 
 reforms introduced by the French.^ Of similar import 
 was the treaty of Casalanza (May 20, 1815) between the 
 Austrian general and the defeated Neapolitan com- 
 mander. The Emperor of Austria, througli his agent, 
 personally guaranteed that "nobody shall be persecuted 
 for opinions or conduct previous to the establishment of 
 Ferdinand IV on the throne of Naples; " "full and entire 
 amnesty, without any exceptions or restriction : " tliat 
 "the sale of property is irrevocably preserved; '" that "the 
 public debt will be guaranteed;" that "any Neapolitan 
 shall be eligible to civil and military offices and cnqjloy- 
 ments ; " that "tlie ancient and the new nobility shall be 
 preserved;" that "every soldier in tlie service of Na})les, 
 who shall take the oath to King Fei'dinand, sliall be main- 
 tained in his grade, honors, and stipends."'-^ To tliese 
 ])r()inis('S the liourbon king and tlie Ilapsburg emperor 
 ])ledged their solemn faitli as sovci-cigns and as devout 
 Catholics. On fJune 7 Fci'diiiaiid on horseback eiitci'ed 
 Naj)les amid the acclamations of a jx'Dplc easily cajoled. 
 
 ' Colletta: Ilialnri/ nf Xn/ili a (Kii-lisli traiislaiion by S. IldiiuT. K.liii- 
 hiii','-h, ls:.8),ii, 24S. 
 
 - Full text in I'lirotli : >'<•>/</ </' i.hni. i. 1^11.
 
 148 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 The King chose ministers against whom the public had 
 at fii'st little to object; but they soon proved themselves 
 easy tools of reaction and persecution. No more was 
 heard of the Constitution : the French codes were in part 
 abolished and in part continued, pending the com})ila- 
 tion of others more agreeable to the Bourbon autocrat. 
 His subjects learned erelong, says CoUetta, "that the 
 offices they held, the property they owned, and their very 
 lives, were no longer theirs by right, but were to be con- 
 sidered as gifts conferred by the clemency of the King." ^ 
 Immediate measures had to be taken to collect funds for 
 the ordinary expenses of government and for discharging 
 debts recently contracted by Ferdinand. He had agreed 
 to pay the Austrian s twenty-six million francs for recon- 
 quering his kingdom ; he had spent nine millions more as 
 a lobbying fund among the most influential members of 
 the Congress; he owed Beauharnais fiv^e millions; and 
 he had, besides, the Austrian army and his own troops 
 to provide for. Tommasi, Minister of Finance, met the 
 emergency by peculiar means : he proposed that national 
 property should be sold, and that the Exchequer should 
 issue rentes with which the public might buy in the prop- 
 erty, but he took care to secure much of it for himself at 
 a low figure, before the public sales. He also deprived 
 hospitals, savings institutions, and other corporations of 
 their patrimony, giving them rentes of uncertain value in 
 exchange. Under this administration of dishonesty and 
 incompetence the public debt was soon doubled. 
 
 The King was further perplexed in dealing with his 
 army, chiefly composed of men who had favored Murat. 
 In spite of his pledges, and disregarding the rule of sen- 
 iority, he promoted Sicilians above Muratists, and assigned 
 smaller pay to the latter, even when they held the same 
 rank as the former. He reestablished commissions of 
 military judicature. Nugent, the Austrian general, was 
 
 1 Colletta. ii, 249.
 
 THE RETURN OF THE DESPOTS. 149 
 
 appointed commander-in-chief of all the forces, — an act 
 of partiality which offended the native officers of either 
 clique, as they were all jealous of being commanded by 
 a foreigner. The King also abolished the conscription, 
 which being a French method was hateful to him : in its 
 stead he called for voluntary recruits, but he was obliged 
 soon to return in fact, but not in name, to the con- 
 scription. These changes were unpopular. Under the 
 French, conscripts had been well-treated and decently 
 clad; now they hiul poor food and shabby uniforms. The 
 old militia, eighty thousand strong, had been divided into 
 twenty -one regiments, one for each province; now it was 
 made exclusive, only landholders being eligible to it, and 
 its numbers were reduced. 
 
 Still more unsatisfactory was the Bourbon administra- 
 tion of justice. After long waiting, the new codes, six 
 in number, appeared, — imperfect, disorderly schemes, 
 combining eighteenth century revivals and new defects 
 wuth what had been least desirable in the French code. 
 Divorce and civil marriage were prohibited. There were 
 no juries. Trials were conducted by benches of three or 
 five judges, who, having already taken part in the pre- 
 liminary examination of the accused, could not be un- 
 biased in tlieir judgment. Arrests could be made pro- 
 miscuously, and as there was no law of Iiahcas corptis, the 
 prisoner, whether guilty or innocent, might insist in vain 
 for trial. Thus, arrest was often as burdensome as con- 
 viction. The power of the Court of Appeal was limited; 
 the old abuse of fines and remissions was restored. This 
 enabled the rich to buy themselves off: but wliat esea})e 
 had the poor, who lacked both money and iutiuenee? 
 Judges were removed for no otlier cause tlian tliat they 
 had been appointed by Murat. and their successors, ow- 
 ing their offices to tlie ])h'asure of the (^-own, took care 
 to render verdicts satisfactory to the Crown. A s])y 
 dogged each judge, and rejtortcd all his acts to the Min-
 
 150 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 istry. Open confiscation was not permitted, nor was 
 torture at present revived; bnt in place of these former 
 outrages, capital punishment of a most brutal kind was 
 adopted. According to his offense, the condemned crim- 
 inal, clad in yellow or in black, with feet shod or bare, 
 with eyes bandaged or free, and with a placard stating 
 his crime tied round his neck, was publicly executed, and 
 after death his body was often mutilated. These spec- 
 tacles stimulated the brutal instincts of a populace always 
 excitable. Blasphemy was punished by confinement in 
 a lunatic asylum, because, it was argued, no sane person 
 would blaspheme. The commercial laws were mediteval 
 and oppressive; the Court of Chancery was despotic. 
 Merchants complained at the unwise tariff restrictions 
 which enabled foreign ships to carry on all the commerce 
 between Naples and other lands. 
 
 The Council of State, whose deliberations were secret 
 and irresjwnsible, was a sort of Star Chamber; its mem- 
 bers found their advantage in proposing measures which 
 would be agreeable to the King. The Cabinet, composed 
 of eight ministers and the Director of the Police, was 
 likewise irresponsible. Tenure of office depended on the 
 sovereign's whim; therefore, the ministers made a busi- 
 ness of concealing from him any information concerning 
 the state of the country that might turn him against them. 
 A despot's advisers easily persuade him that his rule is 
 just and popular, Ferdinand, who cared not a fig for 
 justice or popularity, only demanded of his servants that, 
 whatever they did, they would make his despotism secure. 
 The man after his own heart was the Prince of Canosa. 
 Director of Police, and an able imitator of Cardinal 
 Ruffo. He had served Ferdinand during Murat's time, 
 by instigating rebellion in the kingdom of Naples, collect- 
 ing a band of ruffians from the galleys of Ponza and Pan- 
 telleria, and unloading them on the mainland. Now, he 
 employed the vilest agents to carry out his orders. His
 
 THE RETURN OF THE DESPOTS. 151 
 
 ferocity was rather that of a merciless conqueror than 
 that of an authorized minister, and since the police was 
 the most valid sui)port of despotism, Canosa had an un- 
 limited field for his cruelty and deceit. His persecutions 
 were so ruthless that they called out the remonstrance 
 of the representatives of the foreign Powers at Naples; 
 but it was only after repeated importuning that Fer- 
 dinand was induced to dismiss an officer who had ful- 
 filled the royal wishes with more zeal than discretion. 
 Canosa retired, but not in disgrace, for the King bestowed 
 upon him new titles and an annual pension of sixty thou- 
 sand crowns. 
 
 Upon the Neapolitans, a people which had been sys- 
 tematically corrupted by its Aragonese and Bourbon mas- 
 ters, and which had come to regard law as ])ersccuti<)n 
 and industry as the foolish amassing of wealth for the 
 royal tax-gatherer to seize, Ferdinand's arbitrary and 
 incompetent administration naturally produced evil re- 
 sults. Whatever was vicious or brutal in their tempera- 
 ment was aroused. The weak trusted to hypocrisy ; the 
 strong protected themselves by open violence. Crimes of 
 the barbarous type were connnon. Kespect for law, rev- 
 erence for justice would have seemed f (polish to men who 
 knew that the judicial system arrayed against them was 
 but a nuichine for punishing those who were suspected of 
 politicial heresy or those who were too poor to buy an 
 accpiittal. This is the inevitable dire effect of a tyranny 
 wliich bases its sclieme of right and wrong, not on 
 morality but on fictitious criminality. When a person 
 suspected of liberal opinions is ])ut to death, while a mis- 
 creant guilty of many mur(hM's is lightly })nnished, ])oi)u- 
 lar notions concerning viitne and vice must be perverted. 
 How shall a community estimate crimes, when judges 
 j)unish oflenders whom the king liates, and ])ar(lon tliost' 
 whom he favors, thougli the guilt of both l)e identical? 
 Italy's many masters had all taught one lesson, — deceit;
 
 152 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 and the Italians, quick and subtle by instinct, had learned 
 that to simulate and to dissimulate, to lie and to betray, 
 are not evil in themselves, but evil only when they fail. 
 And the police, who in a justly governed country are re- 
 garded as the protectors of law-abiding citizens, become 
 odious when, as in Naples, they are employed to hunt 
 down and persecute those whom the government pro- 
 scribes. 
 
 Such a distortion of justice encouraged violent criminals 
 in all parts of Ferdinand's kingdom. The burglars, 
 thieves, and assassins who thronged the cities, the bri- 
 gands and highwaymen who infested the country, com- 
 mitted their crimes in scorn, and often with the conni- 
 vance of the police. Grant that an officer was honest, 
 his very honesty might bring him a reprimand: for he 
 could not tell but that the ruffian he arrested might be 
 on friendly terms with the Crown or Cabinet. As an 
 instance of this, we are told that some of the inhabitants 
 of Piagine, a village near Salerno, seized and burnt alive 
 a family which had been loyal to Murat. The brutes 
 were arrested, but an advocate hurried to Naples to in- 
 form the King that they had in times gone by done him 
 good service as brigands. The King at once pardoned 
 them; but before the advocate coidd bear the news to 
 them, they had been summarily condemned and e?tecuted 
 by the local tribunal, wliich the King did not fail to 
 punish.^ Again, we might quote the case of Ronca, a 
 brigand guilty of countless murders. Irritated by the 
 crying of his babe, he snatched it from its mother and 
 battered out its brains against a tree ; and when the poor 
 woman remonstrated, he turned and slew her. He was 
 arrested, but the King, in view of the past fidelity of this 
 devil, released him without any punishment. 
 
 Brigandage had been an instrument regularly em- 
 ployed by Ferdinand to harass IVIurat. He had kept 
 1 CoUetta, ii, 200.
 
 THE KETURN OF THE DESPOTS. 153 
 
 Ronca, Guariglia, Fra Diavolo, and others only less in- 
 famous than these chiefs in his pay. He had even 
 appointed Fra Diavolo a brigadier - general and Duke 
 of Bassano. Komance has succeeded in throwing a 
 glamour of respectability round these law-breakers, but 
 their exploits, when shorn to the stature of truth, appear 
 simply as crimes, vulgar or base or bloodthirsty. The 
 prevalence of brigandage indicated the corruption of the 
 government and the lawlessness of the people. Murat, 
 through the sternness of his lieutenant Manhes, had, 
 indeed, suppressed the brigands, in spite of the encourage- 
 ment they received from the Bourbons ; but when Ferdi- 
 nand was restored to Naples, they sprang up again, and 
 were as annoying to the Bourbons as they had formerly 
 been helpful. Everything conspired to make brigandage 
 popular and profitable. Tlie administration was so slack 
 that it was easier to steal than to earn one's livelihood. 
 Besides the veteran bands temporarily dissolved by 
 Manhes, there were many discharged soldiers who had 
 now no occupation, and who preferred banditry to toil. 
 There were also many criminals wlio, escaping arrest, 
 took to the mountains, and preyed upon the peasantry. 
 Some adopted the wild life from a love of adventure, 
 others because they were in temporary need of money. 
 Many of the communities sympathized with the brigands, 
 but more frequently they were terrorized into paying trib- 
 ute to tliem.^ The situation grew so serious that even 
 the Bourbon government felt ashamed, and took measures 
 to check the disgrace. In eacli province a rlunta was 
 a])pointed composed of the intendant, thi; local com- 
 mander of the troojjs, and tlie judge of the criminal court. 
 They drew up a list of outlaws, set a price on every out- 
 law's liead, and when one was captured, they had only 
 to identify liim with a name on the list. IcU'ntilieation 
 
 ' A f^-ood afcoiint of the ])riii('i|>.il l)iii,'-;iii(Is will In; fuiiiid in I). Hilton's 
 Brujandage in Itnlij {'1 vols., J.oiulon, ISlil).
 
 154 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 being established, he was executed without trial. This 
 Draconic method might have served the ends of justice 
 had the lists been honestly compiled; but among the 
 names upon it were often those of persons whom the 
 government wished to be rid of for political reasons, and 
 sometimes those of private enemies of members of the 
 Junta. As there was no appeal from injustice, so there 
 was no preventive of carelessness, and victims perished 
 whose names were inscribed through a mistake. Such 
 blunders and such arbitrariness made the Juntas more 
 hateful to the peaceable citizens than to the brigands 
 themselves; and the repressive measures came to be 
 regarded as ingenious masks for political persecution. 
 
 The Bourbons, though they wished to act uprightly, 
 could not; their inveterate duplicity spoiled, in its execu- 
 tion, every just law they framed. There was a villain 
 named Gaetano Vardarelli, who had deserted from 
 Murat's army, turned brigand and fled to Sicily, where 
 he had been welcomed by Ferdinand and made a sergeant 
 in the Guards. In 1815 he deserted again, and soon had 
 under his command a band of about forty highwaymen, 
 some kindred in blood, all akin in villainy. These Var- 
 darelli ravaged the Capitanata, plundering the rich but 
 sparing the poor, and so winning popular esteem. Like 
 Bedouins, they almost lived on horseback ; their organiza- 
 tion was strict, and the word of the chief was supreme. 
 Neapolitan troops were sent against them, — the Var- 
 darelli, on their swift steeds, vanished unharmed; Aus- 
 trian troops pursued them, — the Vardarelli laughed at 
 their pursuers. It was whispered that they were in 
 league with the Carbonari. The government — even 
 that government — felt annoyed and ashamed. Forty 
 bandits on the one hand, a government with forty 
 thousand soldiers on the other, yet unable to capture the 
 forty. So the Cabinet resorted to deceit ; it treated with 
 the Vardarelli as a belligerent Power on equal terms.
 
 THE RETURN OF THE DESPOTS. 155 
 
 The treaty, signed at Naples, July 6, 1817, is as follows : 
 "1. The Vardaielli and their followers shall be granted 
 pardon and oblivion of their past misdeeds. 2. Their 
 band shall be converted into a squadron of gendarmes. 
 
 3. The pay of their chief, Gaetano Vardarelli, shall be 
 ninety ducats a month, and of each of the three subordi- 
 nate officers, forty ducats, and of every gendarme, thirty 
 ducats. They shall be paid every month in advance. 
 
 4. The squadron shall take the oath to the king before 
 the* royal commissary; they shall be subject to the general 
 in command of the province, and shall be employed to 
 pursue the public malefactors in every part of the king- 
 dom." ^ Thus the outlaws of yesterday became king's 
 servants to-day. We are told that they fulfilled their 
 agreement against the other bandits in the Capitanata, 
 but although in the King's pay, they did not trust the 
 King. They avoided cities, posted sentinels to guard their 
 sleep, and continued in their nomad life. But one day, 
 in the village of Ururi, in Apulia, where they expected 
 to meet only friends, a volley was fired upon them by men 
 concealed in buildings facing the little public square. 
 Gaetano, his two brothers, and six comrades fell dead; 
 the rest leapt on their horses and escaped. The govern- 
 ment caused the assassins to be arrested and prosecuted 
 witli so gi'cat a semblance of sincerity that the Vardarelli 
 were soon enticed into another trap. General Armato, 
 commander of A])vdia, invited them to come to Foggia to 
 a military review, and to elect new officers. All l)nt 
 eight accepted the invitation, and rode gayly into tlic 
 square at Foggia, sliouting, "Long live the King." 
 Then they dismounted, and were ranged in line for tlie 
 review. Armato, from a bah-ony, smiled and applauded. 
 Meanwliile, Nea])olitan troops stealtliily snrronnded tlie 
 sqnare, and wlien Ai'tnato gave the signal by raising his 
 caj), they advanced witli nuiskets leveltul and eal]e<l on 
 
 1 Collettn, ii. 2112.
 
 156 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 the Vai'darelli to surrender. The ex-brigands mounted 
 in haste and made as if to break through the ranks, 
 whereupon the soldiers fired. Nine of the Vardarelli 
 were killed, only two escaped in the confusion; the 
 others, unhorsed, fled to the cellar of an old building 
 near by. The troops lighted a fire at the entrance of 
 this refuge, and would have suffocated them. Two shot 
 themselves, one was burned to death, the rest, seventeen 
 in number, surrendered. A court-martial found them 
 guilty of having broken the treaty of July 6, and they 
 were executed that same day. The eight who had kept 
 away from ambush, and the two who had ridden off, were 
 soon afterwards killed. Thus the government triumphed, 
 but by such means that the people were inclined to regard 
 the Vardarelli as heroes, and to pity them as martyrs to 
 the treachery of the King.^ 
 
 Such was the lawlessness on the surface, and such were 
 the Bourbon methods of quelling it. We shall hereafter 
 explore the burrows in which the secret societies plotted 
 still more formidable rebellion. Other calamities beset 
 Ferdinand's government. A virulent plague broke out 
 which the superstitious regarded as a judgment of God 
 on the execution of Murat. Insufficient harvests in two 
 successive years caused a famine. The price of grain 
 rose to a ducat for ten pounds. The Minister of Finance 
 decreed laws intended to relieve the distress, but in reality 
 they created a monopoly of cereals and enriched the 
 monopolists. The Austrian army of occupation, which 
 helped to exhaust the resources of the country, was at 
 length withdrawn, in August, 1817, leaving behind it a 
 "fair name for discipline and good conduct." But the 
 general sickness and distress were not relieved until na- 
 ture bore a good harvest in the following year. The gov- 
 ernment, through ignorance or perversity, failed in its 
 efforts to reclaim waste districts to fertility j and it im- 
 1 CoUetta, ii, 291-5 ; Turotti, i, 527 ; Pog-g-i, i, 178-81.
 
 THE RETURN OF THE DESPOTS. 157 
 
 poverished others by restoring pre - revolutionary laws 
 which reduced the peasantry to serfdom. The body poli- 
 tic was sick of a chronic disease, and the court physicians 
 had only remedies as obsolete as those of an Iroquois 
 medicine man. 
 
 In his relations with foreign governments, Ferdinand 
 neither showed firmness nor commanded respect. He 
 joined the Holy Alliance, and was the only ruler in Italy 
 who submitted completely to Metternieh's dictation. His 
 most serious trouble was with the Pope. In old times, 
 the King of Naples had done homage to the Pope for his 
 kingdom, and had sent every year the offering of the 
 chinea, as a recognition of his vassalage. This cliinea 
 was a white horse which, together with a purse of seven 
 thousand gold ducats, the Neapolitan ambassador pre- 
 sented to his Holiness, amid much ceremony, every 29th 
 of June. But in 177G there had been a quarrel, and the 
 tribute was discontinued. Pius VII now pressed the 
 claim, not because he needed another horse in his well- 
 stocked stables, but because he was jealous of preserving 
 and increasing the temporal power of the Papacy. Fer- 
 dinand at first struck an independent attitude. In a let- 
 ter to the Pope, he politely declined to renew the ancient 
 custom, and advised that the Church should ''conform 
 herself in temj)oral matters to the century, and to the 
 condition of the times." ^ There was l)ickering and 
 finally negotiation, which ended in the sigiiiiig of a Con- 
 cordat between Naples and tlie Vatican. By the terms of 
 this Concordat, signed at Terracina, February IG, 1818, 
 by Cardinal Consalvi for the Pope and De' Medici for the 
 King, Home recovered lier ])ower in the Two Sicilies. 
 The former dioceses, to the nuiubcu' of 10!>, were to be 
 reinstated; they had been reduci'd from l.'V2 to 43 by 
 IVIurat. Compensation was to be ])aid by th(i State for 
 Church property wliich the French had sold. As many 
 
 ' Full text in Tiirolti, i. ;iiT ; Collctta. ii, ;iiM).
 
 158 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 monasteries as possible were to be restored. The Crown 
 could not henceforth alienate ecclesiastical property. 
 Rome was to receive an annual tribute of 12,000 ducats. 
 Ecclesiastical tribunals were to be reopened. Bishops 
 were empowered to censure all persons who transgressed 
 ecclesiastical laws. Intercourse between the bishops and 
 the Pope was to be unimpeded, and every one was to have 
 the right of appealing to Rome. Bishops might suppress 
 any publications contrary to the doctrines of the Church. 
 The King was to nominate bishops, the Pope to confirm 
 or reject them. Bishops must swear allegiance to the 
 King. 
 
 By this Concordat, Rome regained an authority which 
 caused dissatisfaction among the Neapolitans. Laymen 
 complained because it virtually handed over education in 
 the universities, colleges, and public and private schools 
 to ecclesiastics; they complained, also, because it in- 
 creased their taxes, since every bishop and priest received 
 an annual subsidy from the State; they complained 
 against an ecclesiastical censorship, and against turning 
 the confessional into an instrument for revealing political 
 secrets to the government. The disclosures made in the 
 confessional were, in theory, inviolable ; but the Neapol- 
 itans knew the untrustworthiness of their clergy, and 
 moreover, every bishop, in taking the oath of allegiance, 
 promised to inform the King of "anything which might 
 tend to the injury of the State." ^ The clergy, on their 
 side, also grumbled. Under the loose condition of the 
 past twelve years, priests had enjoyed unusual indepen- 
 dence : now they were held again to a strict episcopal 
 discipline ; and monks who, since the suppression of the 
 convents, had lived like any other worldling, had to re- 
 turn to their gowns and their cloisters. The populace, 
 ever skeptical of clerical virtue, laughed to see many of 
 these fat-paunched, sensual fellows, after their long holi- 
 
 ^ Article 12 of the Concordat.
 
 THE RETURN OF THE DESPOTS. 159 
 
 day of open libertinism, now reproved and driven to be 
 more discreet, if not more chaste. 
 
 The grumbling availed not; for king and pope had 
 agreed, and all must obey. Ferdinand paid a visit to 
 Rome, did homage to Pius, and the reconciliation was 
 marked by festivities. The Pope showed his good-will 
 l)y canonizing Alfonso Maria de' Liguori, a Neapolitan 
 by birth, and one of the ablest polemical writers among 
 the Jesuits. The King tried to amuse his host and the 
 Romans by the sallies of his buffoon, Casacciello, — tlie 
 last court buffoon in Europe, — but the Romans found 
 the poor fool's jests insipid, and ridiculed Ferdinand for 
 finding them funny. 
 
 Ferdinand was of that common type of monarchs whom 
 the accident of birth places in an eminent position to 
 which their mediocre talents could never lift them. King- 
 ship meant to him the chance of gi-atifying his carnal aj)- 
 petites and his whims without scruple or rebuke; govern- 
 ment meant to him, first, the keeping of his subjects in 
 such a condition that he could extort from them the lar- 
 gest revenues with the least resistance, and second, the in- 
 triguing with foreign Powers to insure the preservation of 
 his throne. Although he had pledged himself to treat all 
 parties alike, it was only natural that he should favor the 
 Bourbons, who had been faithful to liim, and should sliglit 
 the Muratists, who had supported liis rival. Towards 
 these h(i did not conceal his rancor; for he decreed that 
 the t<nvn of Pizzo, where Murat liad been taken and shot, 
 should have the title of "tlie most faithful city, that its 
 civic imposts should be abolislicd, and that salt shoidd be 
 disti'ibuted to it every year free."' He founded tlie 
 Bourbon Museinn, with the collection made by the Far- 
 nese, and although he at first discontinued the excava- 
 tions at Pompei, — l)eeause that woi-k had been pushed 
 by the French, — he siiI)se(|ueMtly ordered the dinging; to 
 ' 'I'moiii, i. ;;<i7 -s.
 
 160 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 go on. He was superstitious, but not religious, selfish, 
 and without affection. When his brother, Charles IV, 
 ex-King of Spain, lay on his deathbed, Ferdinand was 
 amusing himself with the chase, and, in order not to be 
 interrupted, he left unopened the bulletins from Charles's 
 physicians. Even after the latter's death, while his body 
 lay in state awaiting burial, the King did not give up 
 his sport. But he was soon smitten with remorse and 
 alarm. He remembered that none of his family had lived 
 beyond the age of seventy, and he was now sixty-nine; 
 so he vowed to build a Capuchin hermitage in the royal 
 park of Capodimonte, in order to atone for his unnatural 
 behavior and to persuade the angel of death to spare him 
 yet a while. He, too, fell ill, it was thought fatally: but 
 he recovered, and there were popular rejoicings; for it 
 was whispered that he had promised to accord "some- 
 thing pleasing to Liberals," and that he had cut off his 
 queue. How a monarch wears his hair might seem a 
 matter of no concern ; but under a paternal government 
 that, too, had political significance. To cut off one's 
 queue meant Jacobinism, and a decade or two earlier it 
 was sufficient proof of political heresy to hang a man. 
 That Ferdinand should adopt this fashion, what did it 
 portend but that he was become a Liberal? His subse- 
 quent actions showed, however, that a man may change 
 the cut or color of his wig without changing his heart. 
 
 In the States of the Church the restoration of medi- 
 aeval conditions was more sudden and more nearly com- 
 plete. Pius VII, and the cardinals who had shared with 
 him Napoleon's severity, came back clothed in the attrac- 
 tive robes of martyrdom. Their reception was enthusi- 
 astic. Clericals of every order felt as the Jews felt when 
 they reentered Jerusalem after their long captivity ; lay- 
 men hoped that the change would bring them benefits, — 
 such is the temperament of restless, irresolute men. At 
 first the Pope's firmness was hailed as a good omen; he
 
 THE RETURN OF THE DESPOTS. IGl 
 
 reproached the arl)iters at Vienna for depriving him of a 
 part of his possessions ; he asserted his ancient ecclesias- 
 tical rights in Nai)les, Piedmont, and France; he quar- 
 reled with Austria for occupying Ferrara with her garri- 
 son. The Holy Father evidently intended not to be 
 Austria's lackey, — that was a hopeful sign: was it pos- 
 sible that he could have survived the radical revolutions 
 of the past twenty years without perceiving that the old 
 methods were worn out? But those cheerful hopers were 
 soon grievously mistaken ; for they learned that just as 
 Robinson Crusoe, returning home after his long isolation, 
 spoke the language of his youth, so the Roman hierarchy, 
 having regained its capital, revived speech believed to be 
 obsolete. 
 
 One of the Pope's early acts was to restore the Com- 
 pany of Jesus, suppressed since 1776; another was to 
 encourage the Congregation of the Propaganda, whose 
 purpose it was to spread Catholicism in all quarters of 
 the earth. Civil and judicial posts, which the French 
 had filled with competent civilians, were handed over to 
 ecclesiastics. Each of the Legations was presided by a 
 cardinal. Outside of Rome each of the nineteen delega- 
 tions into which the provinces were divided was t<)i)})ed 
 by a prelate; each delegation was further subdivided into 
 governments and communes, and altiiough laymen were 
 admitted into the direction of local affairs, their i)ower 
 was only consultative ; at best, they were but the shadows 
 of the black-gowned churchmen. In the courts likewise, 
 appeals and final sentences were always heard and given 
 by priests. Feudal ])rivileges s])rang up again; baronial 
 coTirts were establisbed, and they only fell into disuse 
 wlien the nobles found that they cost more than they were 
 wortli. Indeed, since the interests of the nobility coin- 
 cidi'd with those of the Curia, tlie eecli'siastical court 
 could be relied u])on to i-ench-r satisfactory verdicts: and 
 since all trials were secret, the ])ul)lic could not know
 
 162 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 whose gold or whose influence weighed down the scales of 
 justice. Was it on this account that Justice from olden 
 times was represented with bandaged eyes? 
 
 Measures, but not the wisest, were taken to consolidate 
 and diminish the public debt, which had amounted in 
 1801 to seventy-two million crowns and had been wiped 
 out by the French. But centuries of experience had 
 shown prelates to be incapable financiers ; skilful enough 
 they were to gather the oblations and Peter's pence which 
 flowed into the Vatican from every Catholic diocese, but 
 inexpert and irregular, when not actually dishonest, in 
 laying and collecting taxes. They now retained the 
 French customs system, but revived the old papal system 
 of internal taxation, with "monstrous and complicated" 
 results. The police, in spite of their arbitrary powers, 
 failed to protect decent citizens. Rome itself swarmed 
 with ruffians who committed murders and other crimes, 
 ahnost without fear of detection ; in the provinces, where 
 capture was more difficult, highwaymen and criminals 
 aboimded. Mendicity, which had been sternly prohibited 
 by the French, was now tolerated, if not encouraged. 
 Why wonder that the lazy preferred to live by alms rather 
 than by work, when they saw thousands of authorized 
 beggars in monasteries and convents? 
 
 The conscription was abandoned as being a French 
 abomination, but a Civic Guard was established to pre- 
 vent tumults in the city of Rome. Its members were 
 exempt from duty outside of the capital ; they were paid 
 from the tax on wine and salt, and one fifth of the lottery 
 prizes were given to their wives, daughters, or nearest 
 female relatives. The Pope had his Pontifical Guard, in 
 which young Catholic nobles from different countries 
 enlisted. Theocratic was the government, and it was a 
 bad government. The incompetence of ])relates in per- 
 forming judicial functions, for instance, was tacitly 
 acknowledged, by the employment of lawyers to stitdy
 
 TUB RETURN OF THE DESPOTS. 163 
 
 the cases broiigh*^ before the monsignori of the Segnatura 
 and the Ruota, the courts of appeal in criminal and civil 
 cases. These counsel were called "secret," because they 
 swore not to reveal their relations with the courts. The 
 real ruler was the Secretary of State and not the Pope, 
 and while there was some supervision of underlings, the 
 high officials gave no account of their stewardships. In 
 the Legations, the mildness or severity, the justice or 
 tyranny of the rule depended on the personal character of 
 each cardinal. Education, except that of youths destined 
 for the priesthood, was not encouraged, and was soon 
 controlled by the Jesuits. There are mineral springs 
 whose waters slowly petrify any object immersed in them ; 
 similar was the effect of the papal government on the 
 minds and consciences of its subjects. 
 
 Of all the Italian States, Tuscany had the fewest griev- 
 ances. The policy of the Grand Duke, strictly carried 
 out by his chief minister, Fossombroni, was to restrain 
 his people as little as possible in their daily affairs, so 
 long as they did not meddle with politics. He preserved 
 the reform laws of Peter Leopold as the basis of his ad- 
 ministration, but he modified these so as to lessen the 
 scope of municipal and communal liberty. This central- 
 izing process had been perfected by Xapoleon, and it was 
 one of the few products of the Revolution wliieli the 
 Reactionist princes eagerly adopted. Centralization as a 
 temporary means of breaking u]) local and provincial tra- 
 ditions, and of impressing a unifoi-m government on an 
 entire country, is commendable, and under Xa})ole()n it 
 was surely Italianizing Italy; ])ut after the Restoration, 
 the Peninsula being again cut iip in small provinces, each 
 of which was ruled by an irrosjxmsible tyrant, the cen- 
 tralizing process took away from towns and comnuines 
 traditional privileges and local autonomy, whicli miglit 
 have acted as partial cliecks to tyranny. Tlie (iraiul Duke 
 allowed members of tlie local boards to be chosen by lot,
 
 164 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENrENCE. 
 
 but he himself appointed the gonf aloni ji-e and syndics, 
 and since he doubled the property qup.lifications of those 
 who were eligible to the boards, and required that twice 
 as many names should be chosen as there were places to 
 be filled, he insured even in local matters servile obedi- 
 ence to his wishes. For Tuscany was preeminently the 
 land of a well-to-do bourgeoisie, who prospered by a wise 
 system of agriculture and by commercial thrift, and who 
 would submit to political dependence so long as their 
 material interests were not interfered with. Ferdinand 
 flattered this commercial spirit by reviving the Order of 
 St. Stephen, admission to which was determined by the 
 wealth of the candidates; and thus, as in England, the 
 glamour of knighthood was cast round men successful in 
 trade. He encouraged education; refused to patronize 
 the Jesuits; permitted justice to have a deciding voice in 
 the ordinary cases in the tribunals ; maintained an army 
 merely large enough to garrison the few fortresses, and to 
 add dignity to his pompous celebrations ; and he was sat- 
 isfied with a lenient censorship. He himself took pride in 
 mingling rather familiarly with his people, as a father 
 with his family. By day you might see him, in straw 
 hat and gaiters, walking unattended in the streets; by 
 night, in State costume, he held his levees at the Pitti 
 Palace ; to which besides the Court any one distinguished 
 in art or literature was invited. Thus Tuscany was 
 regarded as an oasis amid the wilderness of despotism 
 in Italy. Refugees fled thither from the less fortunate 
 States, to enjoy freedom from persecution. Real liberty 
 no more existed there than elsewhere, but the Tuscans 
 were grateful for the Grand Duke's mild exercise of his 
 autocratic power. Those who nursed patriotic senti- 
 ments knew well that this good-natured paternalism was 
 a poor substitute for independence and self-government, 
 but when they contrasted their condition with that of 
 their neighbors, they were less eager to hazard a revo-
 
 THE RETURN OF THE DESPOTS. 165 
 
 lution which might deprive them of their actual privi- 
 leges. 
 
 Very different was the rule of Francis IV, Duke of 
 Modena. Upon his restoration in 1814 he refrained, 
 indeed, from extreme retrograde measures, as if he 
 thought that his subjects would of their own free-will put 
 on the yoke of Absolutism ; but the next year, Murat's 
 ephemeral expedition, and the evident repugnance of the 
 northern Italians towards their new taskmaster, taught 
 him that, being unable to win the affection, he must 
 compel the obedience of his people. He was dominated 
 by two passions, — the determination to be absolute 
 master of his pi'esent possessions, and the ambition to 
 extend his power. He deemed himself endowed with fac- 
 ulties fit to govern a large kingdom instead of the toy 
 duchy of Modena. He had married his niece, the 
 daughter of the King of Piedmont, in the hope of falling 
 heir to the Sardinian monarchy; he connived with Met- 
 ternich in so far as Metternich encouraged his pretensions, 
 but hated him when he perceived that the Austrian chan- 
 cellor had no intention of allowing the rest of northern 
 Italy to be imited under Francis's sceptre. Secretly 
 cherishing this ambition, he devoted himself to the task 
 of converting his duchy into so perfect a model of an 
 autocratic State that the most exacting champions of 
 Al)solutism shoidd acknowledge his worthiness to be 
 intrusted with a wider dominion. He, therefore, con- 
 centrated the government in his own hands. The three 
 ministers of Public Economy and Instruction, of Finance, 
 and of Foreign Affairs and Police, were mere servants. 
 The Council of State, composed of sixteen of the liigh 
 nobility never held a session. The public revenue he 
 regarded as his private ini'ome, of which he set aside as 
 nuich as he pleased to ))ay the current expenses of gov- 
 ernment. He recalled the Jesuits and gave tlieni the 
 charge of the universities (jf Modena and Ki'ggio. He
 
 166 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 reopened the monasteries and convents and forced back 
 into them the confraternities and sisterhoods which had 
 been dispersed by the French. He made a show of 
 patronizing art and science, but his protection was spas- 
 modic and arbitrary. The decisions of the courts were 
 set aside at his pleasure, so that the judges were tempted 
 to pass verdicts of which he would approve. He sup- 
 pressed the National Guard, maintained only a small 
 army, organized "urban" guards to preserve order in the 
 cities in case of emergency, and a military academy 
 where young nobles were trained in the duties of court 
 pages. Hating the very name of liberty, he was inex- 
 orable in his pursuit of the Carbonari. He allied himself 
 with the opposing sect of Sanfedists and with the most 
 reactionary party at the Vatican. A strict censorship 
 was, of course, one of his usual weapons. Nevertheless, 
 he had not yet displayed that cruelty which earned for 
 him the nicknames "headsman" and "butcher." At the 
 time of the famine he bought grain abroad, and sold it 
 at low rates to his subjects. His administration was 
 economical, and if he delighted in the erection of costly 
 buildings, he paid for them, in part at least, out of his 
 private fortune, which was large. Almost parsimonious 
 in his ordinary style of living, on State occasions he 
 entertained with an emperor's magnificence. He was 
 believed to be zealous to the verge of fanaticism in his 
 reverence for the Catholic Church, but his religion seems 
 to have been based on calculation rather than on faith: 
 there was a chance that the Church possessed the secret 
 of salvation, and, like a prudent man, he invested in that 
 chance ; at any rate, it could not harm his prospects here- 
 after, while the cooperation of the Church was of very 
 real practical aid to him in battling with the conspirators 
 of this world. ^ 
 
 1 Poggi, i, 196-8 ; Bosellini : Francesco IV e V di Modena {Tuvm,iS61), 
 14-31.
 
 THE RETURN OF THE DESPOTS. 167 
 
 At Parma and Lucca, the return to the Old Regime 
 was rapid but not violent. The presence of Austrian 
 regiments discouraged resistance, and it was expected that 
 the rule of the two women to whom those duchies had 
 been assigned would prove mild. Nor were these expec- 
 tations wholly disappointed. Maria Louisa, ex-Em})ress 
 of the French and now mistress of Parma, cared for the 
 interminable ceremonial to which she had been wonted at 
 Vienna, rather than for the annoyance of politics. To 
 be despotic in her court, with its thirteen ladies-in-wait- 
 ing and its twelve chamberlains, to be arbitress in points 
 of etiquette, and to amuse herself with Count Neipperg, 
 her favorite, and, after Napoleon's death, her husband, 
 sufficed for her ambition. Although she was under Aus- 
 tria's tutelage in politics, nevertheless she showed more 
 respect for justice than the Austrians commonly showed, 
 and she took a certain pride in having among her sub- 
 jects a few literary men, as other rulers had rare animals 
 or bric-a-brac. The Spanish Maria Louisa at Lucca 
 was given to a life of pleasure. She, too, relied upon 
 Austria for counsel and protection, but she permitted the 
 French codes to remain generally in vigor, excei)t that 
 she abolished divorce. We need liardly remark that 
 more depends upon the integrity and wisdom of judges 
 than upon the wording of codes. 
 
 In Lombardy and Venotia, Mctternich soon organized 
 a thoroughly Austrian administration. Tlie government 
 of the two ])rovin('es was so])arate, tliat of Lombardy 
 being centred at Milan, that of Veiietia at Venice; but 
 over all was placed an Austiian archduke as Viceroy. 
 Each district had its civil and military tribunals, but the 
 men who conii)()S('d these being a])])oiiit('i's of the viceroy 
 or his de])uties, tlicii- siibscrvinicc could usually be reck- 
 oned u])<)n. The trials were secret, a ])r()visi<)n wliicli, 
 esjK'cially in ])()litical cases. ukuIc convictions easv. The 
 pillory, flogging, and other barbarous punishments were
 
 168 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 revived. Feudal privileges, which had been abolished 
 by the French, could be recovered by doing homage to 
 the Emperor and by paying specific taxes. In some 
 respects there was an improvement in the general admin- 
 istration, but in others the deterioration was manifest. 
 Lombardy and Venetia had to bear a share of the Aus- 
 trian public debt proportioned to their population; thus 
 they were taxed not only for the support of their internal 
 government, but also to replenish the imperial coffers at 
 Vienna. They were crippled by tariff laws which ex- 
 cluded the introduction of muslin, cotton, silks, woolen, 
 cutlery, and other foreign manufactures, — an economical 
 blunder which deprived them of foreign markets for 
 their own products, and which encouraged smuggling to 
 such a degree that insurance companies were formed to 
 pay smugglers the value of contraband goods if these 
 were seized by the police.^ The method of collecting 
 taxes was monstrous and costly; and the means of trans- 
 portation were so inadequate, and the imposts so numer- 
 ous, that internal trade between neighboring districts 
 could not thrive. Shipbuilding languished at Venice, 
 where several large vessels which were on the stocks at 
 the time of the Austrian restoration were sold for kin- 
 dling wood. The government also endeavored to fix prices 
 by publishing each week a list of rates which dealers must 
 abide by; but the economic laws of supply and demand 
 had no respect for autocratic Metternich, and in spite of 
 his interference, articles fetched what they were worth. 
 Fluctuations in the local currency caused further uncer- 
 tainty; when the government wished to put silver coins 
 in circulation, it arbitrarily depreciated the base-metal 
 coins, thereby weighing most heavily on the poorest class ; 
 but it required that taxes and the public debt should be 
 paid in French gold.^ On the other hand, primary and 
 
 1 Rose: Letters from the North of Italy (London, 1819), i, 224-5. 
 
 2 Ibid, i, 149.
 
 THE RETURN OF THE DESPOTS. 169 
 
 secondary education was encouraged by the State, which 
 published the text-books and supplied them at slight 
 expense to the scholars ; but these books, generally trans- 
 lated from the German, were carefully edited so as to 
 inculcate reverence for Austrian principles, and apolitical 
 catechism was compiled in which servile submission to 
 tyranny was skilfully set forth as a religious duty.^ A 
 remark of Emperor Francis to the professors at the Uni- 
 versity of Pavia revealed his real disposition towards 
 education. "I want," said he, "not learned men, but 
 obedient subjects. "^ 
 
 In dealing with the Church, Metternich insisted upon 
 the independence of the State. Prelates were appointed 
 by the Emperor and confirmed by the Pope. A German 
 archbishop was brought to Milan and another to Venice. 
 Very few of the religious orders had permission to re- 
 open their convents. Civil marriage and divorce were 
 abolished. The State maintained in part the hospitals 
 and institutions of charity, and at the time of the famine 
 it took extraordinary measures to relieve the sufferers. 
 Upon the chief highways, upon bridges and canals, upon 
 the reclamation of swampy districts, and upon the con- 
 struction of public buildings it spent considerable sums.^ 
 A stranger who traveled over Lombardy and did not 
 look below the surface, saw many indications to justify 
 him in asserting that here was one of the most prosperous 
 and best-governed coimtries in Europe. But the prosper- 
 ity was at best material, due to the bounties of nature, 
 which only the utter neglect of man could rcuider fruit- 
 less. The cliief and incurable objection to tlie Aiis- 
 trians was that tliey were coiuiuerors and treated their 
 subjects as helots. Tlu; Italian must obey laws imposed 
 upon liim by a foreigner, laws wliieli had l)een framed 
 
 ^ PofTRi, i, 220. 2 ji^i,f^ i^ 4s7 
 
 " Cantfi : Cronistoria dclla IndijMudenzd ludiana (Turin, lS7o), ii, 
 chap. .'52.
 
 170 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 without his voice, for the benefit of a master who dwelt 
 at Vienna. Were a law good, he hated it because it was 
 a cog" in the great wheel of tyranny; were it bad, he hated 
 it because it threatened directly his property, his free- 
 dom, or his life. Napoleon's rule had been despotic, but 
 it had been despotic on a grand scale ; he had conquered 
 by force ; he had opened avenues to glory ; he had awak- 
 ened a virile spirit, and shed round him large and stirring 
 ideas : but these Austrians had sneaked into their suprem- 
 acy; they were arrogant and conceited; their emperor 
 was bigoted, petty, and unyielding; a man who depended 
 upon eavesdroppers and tricksters for his information ; a 
 man who had not a single heroic attribute, nor uttered, 
 during the course of a long life, a single thought whereby 
 mankind was made stronger or wiser; a martinet, only 
 fitted to be the superintendent of a small reformatory 
 school for juvenile criminals. So to the Italians the con- 
 trast between the recent French rule and the present 
 Austrian was typified by the contrast between Napoleon 
 and Francis; but the incompatibility between the two 
 peoples had the deepest source, — it sprang from racial 
 antipathy. 
 
 Nevertheless, Metternich did not omit provisions for 
 touching the vanity, if not the affection, of a part at least 
 of Austria's Italian subjects. The vice-regal court, with 
 its levees, its routs, its elaborate ceremonials, was a field 
 where the Lombard aristocracy could display itself, for- 
 getful of higher concerns. Crosses and cordons artfully 
 distributed among the nobles were also helpful in win- 
 ning the allegiance of their recipients. It was assumed 
 that the upper classes did not sympathize with the svib- 
 versive schemes of the revolutionists, and that being by 
 instinct conservative, they would approve of any govern- 
 ment which respected their privileges, enforced tranquil- 
 lity, and gave thein sco])e to spend their time and money 
 in elegant leisure and dissijmtion. Nor was this assump-
 
 THE RETURN OF THE DESPOTS, 171 
 
 tion ill-founded; many of the aristocrats of Lombardy 
 and Venetia felt no shame in playing the courtier to the 
 Austrian viceroy and in disguising their servitude in pom- 
 pous robes. Art, science, and literature were patronized, 
 and they throve as potted plants thrive under the care of 
 a gardener who cuts off every new shoot at a certain 
 height. The hope of scanty pensions let loose the elo- 
 quence of flatterers both poetic and prosaic ; Monti out- 
 cringing them all in his ode on "The Return of Astraea." 
 Theatres were subsidized and the galleries of paintings 
 maintained. In brief, the semblance of gayety was there, 
 but at heart there was neither joy nor content. 
 
 We may liken the people of the Austro-Italian provinces 
 to those Florentine revelers who, at the time of the plague, 
 tried to drive away their terror by telling each other the 
 merry stories reported by Boccaccio. The plague which 
 penetrated every corner of Lombardy and Venetia was 
 the Austrian })olice. Stealthy, but sure, its unseen i)res- 
 ence was dreaded in palace and hovel, in church, tribunal, 
 and closet. It was visible in the forms of countless gen- 
 darmes and constables, who patrolled the streets and 
 watched the public scjuares ; but it was even more terri- 
 ble through the work of its secret agents, its si)ies and 
 informers, who wore no badge and gave no sign of their 
 duplicitous occupation. Ko one knew wliom to trust, 
 nor what eavesdroi)per might overliear and misinterj)r(>t 
 the most innocent remark. Every police - office was 
 crammed with records of the daily habits of cacli citizen, 
 of his visitors, his i-elatives, his casual conversations, 
 — even liis style of dress and diet wei-e set down. Their 
 screen of secrecy allowed s])ies to vent their malice on a 
 ]H'rsonal enemy by registeiing mei-e snspit-ions or down- 
 right calumnies; and tlie accused. Imving no chance to 
 confront his accusers, was trel>ly enil)ai'rassed in attempt- 
 ing to clear himself. Had this Metternichian army of 
 sneaks which, for iive-and-thirty years, jdied their trade
 
 172 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 in every town and hamlet, been put to some useful task, 
 such as the reclamation of the malarious districts, they 
 might have left a monument of permanent benefit behind 
 them; instead of the heaps of folios, duly labeled and 
 catalogued, and filled with tittle-tattle and innuendoes. 
 As it was, notwithstanding their ubiquity and alertness, 
 they hardly ever discovered information of great impor- 
 tance. The post-office was, of course, a recognized chan- 
 nel for spies, who opened letters and read, and then for- 
 warded or kept them according as they seemed harmless 
 or suspicious. The press being gagged, only such state- 
 ments appeared in the meagre official gazettes as were 
 authorized by the government. And when not an iota 
 of evidence could be found against some person whom the 
 police wished to discredit, reports were circulated that 
 he was a spy. Let a single example of this reptilian pro- 
 cess suffice. The Austrian minister, Sedlintzky, gave 
 orders to search the house and rummage and examine the 
 papers of Csesar Cantii, a writer of wide renown. Tor- 
 resani. Director of Police, replied that Cantii was much 
 too clever to let papers be found that might incriminate 
 him; all the more because he was used to domiciliary vis- 
 its, through the political inquiries he had previously suf- 
 fered; and he added, "once before I reverently suggested 
 that the best way to ruin Cantii and to abate his unmeas- 
 ured vanity is to slander him as a bought political emis- 
 sary, who dogs persons in the dark so as to sell them; 
 and thus to put him in the pillory. To attain this end, 
 Torresani sent to the minister a notice to be published in 
 the Gazzetta di Augusta, and the minister, approving 
 the plan, ordered similar articles to be published in the 
 Italian journals outside of the Lombardo-Venetian king- 
 dom. And if I mistake not, it was at that time that the 
 Emperor of Austria presented to Cantii a very valuable 
 ring, as if in reward for his literary works, but certainly 
 with the intent of making him suspected by the Italians,
 
 THE RETURN OF THE DESPOTS. 173 
 
 it being the nature, not only of tyrants but of slaves, to 
 suspect for slight causes." ^ 
 
 Such was the Metternichian system of police and es- 
 pionage that counteracted every mild law and every 
 attempt to lessen the repugnance of the Italians. They 
 were not to be deceived by blandishments: Lombardy 
 was a prison, Venetia was a prison, and they were all 
 captives, although they seemed to move about unshackled 
 to their work or pleasure. But to them the consciousness 
 of being watched and the dread of being betrayed were 
 omnipresent. And there, too, were the garrisons of white- 
 coated Austrian troops ready to shoot down any mur- 
 murers whom the police could not smother. Under Beau- 
 harnais, the army of Northern Italy had been composed 
 of Italians, many of wliom won honors in the great wars. 
 But Austria, fearing lest the military spirit should be- 
 come too patriotic, dissolved the native regiments, dis- 
 missed the Italian officers, and sent the recruits whom 
 she levied in Italy to waste their lives in barracks beyond 
 the Alps. Her civil and judicial offices she filled with 
 Germans, many of whom did not imderstand the language 
 of the people they were called to govern. She did, in- 
 deed, make a show of a])pointing in each ])rovince a Cen- 
 tral Congregation, composed of native land-holders, l)ut 
 these might only suggest how the taxes should be appor- 
 tioned, and they were so careful to suggest only wliat 
 their masters wished, that their congregati(ms were nick- 
 named "asylums for tlie dumb." Every matter, however 
 ti'ivial, was r('])orted to the Aulic Council at Vienna, 
 whose d('liberati<ms were as slow and ponderous as tlie 
 old-time etiquette of tlie S])anish (\iurt. Thus when 
 Goneral Kapj), then the Minister of Police, being very ill, 
 sent to Vienna for ])eiinissi()n to visit some neighboi-iug 
 baths, the i-eply came two months after his death;'- and 
 
 ' I,;i F'arina : Sturidd' Italia (Tiiriii, IS.")!), ii. "J I'. •-."(! I ; ("antii : Cronislnria, 
 
 ii, :;'.U. 
 
 ■' Lady M(ir<,-an : Ilal;/ (Liindcn. I^L'l), i. l.")(',.
 
 174 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 thus when the fire-engines at Venice fell out of repair, 
 the governor could not mend them without authorization 
 from the Aulic Council, and in the interval the Cornaro 
 Palace was burned for want of the apparatus.^ The 
 Viceroy, Archduke Rainier, dismissed every petitioner 
 with the words, "I will tell my master, the Emperor." 
 In this wise were nearly five millions of Lombards and 
 Venetians reduced, through the application of Metter- 
 nich's system, to the condition of marionettes, wliose 
 speech, whose gestures, whose actions were controlled by 
 those who pulled the strings at the Austrian capital. 
 
 Petty and irritating in detail and deadening in mass 
 as was the Austrian tyranny, it yet seemed somewhat less 
 reactionary than that which overwhelmed Piedmont ^ after 
 the restoration of her legitimate king. But there was 
 this great difference in the situation of the Lombardo- 
 Venetians and of the Piedmontese: the former were 
 oppressed by a foreigner and conqueror who could never 
 hojse to win the affection of his subjects, however just 
 and enlightened might be his rule; the latter were op- 
 pressed by a native king, descendant of an illustrious line 
 which had for more than two centuries been associated 
 with the welfare and expansion of Piedmont. And, there- 
 fore, when Victor Emanuel drove into Turin in the gilt 
 coach borrowed from Marquis d' Azeglio, May 24, 1814, 
 and a paternal smile lighted up his commonplace fea- 
 tures^ he was greeted by the effusive and genuine enthu- 
 siasm of his people. True, they thought his pigtail and 
 his chapeau of the time of Frederick the Great a little 
 old-fashioned, but these were trifles compared with the 
 great joy of welcoming the long-expected sovereign of 
 
 1 Rose, ii, 149. 
 
 ^ For the sake of uniformity, I shall use " Piedmont " to denote the 
 entire kingdom ruled by Victor Emanuel and his successors, who bore, 
 however, the official title, " King of Sardinia." For the same reason I use 
 " Austria" and " Austrian," though the Italians, remembering their me- 
 diaeval history, often referred to them as " Germany " and " Germans."
 
 THE RETURN OF THE DESPOTS. 175 
 
 their own race. Moreover, he came to them for the first 
 time as king, as he had succeeded to the throne in 1802 
 on the abdication of his brother, Charles Emanuel IV, 
 during the French occupation of Piedmont. He had 
 spent his exile in Sardinia, holding a petty but punc- 
 tilious court at Cagliari, reviewing his few battalions of 
 soldiers, discussing schemes for future military glory, 
 and imagining himself a personage of vast importance to 
 a world which swept on forgetful of him. "I and Napo- 
 leon" was his favorite phrase, and to hate Napoleon with 
 unquenchable hatred was his strongest passion. He was 
 by nature neither cruel nor unreasonable, but his early 
 education had been narrow and his exile had embittered 
 him. Believing absolutely in the divine institution of 
 kingship, he held that as king he was responsible for the 
 welfare of his subjects, and that connnands emanating 
 from himself, the divinely - ordained, ought to be reli- 
 giously obeyed. His attitude towards his sul)jects, there- 
 fore, was that of a Puritan father towards his children ; 
 it was admitted that he loved them, but he expressed his 
 love by constant and unflinching chastisement. 
 
 His subjects were disposed at first to smile at the ludi- 
 crousness of some of his measures. He removed at once 
 all tlie oificials and employees of French appointment, 
 and ordered that they should be replaced by those whose 
 names were registered in the Palmavcrde (or Court Al- 
 manac) for 1798. Alas, many had died in tlie inter- 
 vening sixteen years! He called out the soldiers and 
 subalterns of 1800; among them, too, death had made 
 many gaps! Dismissing the higher officers, wlio liad 
 earned their rank in the Napoleonic wars, he substituted 
 for them the aged aristocrats who liad l)een loyal to liim 
 during the inactive years at Cagliari, or their callow sons, 
 who knew no mort; about tactics and discipline than wliat 
 they had read in tlieir old-fashioned history books. For 
 his courtiers, he prescribed a costume in the style of his
 
 176 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 youth, and though the Piedmontese nobles felt guyed in 
 those old perukes, they were loyal and wore their annoy- 
 ances gravely. 
 
 But the tragic was mingled with the comic in the 
 King's "reforms." Of a very pious nature, he gave the 
 Jesuits so cordial a welcome that they had erelong con- 
 trol of the schools and a preponderating influence in other 
 temporal affairs. The French code was swept away and 
 the musty Constitution of 1770 resuscitated. The law 
 of primogeniture reappeared. Civil marriage and di- 
 vorce were prohibited; it was even proposed to declare 
 bastards all the children whose parents had been married 
 by the mayor and not by the priest. Religious toleration 
 was denied, and thus the steadfast Waldenses and other 
 non-Catholics were in danger of persecution. Confusion 
 prevailed in the judiciary ; there were ecclesiastical courts, 
 military courts, and courts of royal domain. Contracts 
 and titles in property were thrown into chaos through 
 ordinances which annulled transactions and leases made 
 during the French occupation. The law of banality, one 
 of the most oppressive products of feudalism, was re- 
 vived for the advantage of the nobility. Benefices were 
 again held in commendam. The French had purged the 
 cloisters and convents and turned them to better uses; 
 now the swarms of friars and nuns flew back. The King, 
 resolved that outward forms of religion should be rigidly 
 observed, established a kitchen inquisition to find out 
 which of his subjects ate meat of a Friday. He granted 
 monopolies and exemptions to private individuals ; he set 
 aside verdicts, already delivered in the courts. Prison- 
 ers might be tortured, and capital punishment was at- 
 tended with shocking cruelty. The Jews once more fell 
 under the ban of Christian injustice. In such a system 
 individual liberty had of course no part. "The governor, 
 the commandant, the director of the police, the fiscal 
 advocate, the justice of the peace, the mayor, the carabi-
 
 THE RETURN OF THE DESPOTS. 177 
 
 neers, down to the lowest agent or spy of the poliee, each 
 had the right to arrest. But if it was easy to get into 
 prison, it was terribly difficult to get out again. A pris- 
 oner might be set at liberty to-day by order of the magis- 
 trate, and to-morrow an order from the governor, the 
 director of police, the commandant, would send him back 
 to confinement." ^ The provincial and communal councils 
 had very limited jurisdiction, — often their power was 
 merely nominal, — being checked and dominated by the 
 ubiquitous police. 
 
 Fortunately the generally honest character of the peo- 
 ple kept them in many cases from resorting to the unjust 
 means which this monstrous system held out to them. 
 The King himself was inclined to be fair according to his 
 lights, but his good intentions were often thwarted by the 
 influence of his Austrian wife, Maria Theresa, by his 
 confessor, Bottu, and by his reactionary ministers. He 
 was generous to all who had been loyal, but implacable 
 towards those who had acknowledged Napoleon's usurpa- 
 tion. So intense was his aversion for all things French, 
 which to him meant Jacobin and revolutionary, that he 
 dismissed clerks who wrote the letter li in the French 
 instead of in tlie Piedmontese fashion. Heimned in by 
 counselors as sincerely retrograde as himself, he could 
 not hear the protests of those of his subjects who believed 
 that the paternal government of the seventeenth century 
 was an abomination in the nineteenth. A king's court 
 is, after all, only an echoing-gallery, whicli always gives 
 back his own words, and the court of Victor Emanuel 
 was beyond any other in Italy ]>i"iui, jjunctilious, and obe- 
 dient. In it '''no one who loved his king and his God 
 spoke otherwise! than through his nose, the nasal twang 
 being, we know not on what ground, taken as an evidence 
 of loyal zeal and religious unction.* - 
 
 ' Hiinini: Lonnz; n<w,n'> (N'rw York. Is:,.!), 1«T. 
 
 - (;.illfim:i : llistnni nf l'i,,lini.„t ( I .i.iuloii. IS.").")), iii, ;]{:,■ st'c also 
 Pofrsi, i. ll»s-L'lS; 'ruiutti. i. :;>T-4l(l; M. D" Azo^lio: / Mid liimrdi. i, 
 thap. '.t.
 
 178 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Thus did the Old Regime reintreneh itself in Italy. 
 Everywhere the government was Absolutist and paternal, 
 differing in its rigor according to the personal character 
 of the local despot, but everywhere based on the same 
 theories and traditions. The restored monarchs kept 
 what was least admirable in Napoleon's system, the ten- 
 dency to centralization, and they revived what was most 
 pernicious in the old system, craft, deceit, neglect of ed- 
 ucation, and encouragement of superstition. Jesuits and 
 the police were their chief agents. Having declared war 
 against opinions, their entire energy was dii-ected to the 
 suppression and punishment of political heretics, and the 
 Church stultified herself by construing as religious here- 
 sies those political opinions to which she was hostile. 
 In this arbitrary and factitious scheme, true morality 
 and common decency were neglected. Obscene vices and 
 violent crimes went unpunished : a man might do murder, 
 but not eat flesh on Friday; the common highwayman, 
 guilty of countless robberies and a score of assassinations, 
 was pensioned by his king, while the patriotic citizen, 
 who asserted that representative government was prefera- 
 ble to despotism, was sent to the galleys or the scaffold. 
 Truly it was well said of the Bourbons and their fellows 
 who came back to power in 1814, that they had learnt 
 nothing and forgotten nothing. After a quarter of a 
 century of the most terrific political convulsion in history, 
 they returned to their old ways, and would fain believe 
 that that convulsion had been but a bad dream. That 
 wicked and stiff-necked people, who, in the ancient He- 
 brew myth, laughed at Noah building the ark, were not 
 less blind than these princes of the Old Regime who disre- 
 garded all warnings of their own destruction. But the 
 day of their calamity was still far off, and the conflict 
 between the Old and the New seemed still but a quarrel 
 between a host of policemen and a few noisy peace- 
 breakers.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FOREIGN INTRIGUES. 
 
 Thus the old rulers flew back into their last year's 
 nests. Each princeling would have it appear that he was 
 indebted solely to the "principle of legitimacy," but in 
 reality he was the creature of the Congress of Vienna. 
 In order that none might be strong enough to menace his 
 neighbors, each had received but a small domain. Sec- 
 tionalism among the people was thus provided for, and 
 it was hoped that the recollection of common calamities 
 in the past and of common dangers in the present would 
 draw the rulers together. Mutual jealousy would pre- 
 vent them from combining to rid the Peninsula of its 
 foreign master. 
 
 Metternich, disregarding, when he chose, his sacred 
 "principle of legitimacy," had annexed Lombardy and 
 Venetia to Austria. He would have taken more, had not 
 Russia, Prussia, France, and England been envious. 
 But what he dared not to seize oi)enly, he jdotted to 
 secure by intrigue. lie attempted to Austrianize Italy, 
 and, in so far as he was successful, he delayed Italy's 
 emancipation for fifty years. His position along tlie 
 north bank of the Po, and his garrisons at Ferrara and 
 Comacchio already gave him a formidable advantage 
 The rulers of Parma, Modena, and Tuscany belonged to 
 the House of Hapsl)urg, the other soveivigns had floated 
 back on tlie tide of reaction which Austria, moonlike, 
 directed. Kinship, therefor*', or gi-atitude, oi* interest 
 were the strings he could pull ; these failing, lie had brute 
 force.
 
 180 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 His first negotiations were with the King of Naples. 
 Ferdinand had entered his capital under the escort of 
 Austrian troops, and he knew better than any one else 
 how the nine million francs, which his agents had slipped 
 into the hands of the lobbyists at Vienna, had helped to 
 persuade Austria to insist upon his restoration. Very 
 readily, therefore, he complied with Metternich's request 
 to form a secret alliance. He promised not to introduce 
 into the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies any changes which 
 might conflict either with the ancient monarchical institu- 
 tions of his realm, or with the measures adopted by Aus- 
 tria in her Italian possessions. He bound himself, in case 
 Austria were attacked, to furnish 25,000 troops, and in 
 return he was to count upon 80,000 Austrians. Without 
 the consent of the Emperor, he could make neither peace 
 nor war, and he pledged himself to support the Austrian 
 army of occupation until it should be withdrawn.^ Four 
 years later, he asked that the contingent to be equipped 
 by him might be reduced from 25,000 to 12,000 men, and 
 Metternich consented ; for, the smaller the standing army 
 in Naples, the greater the dependence of Ferdinand on 
 Austria. 
 
 In the reorganization of Sicily, Metternich tightened 
 his grip on Ferdinand. That island had had a most 
 strange and interesting history. From time immemorial 
 it had been the battlefield of races. There Phoenicians 
 had planted settlements, and there Greeks had colonized. 
 Under the brow of ^tna, Dorians and lonians fought, 
 and the power of Athens — and with the power, the 
 splendor and the beauty — was irremediably stricken. 
 In Sicily, already the cornfield of the Mediterranean, Ro- 
 mans and Carthaginians began that duel for the control 
 of the Midland Sea that culminated at Cannse and Zama 
 and closed with the destruction of Carthage itself. In 
 
 ^ N. Bianchi : Storia Documentnta della Diploviazia Europea in Italia, 
 1814-61 (Turin, 1865), i, 207-8.
 
 FOREIGN INTRIGUES. 181 
 
 the groves above Syracuse, Theocritus sang the last songs 
 of the Hellenic genius, some plaintive, all sweet, like the 
 warblings of the thrush at twilight. The roses of Gir- 
 genti, the orange- orchards of Messina, flowered perenni- 
 ally, but the owners of Sicily changed with each historic 
 season. Roman governor reluctantly gave way to Gothic 
 count, and he in turn to Byzantine praitor. Then came 
 the Saracens out of the hot Orient, to make the garden 
 of Trinacria theirs, and to keep it, until out of the misty 
 north descended the Xormans, and subdued the Sara- 
 cens, and set up a kingdom more prosperous and more 
 enlightened than that other island kingdom they had just 
 wrested from the Saxons. In Norman Sicily there was 
 religious toleration for the first time in Christendom. 
 Greek and Latin Christian, Mahometan and Jew, wor- 
 shiped God, each after his conviction. Then the Sicil- 
 ian sceptre, as restless as Fortune's wheel, passed to the 
 Germans, and under Frederick of llohenstaufen, tlie first 
 monarch of modern pattern, Sit^ily was still the best-gov- 
 erned land in Europe. And just as the latest strains of 
 Greek poetry had been uttered there, so there the earliest 
 strains of Italian poetry were uttered. But dynasties 
 pursued each other like ghosts through the halls of the 
 royal palace of Palermo. The House of llohenstaufen 
 vanished before that of Anjou, and after the Frenchman 
 came the Spaniard. Like some precious Hindoo jewel, 
 Sicily, much coveted, did not remain long in any familv, 
 but brought misfortune on all; till at last slie droi)])ed 
 from the hands of Aragon into tlie hands of IWirbon. 
 Nevertheless, amid these vicissitudes, slie clierished the 
 traditions of her mediieval independence and forwanliiess, 
 and from tlie beginning of the fourteentli century slie had 
 curbed the despotism of her kings by a sort of pailianien- 
 tary government, which neither the feudal innovation of 
 the Sj)aniar(l, nor the autocratic encroachments and the 
 perfidy of the liourbons had licc'ii able wh(»llv to destroy.
 
 182 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 During the Napoleonic trouble Ferdinand had taken 
 refuge in Sicily, where, thanks to English protection, he 
 had weathered the storm. But his administration was so 
 bad that the English agent. Lord Bentinck, threatened 
 to withdraw his support unless the King should desist 
 from his corrupt policy and the Queen from her interfer- 
 ence. Ferdinand acquiesced, and Bentinck, in 1812, 
 proclaimed a constitution which restored to the Sicilians 
 many of their ancient privileges. As soon, however, as 
 the fall of Murat and the consent of the Congress of 
 Vienna opened the way for Ferdinand's return to the 
 mainland, he found himself in an embarrassing plight. 
 In Naples he ruled, despite his Liberal promises, as an 
 absolute monarch; in Sicily he was hampered by a con- 
 stitution which he had already violated so far as to stir 
 up the wrath of the Sicilians. The rivalry between 
 them and the Neapolitans was further intensified by the 
 King's blunders and insincerity. The Sicilians, boasting 
 of their loyalty whilst the Neapolitans were submissive 
 to Murat, sulked when officials were dispatched from 
 Naples to govern them : the Neapolitans grumbled to see 
 their civil and military offices filled by courtiers w^hom 
 Ferdinand had brought with him from Palermo. The 
 King levied w^hat taxes he chose in Naples ; in Sicily he 
 had to accept w-hat taxes the Parliament voted to him. 
 Evidently he must be annoyed as long as different sys- 
 tems existed side by side in the two halves of his king- 
 dom, so he resolved to bring both under the same regime. 
 But should he level Naples up to Sicily, or level Sicily 
 down to Naples? He leveled down, depriving the Sicil- 
 ians of their poor shred of a constitution, and he sealed 
 this act of uniformity by assuming the title of King of 
 the Two Sicilies, December 12, 1816.^ 
 
 Metternich connived at this reactionary change, w^iich 
 
 ^ Hitherto his title was Ferdinaiul IV of Naples, and III of Sicily ; 
 henceforth, it was Ferdinand I of *^he Two Sicilies.
 
 FOREIGN INTRIGUES. 183 
 
 erased the word "Constitution" from Italian iwlitics. 
 "It suited our interest," he wrote, "to enter into the 
 designs of the Neapolitan Court, and thus prevent Sicily 
 from serving as an example to the Kingdom of Naples 
 subsequently, and also to prevent the numerous consti- 
 tutionalists of this kingdom (supported by this example), 
 from seeking to induce the ministry to give them also a 
 representative government."^ And he persuaded Eng- 
 land — the sponsor of the Constitution of 1812, and the 
 supposed exemplar of the blessings of a nation governed 
 by a parliament — to consent to the strangling of her 
 god-child. When Marquis Grimaldi, secretary to the 
 Piedmontese embassy at London, remarked to Lord Mel- 
 ville that England allowed her daughters to die at nurse, 
 the latter smiled and replied that it was not certain that 
 a wholly English constitution would suit Sicily. Two 
 days later Grimaldi, who had some irony, said to another 
 Tory minister, "It seems to me that the constitutions of 
 English manufacture which you ship abroad are of very 
 light texture." To which Hamilton answered, "It was 
 needed in Sicily when we planted it there : if they have 
 now altered the cut, I believe it will ada})t itself better to 
 the different parts of tlie kingdom. Wlien such goods 
 are needed, it is better to make them at home than to 
 import them from abroad."'^ The "priuciijle of legiti- 
 macy " exacted the l()})ping off of all the offshoots of 
 the Revolution, and Bentinck's Constitution was (me of 
 these; but the parliamentary riglits which the Sicilians 
 demanded had been acknowledged long before tlie Kevo- 
 lution, in that age which legitimists fondly extolled as 
 golden. 
 
 Having thus bound Xaph's, Metternich passed on to 
 Tuscany. The Cirand Duke, Ferdinand 111, was the Em- 
 ])eroi-'s brother, and he had l)erii induced, at the close of 
 th(; (\)ngress of Vienna, to sign a treaty of alliance with 
 
 ' MftUTiiich, iii, '.<!. - liiaiulii, i, -Jl J-.">.
 
 184 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Austria; the terms being that Ferdinand should furnish 
 6,000 troops in case Austria were attacked; that he 
 should not conclude peace without her consent ; and that 
 he should communicate to Austria any information which 
 might affect the tranquillity of Austria's Italian prov- 
 inces. For economy's sake, Tuscany 's relations with 
 foreign Powers were chiefly conducted through Austria's 
 diplomatic agents. Notwithstanding this apparent sub- 
 mission, the Grand Duke strove to be master at home, 
 where the influence of the reform laws of Peter Leopold 
 was still showing itself in the more peaceable disposition 
 of the Tuscans. It was Ferdinand's rule to plead the 
 littleness of Tuscany as an excuse for not meddling 
 abroad, and when Metternieh, not satisfied with the 
 formal alliance, urged that Tuscany take the initiative 
 in making a league of Italian States to be consigned to 
 Austrian protection, she replied that, while she was 
 touched by the honor, her modesty forbade her presum- 
 ing to move before her big neighbors: let him consult 
 them first, and then come to her. Again, when he in- 
 vited her to intrust her postal service to Austria's super- 
 intendence, — a proposition too transparent to deceive 
 anybody who knew Metternieh 's habit of lifting seals 
 and reading letters not addressed to himself, — she de- 
 clined ; and she again asserted her dignity when A ustrian 
 regiments, on their way home from Nai)les, wished to 
 cross her territory. It was doubtless this refusal to 
 surrender wholly her independent action that led Met- 
 ternieh to speak somewhat gloomily of her " sadly altered 
 feeling," of the weakness of her ministry and of tlie dis- 
 content of all classes of her people, and to regret, like the 
 philanthropist he was, "that a land so highly favored by 
 nature should have lost even the hope of a hapi^ier exist- 
 ence."^ 
 
 In Parma he met with no resistance. Maria Louisa 
 
 1 Metternieh, iii, 1)4.
 
 FOREIGN INTRIGUES. 185 
 
 preferred the title of Austrian archduchess to that of 
 Napoleon's em])ress, and she willingly allowed her polity 
 to be directed from Vienna, so long as she was allowed to 
 direct the punctilio of her little court. In Modena, the 
 Duke treated Austria as a spoiled child treats a forbearing 
 nurse ; sure of her protection when he needed it, he had 
 his own wilful way in his daily affairs. It was said that 
 he organized a gang of smugglers to introduce contraband 
 goods into the Austrian provinces by night; it is certain 
 that his subservience to the Vatican, and his selfishness, 
 displeased the Austrian chancellor, to whom he seemed 
 to behave more like a i)rudent land-owner than like a 
 sovereign. But Metternich shrewdly refrained from 
 saying downright, " I forbid ; " he knew Francis's bull-dog 
 nature; he knew, too, that he coidd be whipped into 
 obedience if he became too unruly. 
 
 At Home Metternich encountered greater opposition. 
 Cardinal Consalvi, the Secretary of State, had studied 
 the ^letternichian wiles at the Congress, and was himself 
 passing clever in intrigue. Pope Pius was of a kindly 
 disposition but obstinate in certain matters, and his ob- 
 stinacy was none the less effective from being expressed 
 with a mildness more characteristic of compliance than of 
 refusal. lie had not forgiven the Austrians for garrison- 
 ing Ferrara; he suspected their designs on tin; Legations; 
 he had evidence that Metternich 's agents were coquetting 
 with the Carbonai'i. Mettei-nieh early saw the value of 
 this last ruse and often resoited to it. By instructing his 
 minions to insinuate themselves into the secret societies, 
 he could not only discover tlie seliemes of the would-be 
 revolutionists, but also frigliten rulers into accept Iul^' his 
 dictation. Sometimes he pretended to have warning of 
 an impending outbreak; sonietinu's he ])rovoked a little 
 riot, and by c|uelliug it immediately he awed rioters and 
 ])rinces alike. I>ut the Pope was too old a ily to be eaught 
 in that wel). lie declined to leai-ue himself with Austria
 
 186 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 because, he said, his duty as Christ's Vicar restricted 
 him to a peaceful policy, and forbade him, the Father of 
 the Catholic Church, from preferring one son before 
 the others. Metternich protested that the story of his 
 dealings with the Carbonari was a lie invented by them 
 to injure him in the eyes of the Holy Father : in vain, 
 even he could not bind the protean politicians of the 
 Vatican, who, like the Homeric heroes, when hard pressed 
 in their fight for temporal advantage, suddenly became 
 invisible and invulnerable in a spiritual mist. Those 
 petticoated old men wrangled manfully until the moment 
 when a foe made as if to strike them ; then they pointed 
 to their feminine garb and exclaimed tauntingly, "" What ! 
 you, a man, would strike defenseless women!" Metter- 
 nich, who had more at stake than a coveted strip of papal 
 territory, who knew that those epicene old creatures could 
 foment trouble in every diocese and parish ruled over by 
 Emperor Francis, wisely refrained his hand. But while 
 he failed to get an open avowal of his mastery, he could 
 content himself by reflecting that his influence was greater 
 at Eome than the Pope admitted, and that at the first 
 alarm the petticoated schemers of the Vatican would send 
 post-haste for his help. 
 
 In Piedmont, however, his artifices ended neither in 
 victory nor drawn battle, but in defeat. The little King- 
 dom of Piedmont lay in the bended elbow of the Alps; 
 beyond them, on the west, was France, on the north, 
 Switzerland; eastward the Ticino River separated from 
 Lombardy, now Austrian; on the south, murnuired the 
 tideless waters of the Midland Sea. The Piedmontese 
 were in character the most independent and robust of the 
 Italians. Less than any of their brothers had tliey been 
 inspired by the Renaissance, or enervated l)y its decay. 
 In religion they were bigoted Catholics, as strict and 
 intolerant and sincere as John Knox's Scotchmen or 
 John Calvin's Genevans. They had been ruled by a line
 
 FOREIGN INTRIGUES. 187 
 
 of remarkable princes, who believed literally in the divine 
 right of kings, and who made soldiers of all those sub- 
 jects who had not been made priests or monks. Thus 
 little Piedmont was, among the emasculate States of 
 Italy, what little Brandenburg was among the German 
 States, — a drilling-field and barracks. During the 
 eighteenth century it lay "between the hammer and the 
 anvil," France threatening on the west, Austria threat- 
 ening on the east. In 1814, when he recovered his 
 throne, Victor Emanuel set about reorganizing his army 
 and administration according to the traditional policy of 
 his family. He was autocratic and exacting; but he was 
 honest, and he haughtily resented foreign interference. 
 Metternich saw that Piedmont, which the brief domina- 
 tion of the French had not debased, might become an 
 eyrie whence patriotic Italians could ])ounee down upon 
 and harry his slave-drivers in Lombardy. An indepen- 
 dent Italian State, ruled by a native Italian })rince, was 
 a dangerous neighbor. His first endeavor, therefore, 
 was to catch Victor Emanuel in an offensive-defensive 
 alliance. Failing in this, he schemed to cripple Pied- 
 mont by accpiiring the Upper Novarese district, wliich 
 connnanded the highway into Switzerland over the Sim- 
 plon Pass. He pictured the ease with which the French 
 could invade Italy by that route, and urged that, since 
 Piedmont was already burdened with the defense of the 
 Mt. Cenis and the St. Bernard, Austria be allowed to 
 guard th(! other approach. Victor Emanuel rc]tHed that 
 he owed nothing to an} body, tliat he was fully able to 
 (U'fend himself, and that he woidd not cede an inch of iiis 
 soil. Mettci'uich, foiled in front, next made a fiank 
 attack, and thi-ougli his olx'dient tool, Castlereagh, lie 
 caused England to apjx'ar as tlie fautoi- of his ])laiis. The 
 English minister argued that as Austria had assumed 
 resj)onsil)ility for ])eaee in Italy, - on whicli ])eace de- 
 jtended the Huropean e([uilil)riuni. - - it was only just that
 
 188 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 she should hold the positions which she deemed necessary 
 for fulfilling her task. But the King of Prussia advised 
 Victor Emanuel to stand firm, and the Czar informed the 
 Austrian chancellor that he deceived himself if he thought 
 Russia would acquiesce in despoiling Piedmont of the 
 Upper Novarese.^ 
 
 Renewing the attack on the other flank, Metternich 
 again proposed the league; upon which Victor Emanuel 
 wrote Emperor Francis that "inasmuch as my ancestors 
 and myself have negotiated as equals with equals, whether 
 with France or Austria, I cannot surrender this equality 
 and cease to be an independent sovereign, in a confedera- 
 tion in which you would be such."^ xVgain Castlereagh 
 urged Piedmont to comply, adding as an inducement, 
 that if she did comply, Austria would doubtless drop the 
 question of ceding the Upper Novarese and would with- 
 draw her troops from Alessandria. The Emperor, in an 
 autograph letter to the King, hinted at these very favors, 
 and covered his hook with tempting bait : his own posi- 
 tion in the league, he said, would not be that of Aus- 
 trian Emperor, but simply that of the Sovereign of Lom- 
 bardy and Venice; hence there could be no inequality 
 between himself and the sovereigns of the other Italian 
 States. But Victor Emanuel would not nibble at this 
 bait; and again the Czar encouraged him. 
 
 So Metternich was compelled for the present to desist 
 from his scheme. Unable to coax or coerce Piedmont, 
 he vented his spite in teasing and petty persecutions. 
 The Austrian garrison which had lingered without excuse 
 for more than a year in Alessandria was withdrawn, but it 
 destroyed the outer fortifications before going. Not long 
 after these events Victor Emanuel wrote to his brother 
 Charles Felix: "Austria, left to her own resources, is 
 not stronger in Italy than we are. I made this calcula- 
 tion some months ago when they were unwilling to restore 
 
 1 Bianchi, i, 22G. " Ibid, 227.
 
 FOREIGN INTRIGUES. 189 
 
 Alessandria, and were asking for the Upper Novarese, 
 and I made it in the presence of Stackelberg, Bubna, 
 Bianchi, and other Austrian generals, showing that the 
 Emperor could not employ more than 120,000 soldiers 
 against us, whereas I can dispose of 100,000 soldiers in 
 an offensive war against him, and in a defensive I can 
 very far surpass him, having 80,000 men in the organized 
 militia, besides the reserves, which, with the rest, form 
 an army of 400,000 soldiers." ^ The King adds, not with- 
 out humor, that the Austrian generals were so thoroughly 
 convinced by his demonstration that the demand for ter- 
 ritory soon ceased and Alessandria was evacuated. 
 
 1 Bianchi, i, 234.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CONSPIRACIES. 
 
 By the end of the year 1815 despotism was thus re- 
 stored in Italy, the obsolete became once more current, 
 and the Golden Age of Paternalism was everywhere pro- 
 claimed. Each petty tyrant busied himself in securing 
 the throne which the Holy Alliance had assigned to him, 
 and Metternich labored without pause to bring all the 
 princelings, either through intimidation or chicane, under 
 the control of Austria. But to every government there 
 are two parties, the governors and the governed ; and the 
 rvders who had imposed the Old Regime on Italy found 
 that the submissive and nonchalant subjects of the eigh- 
 teenth century had disappeared. Formerly the people 
 had borne oppression as a patient bears an incurable 
 disease, murmuring at times, and at times writhing to 
 ease their bed-ridden backs, but not hoping for a recov- 
 ery ; the Revolution, however, had taught them that their 
 ills were not irremediable, that despotism itself was not 
 eternally fixed in the laws of nature, that there were 
 hope and freedom for brave hearts. They had seen the 
 rigid system of Absolutist kings and privileged nobles 
 melt away like frost before the fires of revolution ; they 
 had seen monarchs scamper under cover, and the Pope 
 himself led hither and thither, a mere feebde oltl man, 
 whose protests were unheeded and whose sacred office was 
 unrespected. Napoleon's achievements made that ancient 
 superstition, — "the divine right of kings," — a mockery 
 forever, and the force behind Napoleon spread the convic- 
 tion that rulers should be the servants, not the masters 
 of a people.
 
 CONSPIRACIES. 191 
 
 Moreover, the Italians had been roused into activity. 
 In the wars, many had won distinction ; in civil offices, 
 others had risen to prominence. The conscription had 
 helped to dim local jealousies and to infuse a spirit of 
 discipline in the lower classes; education had been let 
 down to thousands who had never before known their 
 alphabet. This activity implied the use of powers lonjj 
 dormant ; and from the consciousness of power came self- 
 respect, — the recognition by men that they are of some 
 value in the world, — and from this a national self-respect 
 slowly unfolded. Fifty years before, the Italians had 
 taken their servitude indifferently or with that fatalistic 
 acquiescence which deadens effort ; now they were ashamed 
 of it, and were resolved to prove themselves worthy of 
 the comradeship of freemen. You can trace the budding 
 of this regenerative influence in their very dissatisfaction 
 with their greatly imj)roved material condition under 
 Napoleon ; they had better codes of justice, a more equal 
 system of taxation, and a fair chance to rise high in the 
 army or the State, and yet they were not satisfied. Bona- 
 parte was a splendid master compared with the Bourbons, 
 but he was still a master, to whom they submitted unwil- 
 lingly. They could not hope to overthrow liim; but they 
 looked forward to his death as the signal for the assertion 
 of their inde])endence. When Napoleon succumbed in 
 1814, they' thought the hour of their deliverance at hand, 
 but they were unprepared; like sparrows tliey were limed 
 by the cajoleries and insincerity of the English and Aus- 
 trians. When a deputation of Lom1)ards, headed by 
 Confalonieri, went to Paris to ])lead for self-government 
 in Northern Italy, the Emperor of Austria bluntly in- 
 formed them, "You belong to nie bv right of cession and 
 by right (»f con([uest."' Castlereagli, the English minis- 
 ter, to whom they appealed, ent(M-tained them with j)raises 
 of their new master: " Austria," said he, "is a goveiii- 
 ment against which subjects have less nei'd to Ite on their
 
 192 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 guard than any other : in the history of that House down 
 to our time there are no traces of abuse of power or vio- 
 lence ; it never errs through excess, but sometimes rather 
 through defect of these." The Czar, to whom they were 
 admitted after many delays, cut off discussion of politics 
 by saying that he hoped the Northern Italians would be 
 content, as arrangements had been made to assure their 
 happiness, and he dismissed the envoys by expressing 
 his pleasure at having made their personal acquaint- 
 ance.^ Conscious at last that they had been betrayed and 
 that the favorable moment had slipped by them, the 
 Italians now resorted to plots. They had secret negotia- 
 tions with Napoleon at Elba, whom they exhorted to 
 appear among them, to unify Italy under his sceptre, and 
 to crown his marvelous career by becoming Emperor, 
 with Rome for his capital. But Napoleon trusted to the 
 devotion and power of the French, rather than to them, 
 in his last duel with Fortune, and after Waterloo the 
 Italians were left without protection against their despots. 
 But when kings are tyrants, citizens conspire. The 
 seeds of Liberalism had been sown in Italy, and the pa- 
 ternal governments could not exterminate them. Dis- 
 content, forbidden to utter itself, rankled in secret and 
 exhaled contagion from town to town and from class to 
 class. Officers, angry at being displaced by foreigners 
 or by court favorites ; soldiers, mustered out of the ser- 
 vice; judges, magistrates, and a horde of bureaucratic 
 underlings, dismissed because they had been appointed 
 by the French; civilians, disgusted by uncertain taxes 
 and restricted trade; priests and monks, reluctant at 
 being forced back into a life of dependence; brigands and 
 criminals, always hostile to the existing government: 
 these, and all others who had a grievance, were drawn 
 into the ranks of the Opposition. But discontent is a 
 vague and sterile sentiment which soon wears itself out in 
 
 1 Confalonieri : Memorie e Lettere (Milan, 1890), ii, 10, 10, 25.
 
 CONSPIRACIES. 193 
 
 vain fretf ulness and grumbling unless it be centred on an 
 attainable object: the object which now united the mul- 
 titudes of malecontents in Italy was the abolition of des- 
 potism and the establishment of a representative govern- 
 ment. Opinion differed as to what means should be used 
 and what form of popular government was the best, but 
 all agreed that the first attack must be directed against 
 the tyrants. This was the nucleus round which all plans, 
 however discordant, clung, the patriotic leaven which 
 raised motives often selfish and base. 
 
 The Metternichian system allowed no discussion of 
 politics. You might be a priest or a merchant, a doctor, 
 lawyer, beggarman, or thief, but you could not be a citi- 
 zen ; because being a citizen implied having certain ac- 
 knowledged interests and rights in the government of your 
 city and State, — and this was an unpardonable heresy in 
 the eyes of the Holy Alliance. Instead of being grateful 
 that your ruler relieved you of the drudgery and worry 
 of public affairs, you presumed to know better than he 
 knew what was good for you. You cried for representa- 
 tion and liberty as a child cries for sweetmeats and dan- 
 gerous playthings, and when these were denied you, how 
 you stormed and sulked at your prudent tutors I As if 
 you, forsooth, were as much interested as Prince Metter- 
 nich, or the Duke of Modena, or tlie King of Naples, 
 in your own welfare I This was the attitude logically 
 taken by the u])holders of the Old Kegiine towards the 
 champions of political freedom, an attitude similar to that 
 long since taken l)y the Catholic Churcli towards the ad- 
 vocates of lil)ertyof conscience in religious matters. But 
 the Italians insisted in believing that they ought to have 
 civic rights, and since it was criminal to discuss politics 
 openly, they were driven to dclibeiatc and conspire in 
 secret. In a short time, the Peninsula was honeycombed 
 with ])lots. 
 
 For most men, generally in their youth, seen't societies
 
 194 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 have a strong fascination: the mystery which gives a 
 fictitious dignity, the exclusiveness which seems to give 
 distinction, attract not less than the social or benevolent 
 purposes for which such fraternities are usually formed. 
 In Italy the secret political sects were the only vessels in 
 which the must of patriotism could gather and ferment. 
 Secrecy was doubly imperative, because on it depended 
 not only the existence of the organization, but also the 
 very lives of the members. The revolutionary period 
 had been prolific in clubs, and it was natural that the 
 Italians should turn to these as the fittest agencies for 
 undermining the fortress of Absolutism. Had not the 
 despised Jac.obins in France dominated the revolution 
 which overthrew Louis XVI? Had not the Tugendbund 
 in Germany aroused a patriotic fury which avenged at 
 Leipzig the humiliation at Jena? The historian knows 
 that there were mighty forces behind the Jacobins, and 
 that Stein was behind the Tugendbund, but the Italians 
 saw only the visible workers, and concluded that in the 
 clubs themselves lay the victorious means. Long expe- 
 rience with crafty rulers and an innate aptitude for diplo- 
 macy — which is only a dignified and official kind of 
 cunning — made them peculiarly expert conspirators. 
 The intolerable political situation furnished them with 
 an excuse, had any been sought, for embarking in their 
 perilous secret enterprise against the restored govern- 
 ments. The majority of the conspirators, at least at first, 
 had doubtless a sufficient motive in their vague but real 
 desire for national independence and in their determina- 
 tion to escape from actual burdens ; others conspired be- 
 cause they had failed of an office, or had lost their occu- 
 pation, or merely because they loved the excitement of 
 plotting; others, again, wished to avenge private insults; 
 and many were dra^vn into the mysterious circles through 
 curiosity or through the example of friends or through 
 fear.
 
 CONSPIRACIES. 195 
 
 The most famous, the most widely disseminated, and 
 the most powerful of all the secret societies which sprang 
 up in Italy was that of the Carbonari, or Charcoal-mak- 
 ers. It multiplied so rapidly that after a few years its 
 members hoped to clothe it with additional awe by invent- 
 ing legends wliich linked its origin to a remote past. 
 They affirmed that the Persian worshipers of Mithras, 
 the adepts of the Eleusinian mysteries, the Knights of St. 
 John, and the Rosicrucians had all been earlier Carbo- 
 nari. A mediaeval hermit, who spent his days in making 
 prayers and charcoal in the forests of Germany, was the 
 patron of the sect ; a king of France, who lost his way 
 while hunting, and was hosj)itably received by charcoal- 
 burners, had, so the story ran, bestowed honors upon 
 them and ennobled their guild. These were the legends, 
 bred by that myth-loving instinct which cradles the in- 
 fancy of sects and parties in the sujiernatural or the an- 
 cient. But Clio smiles incredxdously at these fictions, 
 and though she cannot, in tlie case of the Carbonari, tell 
 just wlien and wliere that societ}^ originated, still she can 
 discard fearlessly those re})orts of the hermit St. Theobald 
 and the strayed monarch. The Carbonari first began to 
 attract attention in the Kingdom of Najjles about the 3'ear 
 1808. A Genoese named Maghella, who burned with 
 hatred of the French, is said to have initiated several 
 Neapolitans into a secret order wliose pur})ose it was to 
 goad their countrymen into rebellion. They ([uitted 
 Na])les, wliere Murat's vigilant jioliey ke])t too strict a 
 watch on conspirators, and retired to the Abruzzi, where 
 in order to disarm sus])ieion they ])retended to be engaged 
 in charcoal-burning. As their numbers increased, agents 
 were sent to establisli lodges in the ])riucipal towns. The 
 Bourbon king, shut up in Sicily, soon heard of them, 
 and as he had not hesitated at letting loose with Fnglisli 
 aid galley-prisonei's, oi- at encouraging brigands, to ha- 
 rass Murat, so he eagerly connived with these conspira-
 
 196 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 tors in the hope of recovering his throne. Murat, having 
 striven for several years to suppress the Carbonari, at 
 last, when he found his power slipping from him, reversed 
 his policy towards them, and strove to conciliate them. 
 But it was too late : neither he nor they could prevent the 
 restoration of the Bourbons under the protection of Aus- 
 tria. The sectaries who had hitherto foolishly expected 
 that, if the French could be expelled, Ferdinand would 
 grant them a Liberal government, were soon cured of 
 their delusion, and they now plotted against him as sedu- 
 lously as they had plotted against his predecessor. Their 
 membership increased to myriads ; their lodges, starting 
 up in every village in the Kingdom of Naples, had rela- 
 tions with branch-societies in all parts of the Peninsula : 
 to the anxious ears of European despots the name Car- 
 bonaro soon meant all that was lawless and terrible ; it 
 meant anarchy, chaos, assassination. 
 
 But when we read the catechism, or confession of faith, 
 of the Carbonari we are surprised by the reasonableness 
 of their aims and tenets. The diities of the individual 
 Carbonaro were, "to render to the Almighty the worship 
 due to Him ; to serve the fatherland with zeal ; to rever- 
 ence religion and laws ; to fulfil the obligations of nature 
 and friendship; to be faithful to promises; to observe 
 silence, discretion, and charity; to cause harmony and 
 good morals to prevail ; to conquer the passions and sid>- 
 mit the will; and to abhor the seven deadly sins." The 
 scope of the Society was to disseminate instruction; to 
 unite the different classes of society under the bond of 
 love ; to impress a national character on the people, and to 
 interest them in the preservation and defense of the fa- 
 therland and of religion ; to destroy by moral culture the 
 source of crimes due to the general depravity of mankind ; 
 to protect tlie weak and to raise iip the unfortunate.^ 
 
 ^ Istruzloni per MiieMri Carbonari, compilate da/ B. C. G. M. Lanzellutli, 
 ad uso della R. V- Partenope Einasrentc (Naples, 1820).
 
 CONSPIRACIES. 197 
 
 These were worthy aims, but, we ask, why did the 
 Church, which had for centuries pretended that the regen- 
 eration of mankind had been intrusted to her by God's 
 command, — why did she leave to conspirators, met in 
 secret at the peril of their lives, the execution of her holy 
 mission? Ah, her mission had ceased to be holy! By 
 her league with iVIammon, ])y her intolerance in matters 
 spiritual, by her compact with tyranny in matters tem- 
 poral, by the pride and hypocrisy of her i)relates, by the 
 sensuality and selfishness of her priests, by the ignorance 
 and sensuality of her monks, she had lost her divine 
 bii-thright, she had ceased to spiritualize the souls of her 
 children. That Carbonaro catechism announced, what 
 many men had long felt, that the observances and pre- 
 scriptions of the Catholic Church were unnecessary to the 
 leading of a jjious, humane life. It went still farther and 
 asserted the uu-Catholic doctrine of liberty of conseience : 
 "to every Carbonaro," so reads one of its articles, 
 "belongs the natural and unalterable right to worship 
 the Almighty according to his own intuition and under- 
 standing." 
 
 We must not be misled, however, by these enlightened 
 professions, into a wrong notion of the real purposes of 
 Carbonarism. Politics, in spite of a rule forl)id(ling 
 political discussion, were the main business, and ethics 
 but the incidental concern of tlie conspirators. Tliey 
 organizi'd tlieir Order under rc])ublicau foi-nis as if to 
 ])rcfigure the ideal towards wliich they as])ired. The 
 Kcpublic was subdivided into provinces, each of which 
 was controlled by a grand lodge, tliat of Salerno being 
 the "parent." Then; were also four "Tribes," eacli 
 having a council and holding an annual diet. Kacli tribe 
 had a Senate, whlcli advised a Ilousf" of Hei)resentatives, 
 and this framed tiu; biws which a magistracy executed. 
 There were courts of tlie tiivst instance, of apjx'al, and of 
 cassation, and no Carbonaro niiglit hriiig suit in the I'ivil
 
 198 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 courts against a fellow member, unless he had first failed 
 to get redress in one of these. If strictly followed, this 
 complicated scheme must have given the Good Cousins 
 some experience in living on terms of mutual equality 
 and some notion of popular government, within the limits 
 of the sect; but fictitious charcoal-makers were not less 
 sensitive than other - mortals to the distinctions between 
 ability and dulness; and they fell under the dictatorship 
 of a few leaders in whose election they had only a nom- 
 inal part, and into whose proceedings they were not 
 admitted. 
 
 The Carbonari borrowed some of their rites from the 
 Freemasons, with whom indeed they were commonly 
 reported to be in such close relations that Freemasons 
 who joined the "Carbonic Republic" were spared the 
 formality of initiation; other parts of their ceremonial 
 they copied from the New Testament, with such additions 
 as the sj^ecial objects of the order called for. To many 
 persons who do not understand the power which symbols 
 and arbitrary ceremonials exert over nine tenths of man- 
 kind, those of the Charcoal-makers may seem puerile, 
 but to the Charcoal-makers they were solemn enough, 
 being the signs of life and death. The house where the 
 meeting was held was called the ^^haracca,'''' or hut, the 
 lodge itself was the " vendita,'''' or place of sale; members 
 saluted each other as '"'' Buoni Cvgini," or "Good Cous- 
 ins," and stigmatized the uninitiated as "pagans." God 
 was honored with the title of Grand Master of the Uni- 
 verse. Christ, an Honorary Grand Master, was known 
 as the Lamb, and every Good Cousin pledged himself to 
 rescue the Lamb from the jaws of the Wolf, — tyranny, 
 that is, — which had long persecuted him. St. Theobald 
 was the special patron of the society. There were com- 
 monly two degrees, that of the Apprentices and that of 
 the Masters, but there were sometimes others, — in Sicily 
 we hear of eleven, — lifted above the vulgar level and
 
 CONSPIRACIES. 199 
 
 adorned with interminable titles. Having been elected 
 by an unanimous vote, the candidate for apprenticeship 
 was conducted to the barrack by his Master, and left 
 awhile in the "closet of reflection," where, we may sup- 
 pose, excitement and suspense pitched his nerves on a 
 high key. Then he was brought, always bandaged, to 
 the door of the lodge, in which was a slide, whereby cer- 
 tain questions were put to him from within. Having 
 answered these satisfactorily, he was admitted into the 
 hall itself, where the Grand Master, seated before a huge 
 tree-trunk, thus addressed him ; " Profane one I the first 
 qualities we seek are sincerity of heart and a heroic 
 constan(^y in scorning perils. Have you these? " The 
 neo])hyte replied, "Yes," and was then dismissed to take 
 his "first journey." On liis return, he was asked what 
 he had observed; "Noises and obstacles," was his an- 
 swer, which the Grand Master expounded in this wise; 
 "This first journey is the emblem of human life; the 
 noise of the leaves and the obstacles indicate that, being 
 of frail flesh, as we swim in this vale of tears, we cannot 
 arrive at virtue unless we be guided by reason and 
 assisted by good works." After that the neophyte must 
 take a "second journey," in which he passed through a 
 fire and beheld a trunkless human head, — the former 
 symbolized charity, whicii purges the heart, the latter 
 was a warning of the doom of traitors. Having betm 
 brouglit back to the lodge, he was made to knei'l before 
 the Grand Master's block, and to repeat tlie following 
 oath, "I swear and ])romise on tht; institution of tliis 
 order in general, and on tliis steel (the axe which serve<l 
 the (irand Master as a gavel), the ])unisher of perjurers, 
 to keep scrupulously the secrets of the Caibonie Kej)ublic; 
 not to write, grave, nor ]>aint anything, without having 
 received wi-itten permission. I swear that 1 will succor 
 my fellowmen, and especially the (iood Cousins Carbon- 
 ari, in ease oi their needs, and in so far as inv means per-
 
 200 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 mit, and likewise not to attaint the honor of their fami- 
 lies. If I prove forsworn, I consent that my body be 
 hewn in pieces, then burnt, and my ashes scattered to the 
 winds, that my name be held in execration by all Good 
 Cousins on earth. And so God help me!" Then he 
 demanded light, and was unbandaged in the middle of 
 the room, where the members surrounded him, and bran- 
 dished axes. "These weapons," the Grand Master ex- 
 plained to him, " will serve to slay you if you perjure 
 yourself ; but they will fly to your aid if you prove faith- 
 ful." Then the badge, countersign, and grip were given, 
 and the meeting was concluded with regular business pro- 
 ceedings. ^ Sometimes the Apprentice was sworn in by 
 a single Carbonaro, or again, he was received by mem- 
 bers in masks so that he could not recognize them. He 
 must pass a year's probation, during which, though igno- 
 rant of the secrets of the Order, he was liable to be called 
 upon to show his obedience and courage before he was 
 advanced to the Master's degree. 
 
 The ordeal prescribed for this occasion was more awful, 
 to correspond to the greater responsibility imposed on 
 Masters Carbonari, and consisted of an imitation, — shall 
 we say a travesty? — of the Passion of Christ. The 
 lodge assembled "when the cock crew at the appearance 
 of the morning star." "Wlio is this rash Apprentice 
 who dares to disturb our sublime labors? " asked the Ter- 
 rible One; upon which the sponsors led the Apprentice 
 out to the "Garden of Olives," where he repeated Christ's 
 prayer. On their return, the Terrible One said, "The 
 man is thirsty," and an Expert reached him a cup. Then 
 he was bound, and led before other Experts who imper- 
 sonated Pontius Pilate, Caiphas, Herod, and the Captain 
 of the Centurions. "Art thou the son of God?" quoth 
 Herod. "Thou sayest it," the Apprentice replied. Tlien 
 
 ^ Nuovo Statuto organico della Carboneria delta R.XiUcana Occidentale, 
 1818.
 
 CONSPIRACIES. 201 
 
 the Good Cousins mocked him, and clamored for his 
 death. He was crowned with thorns, stripped, bound to 
 a column and given G,6GG stripes, — not, we infer, by 
 actual count, — and then he was stretched on the Cross. 
 But the multitude relented, and cried out that mercy be 
 shown to him. So his bandage was taken off and he stood 
 among his fellows, a Master Carbonaro.^ 
 
 The scheme of symbolism spun by the fantastic brains 
 of the Carbonari would have delighted the quibbling stu- 
 dents of the Zohar or the Kabbala. Thus when the neo- 
 phyte was asked, "Who is your father? " he was to raise 
 his eyes towards heaven ; when asked, " Who is your 
 mother?" he lowered them toward earth; and when asked 
 "Where are your brothers?" he looked round on the 
 members of the lodge. The Carbonaro colors were black, 
 red, and blue: black signified first charcoal, and then 
 faith; red was fire and charity; blue was smoke and 
 hope. The Grand Master's l)lock represented thesurfac(^ 
 of the earth; the tree from which it was cut reminded 
 the Carbonari of the lieavens which are spread impar- 
 tially over all persons ; its roots meant stability; its foli- 
 age suggested perpetual greenness, and that "as our pro- 
 genitors, having lost their innocence, covered their shame 
 with leaves, so we, amid the same universal depravity, 
 ought to hide our brother's faults, and particularly our 
 own." The linen sheet, in wliicli the Ap})rentice was 
 wrapped, tauglit tliat "just as the plant from whicli it 
 was made by toil and maceration had become wings, so 
 we sliould become ])ure and clean by continuous and iin- 
 weai'icd effoi't." Water purified. Salt kc])t from cor- 
 ru])tion. The crown of tliorns reminds us, says tlu' 
 Carbonaro eha])lain, "that wearing it on our head, we 
 must be motionless and cautious in order to avoid its 
 j)i'ieks; likewise wearing it on our wills we must not be 
 restive under the dominion of intcHeet and reason, l)ut 
 
 ' Islruzioni per Maistri ('urhniinri, roiiij/ildti' did li. C. (1. M. Lnnzi Ih'tti. 
 
 » A K T- *
 
 202 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 ever removed from vice, and attached to virtue only." 
 The cross, plainly enough the emblem of travail, perse- 
 cution, and death, "teaches us to persevere in our efforts 
 without fear, in imitation of Jesus Christ, who voluntarily 
 suffered death that he might lead us on so sublime a 
 road." The earth, which hides the body in oblivion, 
 typifies the secrecy in which the mysteries of the Order 
 must be hidden. The ladder was a sign that virtue can 
 be attained toilfuUy, step by step. The bundle of fag- 
 ots meant union: "it is also the material for the sub- 
 lime furnace of our works," continues the expositor, 
 "wherein, reunited by the same spirit, we love nuitually 
 to kindle our hearts with the fervid heat of charity, which 
 makes us perfect and renews us, like the fagots in the 
 fire, changing their quality into another ; thus our hearts 
 being kindled by the fragrance of our labors are sub- 
 limed in hope."^ 
 
 But we need delve no farther into the mystic imagin- 
 ings of the Charcoal-makers. The passion for symbols 
 and allegory soars to the sublime or sinks to the ridicu- 
 lous, as the poetry and creeds of the world and the pedan- 
 tries of theology show; but even symbols which to the 
 uninitiated seem commonplace or bizarre, may have vital 
 significance to believers. Your national flag, for in- 
 stance, what is it to the African savage but a strip of 
 party-colored cloth; but to your countrymen in battle it 
 means all that is dearer than life. And so that mummery 
 and crude symbolism of the Carbonari may have touched 
 their imagination and hallowed their resolves. 
 
 ]\Iore practical were the penalties whicli they decreed 
 for offenders. Treachery they punished by death, the 
 execution to be secret, whether the culprit were brought 
 to trial or not. Lighter offenses had lighter chastise- 
 ment. Suspension from the lodge for a given time, gen- 
 eral imprecation, burning in effigy, and the interdiction 
 
 1 Istruzioni per AiipTendenti Carbonari (Naples, 1820).
 
 CONSPIRACIES. 203 
 
 of fire, water, and all intercourse, were the usual punish- 
 ments in a rising scale of severity. It was naturally- 
 deemed more heinous to injure a Good Cousin than a 
 Pagan and there were curious discriminations in judging 
 the importance of crimes. Thus a Good Cousin might 
 be suspended from six months to a year for drimkenness, 
 or from six months to two years for gambling or adultery, 
 but the latter crime was more venial when the woman 
 happened to be a Pagan, and not the wife or daughter of 
 a Carbonaro.^ 
 
 The Carbonari flourished in the Kingdom of Naples, 
 but the ramifications of their order spread out into all 
 parts of Italy, and where there was no Charcoal-makers' 
 vendita there were sure to be other sects devoted to the 
 same cause. Like the literary societies of the previous 
 century, they delighted in grotesque or absurd titles, such 
 as the Unshirted, the Hermits, the White Pilgrims, the 
 Sleepers, the Adelphi, tlie Oi)pressed not Concpiered. 
 At llavenna there were the American Hunters, to which 
 Byron belonged; at Padua, the University stiidents had 
 a club called the Savages, and were accused of prefer- 
 ring blood as a beverage; in Romagna, there were the 
 Sons of Mars, all soldiers past or present; at Modena, 
 the Spilla Nera Society plotted in belialf of the Bona- 
 partists; at Leghorn, the Bucatori were popularly be- 
 lieved to commit at least one murder a day ; the Decisi, 
 wlio infested Calabria and the Alu-uzzi, had among their 
 officers a "registrar of the dead" and a ''director of fu- 
 nerals," and they used blood as well as ink on their diplo- 
 mas. Even the women caught tlie general infection : at 
 Naples we hear of a society of "(iardeneresses *" in whose 
 ritual flower-])ots and sprinklers rose to mystic signifi- 
 cance. Carbonai'isiu itscU" was carefully organized in 
 
 ^ Carbanari sinus (W('iin;ir. l>iL''_'), ii (JiTin.'iii Iniiislatiou by H. I)cifiiiij^ 
 of a book ]>ublishc(l in LoikKhi in IS-JI, ciititlt'd Mi iiicirs <</' t/u S(<r<t Su- 
 ciitics (if till' South of Italy, jiarticuhirli/ tlir ('arhuiuiri.
 
 204 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 France, where, before long, Lafayette, Louis Philippe, 
 and other prominent politicians were known to be Good 
 Cousins. Of the Hetairia, a league formed with the in- 
 tent of freeing Greece from the Turks, and having a 
 branch at Milan, or of the plotters in Germany, we need 
 not speak. Whoever has visited the slumbering crater 
 of Solfatara near Naples will remember how he was fii'st 
 impressed by the supernal stillness and desolation: the 
 whitish sandy surface of the crater seemed to be strewn 
 with human ashes; but if he scraped a little hole in the 
 sand he found the earth beneath too hot to touch; and if 
 he but put his ear to the ground, he heard portentous 
 rumblings ; and now and then he saw jets of sulphurous 
 steam puff and rise from crannies along the margin of 
 the crater. After 1815, Italy was a political Solfatara 
 
 — outwardly a dry, dead crust, but inwardly molten with 
 suppressed passions and seething with pent-up desires. 
 
 Metternich and his pupils in government were not 
 ignorant of their danger, but their maxim was, "Keep 
 the surface quiet," and their wisdom lay in closing all 
 the safety-valves. They saw no more in these symjitoms 
 of popular discontent with tyranny than the purpose of 
 a minority of bad men to overthrow the legitimate order 
 and to profit by the anarchy that must ensue. So Leo 
 the Tenth saw only a "monkish squabble " in Luther's 
 protest. Metternich himseK, and those who like him 
 imagined that they took a philosophic view of history, 
 held the theory that the European bod}^ politic had re- 
 cently been suffering from a virulent disease, Jacobinism, 
 
 — a sort of political black measles, — which had been 
 most fatal in France, and which was now wearing itself 
 out under a milder form in Italy. As State physicians 
 it was their duty to administer opiates, or even to clap 
 the patient in a strait- jacket, until the delirium should 
 be quelled. But we can see that those old practitioners 
 were woefully mistaken. What they thought poison in
 
 CONSPIRACIES. 205 
 
 the blood, was the fever of rejuvenescence ; the spirit of 
 Liberty, denied utterance and activity in the open, was 
 secretly quickeninj^ the hearts of conspirators. God 
 works not by whims and spurts but slowly, lawfully, 
 without stay or afterthought: when He discerns that a 
 species or a system has fulfilled its mission. He does not 
 at once blot it out, He does not annihilate it, but He 
 replaces it by another, and the process of substitution is 
 gradual. He is the Great Joiner, who wastes no mate- 
 rial, but fashions the new out of the old. Since Crea- 
 tion's dawn He has needed to make not a single atom; 
 what then was, has sufficed for the infinite variety of His 
 handiwork. When creeds or politics, having served their 
 time, become materialized and obstructive, fearful of the 
 Present and wholly relying on the Past, He discloses to 
 a few souls the better Ideal which is to conquer and 
 transform the world. And as if to teach us His onmipo- 
 tenct^, He intrusts His message not to the world's elite ^ 
 but often to menial and despised agents. As out of the 
 catacombs of old Rome there issued a new spirit, so out 
 of the burrows wlicre the Carbonari plotted, tlie Ideal of 
 Freedom was to issue and to pervade Italy, — an Ideal 
 not soon to be realized, owing to tlii; perverseness and 
 frailty and blunders of those to whom it was revealed, 
 and to the huge bulk of that other Ideal, of the Old 
 Kegime which it must slowly dissolve. 
 
 The safety of th(; clul)s of eouspirators depended u]>on 
 secrecy, and we have seen by what tei-rilde threats they 
 sought to deter iuformiirs; but it was inevitable that tlie 
 existence of an organization wliicli had off-slioots in eveiy 
 district, and wliose membersliip soon lunnbered a quarter 
 of a million, should l)e known to the ever anxious, ever 
 watchful myrmidons of tvranny. ('arl)onarism, as any 
 on(! could se(>, set nj) a State within tlie State, a tentative 
 Ke})ul)lic amid an Autocracy, and it i)roposc(l to abolisli 
 autocracv altogether. NO Lrovernnicnt, however feeble
 
 206 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCK. 
 
 or incompetent it may be, can tolerate such an enemy, 
 which aims at its destruction. The Bourbons at Naples 
 had a strong instinct of self-preservation and a strong 
 love of power, both of which warned them that strenuous 
 measures were needed. But how to seize the skulking 
 Briarean monster? Hercules slew Hydra, but the many- 
 headed Carbonaria was invisible. Nevertheless, Prince 
 Canosa, the Neapolitan Director of Police, was not 
 daunted. He set his spies and detectives on the track 
 of the conspirators ; with money in hand he waited to buy 
 the revelations of traitors; he commanded his agents to 
 join the Order that they might not only learn the secrets 
 of the Good Cousins but also instigate discord among 
 them. He knew the efficacy of fighting fire with fire, 
 and so he organized a rival secret society to serve as a 
 counterpoise to Carbonaro influence. The Calderari or 
 Tinkers were his proteges, who had their mystic cauldron 
 and fire, their ritual and buffoonery, and who were 
 pledged to support the Bourbons. Thus when rats infest 
 your house you send a ferret through the wainscoting to 
 drive them out; but the Bourbon ferrets had dull teeth 
 and little pluck, and the Charcoal-makers throve in spite 
 of the Tinkers, and in spite of the eaves-dropping police. 
 Canosa himself was scarcely surprised that his cun- 
 ning measures could only keep the surface calm, without 
 checking the ferment beneath, for he looked deeper than 
 did many of his colleagues, and he was wdse in Machia- 
 vellian wisdom. Divide et impera^ w^as his warning to 
 the "Kings of the Earth:" "You have forgotten this 
 maxim, carved on the foundations of thrones ; you would 
 have ruled the world with a single rein, and this has 
 broken in your hands. Divide et impera. Divide 
 people from ])eople, province from province, city from 
 city, leaving to each its interests, its statutes, its privi- 
 leges, its rights and liberties. Let the citizens persuade 
 themselves that they are of some account at home, — ■
 
 CONSPIRACIES. 207 
 
 allow the people to amuse themselves with the innocent 
 playthings of municipal wire-pullings, ambitions and 
 contests, — cause public spirit to revive by the emanci- 
 pation of the connnunes, — and the phantom of national 
 spirit will no longer be the maddening demon of all 
 minds." Here, indeed, Canosa put his finger on that 
 policy of centralization which Napoleon had adopted, 
 and which the restored despots had retained in the belief 
 that it would strengthen their power ; but the wily Prince 
 saw that they were throwing away the substance for the 
 shadow. "Another chief cause of the overturn of the 
 world is," he continued, "the too great diffusion of let- 
 ters and of that itch for literature that has penetrated 
 even the bones of fishmongers and hostlers. In the world 
 are needed not so much learned and literary men as cob- 
 blers, tailors, smiths, agriculturalists, and ai-tisans of all 
 kinds, and there is needed a great mass of well-behaved 
 and docile people who content themselves to live on the 
 faith of others, and who let the world be guided by the 
 light of others, without pretending to guide it b}' their 
 own. For all such people literature is harmful, becaus(! 
 it stirs u]) those intellects which Nature has destined to 
 work in a restricted sphere; it promotes doubts which 
 the mediocrity of its enlightenment is insufficient to solve ; 
 it incites to spiritual pleasiu'cs which make insupi>ort;ib]e 
 the monotonous and tedious toil of the body; it awakens 
 desires disproportionate to the luimbleness of their condi- 
 tion; and by rendering the people diseontcnted with their 
 lot, it disposes tliem to try to jtnrsue a diffei-ent lot. 
 Wlierefore, instead of unineasuredly favoring instruction 
 and civilization, you ought ]>ru(lently to set sonic limit to 
 tliem; and to consider that if there existed a master wlio 
 in a single lesson could make them all as Icariu'd as Aris- 
 totle, and as polished as the major-donio of the King of 
 Fi'ancc, it woidd be ncccssai-y to kill that niastci- iiiiiiu'- 
 diately, in oriler not to sec society dcstroyid. Leave
 
 208 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 books and studies to the distinguished classes, and to 
 some extraordinary genius who makes a road for himself 
 through the obscurity of his grade, but cause the slioe- 
 maker to be contented with his awl, the rustic with his 
 mattock, without going to spoil his heart and mind in the 
 primary school."^ 
 
 I have quoted this passage because it proves that some 
 at least of the supporters of the Old Regime divined the 
 depth at which the new spirit they dreaded was working, 
 and that they dared with brutal frankness to prescribe a 
 brutal remedy. To encourage ignorance would seem to 
 be an easy task for a minister, since ignorance, like a 
 fissiparous parasite, propagates itself by rapid subdivi- 
 sions, each of which is in turn the parent of new swarms. 
 No advocate of enlightenment could have accused a Bour- 
 bon ruler of being its patron, nor could the oldest inhab- 
 itant remember any master who went about making the 
 peasants as wise as Aristotle and as elegant as the 
 French king's major-domo. By intrusting education to 
 priests and Jesuits, and by gagging the press, the princes 
 of Italy followed part of Canosa's advice: but they were 
 too dull or too rapacious to heed the rest and give up those 
 centralizing measures which by allaying local jealousies 
 fostered discontent and made men all the more ready to 
 hearken to the "demon " of patriotism. 
 
 The order of the Carbonari grew, notwithstanding 
 Canosa's vigilance, and shed what light it could through 
 the darkened windows of its lodges. It attracted whoso- 
 ever desired his country's emancipation and believed that 
 jslotting would lead to that goal. At its vendite men met 
 as peers who were separated by class barriers in the world 
 outside. They had a common purpose, a common judi- 
 ciary, and they were bound together by the sense of a 
 common danger. But what they lacked — and the defect 
 
 ^ Canosa : Esperienza ai lie Jdla 7V rrti, quoted by Cant.ii : Cronistoria, 
 ii, 13('), note 11.
 
 CONSPIRACIES. 209 
 
 was vital — was a resolute and prudent head. No great 
 movement has ever triumphed which has been guided only 
 by a committee : men must see their cause personified in 
 one leader, round whom they can rally and for whom, if 
 need be, they can die. Abstractions must be made flesh 
 before men will fight for them. But the Carbonari and 
 the other Italian conspirators had no commander-in-chief. 
 The rank and file were expected to obey unreservedly 
 whatever orders came to them from above. Often they 
 did not know the names of their leaders, who shrouded 
 themselves in mystery. Sometimes it was hinted that 
 certain very distinguished personages were at the helm, 
 but that they would reveal themselves only after the con- 
 spiracy should succeed. 
 
 While the sect was thus governed by an anonymous 
 corporation, it was also the prey of local differences. 
 Lodge vied with lodge in audacious proj)osals, and in 
 each lodge the most daring or the most vehement Good 
 Cousins naturally acquired the greatest influence. If the 
 })rudent demurred, they might be written down in the 
 Black Book as cowards or traitors. If the Salernitans 
 deemed the moment ripe for a revolt, the Neapolitans 
 miglit insist on a delay. We wonder how, in that flux of 
 plot and counterplot, any trust or sincerity remained in 
 men; for the conspirators were not only aware that tliey 
 were spied upon by the police, but they were also vexed 
 by doubts and jealousies among tlu'insclves. Brother 
 could not be sure of brother, nor father of son. Judge 
 distrusted judge of es])ial, friend distrusted friend. Even 
 from liis wife a man was not safe : his confidences miglit 
 be frightened from lier at tlie confessional and ])ass u]) 
 from the bishop to the director of ])<)liee. The strongest 
 oaths seemed weak, the most teT'ril)le threats seemed mild 
 to conspirators who knew that their lives hung on the 
 lionor of their associates. 
 
 Many of these defects were inse})arable from any wide-
 
 210 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 spread political conspiracy; others were traceable to that 
 heirloom of local feuds peculiar to the Italians; while 
 others arose from inexperience in self-control and from 
 an imperfect estimate of the amount of education that 
 would be necessary to fit the great mass of the Italian 
 people to govern themselves. The political dusk swarmed 
 with the glittering maxims of the French Revolution about 
 the "rights of man," "liberty," "equality," and "fra- 
 ternity," as a June night swarms with fireflies: and it was 
 still the fashion to believe that a race could be regener- 
 ated by manifesto and voted into independence by a show 
 of hands. But there were Italians of Liberal cast who 
 held aloof from the sects, either because they preferred 
 to sail by the Pole-star rather than by fireflies, — and 
 the Pole-star was still wrapt in clouds ; or because they 
 scrupled to become accomplices in violent deeds which 
 they felt could not advance the patriotic cause. This 
 sense of futility or dread of criminality withheld many ; 
 others, made languid by the turmoil of the past twenty- 
 five years, craved repose. They would have chosen lib- 
 erty, but they were too dispirited, or too weary, to fight 
 for it. "And what, after all, has fighting profited us?" 
 they asked. "Torment us no worse with bright but un- 
 realizable dreams. We can at least end our days unmo- 
 lested if we do not meddle with the forbidden topics." 
 Against this inertia of fatalism also, the conspirators had 
 to contend. 
 
 Whilst they were making proselytes in large numbers 
 and revolving terrific plans, Metternich was cautiously 
 dredging for information. Not content with the news 
 supplied him by the local ministers of police, he sent his 
 own agents into Italy. They reported that the dissatis- 
 faction was due partly to natural causes, — a failure of 
 cro])s in 1816 having been followed by an epidemic of 
 typhus fever, — and partly "to the results of the conquest, 
 which by overthrowing political order had shattei-ed the
 
 CONSFIKACIES. 211 
 
 foundations of the public welfare."^ The Chancellor 
 himself made a triumphal journey through the Peninsula 
 in 1817, where he divided his time between courtly enter- 
 tainments and secret investigations, and was able to assure 
 his Emperor that, although the existence of the sects could 
 not be denied, and although their i)urpose conflicted with 
 Austrian principles, yet they had failed "to eiilist leaders 
 of name and character," and lacked "central guidance 
 and all other means of organizing revolutionary action." 
 " In design and principle divided among themselves, these 
 sects change every day," he added, "and on the morrow 
 they may be ready to fight against one another. The 
 surest method of preventing anyone of them from becom- 
 ing too powerful is to leave these sects to themselves. 
 Yet we must not look with indifference on such a mass of 
 individuals, who, more or less adversaries of the existing 
 order of things, may easily be led to disturb the i)ublic 
 ])eace, especially if it is ever united by the alluring pre- 
 text of Italian independence. England has for the mo- 
 ment relinquished these chimeras, and since she gave her 
 consent to the union of Genoa with Piedmont, and the 
 withdrawal of the Btmtinck Constitution in Sicily, she 
 has almost entirely lost tlie confidence of the Indepen- 
 dents." ^ Nevertheless, Metternich thouglit he discerned 
 signs of foreign connivance in the activity of the ])l(>tters. 
 He suspected tluit Russian emissaries were fanning dis- 
 content against Austria, and were encouraging Ijibcral 
 dreams, in the h()[)e that Russia niiglit secure, were the 
 revolution successful, one of the Italian ports for her 
 navy. But whatever ho, suspected, Metternich was not 
 alarmed ; he l)elieved that neither fiom within nor from 
 without could any f()rce tliere be massed strong enough 
 to endanger Austria's ])ositiou in Italy: and with a con- 
 fident and self-satislied heart he went to direct tlic family 
 gathering of the Europt'an mouarchs at Aix-la-Chapi'llc. 
 
 ' MftU'i-iiu-li, iii, S'.t. - lliitl. iii, '.tit.
 
 212 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 The best justification of Metternicli's confidence was 
 furnished by the conspirators themselves. That they 
 were very numerous, that they were "men of action," 
 every one knew ; but what had they accomplished between 
 1815 and 1820? Nothing that the eye could estimate. 
 Sporadic assassinations and incendiary fires were imputed 
 to them, but not an exploit indicative either of courage or 
 of foresight. An occasional street-brawl, hardly worthy 
 to be called a political demonstration, served to show the 
 weakness of the plotters and the rigor of the police. 
 
 There was a little affair at Macerata, for instance, over 
 which the Papal authorities might well chuckle. It was 
 the spring of 1817. The aged Pope lay very ill, not ex- 
 pected to recover. The Carbonari believed that in the 
 confusion at his death they would find their opportmiity. 
 They agreed upon a general revolt, took every precaution, 
 and laid their mines in all directions. The outbreak was 
 to begin at Macerata; Bologna, always a restless city, 
 was ready to respond. So carefully had every detail 
 been arranged that four buckets of pitch had been carried 
 by stealth into the belfry of the Macerata cathedral to be 
 lighted at the appointed time as a signal to watchers on 
 the hills that the revolt prospered; and these watchers 
 were to flash the news, by beacons and rockets, over all 
 the land. A free government was to be set up, with 
 Count Gallo, the chief conspirator, as consul. Other 
 offices had been allotted to his accomplices, and — mark 
 the minuteness of the preparation — it was agreed that 
 as soon as the revolutionists had Macerata in their power, 
 they should assemble in the cathedral for a ceremony of 
 thanksgiving at which St. Ambrose's Hymn was to be 
 sung. The roster of two regiments, one of cavalry and 
 one of infantry, was made out, the pay of each soldier 
 being fixed at five pauls a day. A proclamation, not 
 lacking exhortatory eloquence, was printed. "People 
 of the Pontifical States:" it began, "When it is God's
 
 CONSPIRACIES. 213 
 
 will to punish a people, He gives them over to an igno- 
 rant government. When He sees them aware of their 
 error, He pours courage into them, and bids them to 
 shake off the barbarous yoke. . . . To arms! to arms. 
 Let your war-cry be love of country and charity towards 
 your children. To overthrow tyrants, to tax the rich, and 
 to rush to the assistance of the needy, — be that your 
 aim. Already is History busy preparing a place for you 
 among her heroes." Thus was every spring set: but the 
 Pope would not die, and the conspirators, becoming im- 
 patient, resolved to strike at all hazards. On the night 
 of June 24, just as they were collecting for action, a 
 squad of carabineers happened to bear down upon them. 
 Believing that they were betrayed, they scampered hither 
 and thither for their lives. The watchers on the hilltops 
 saw no beacon, till the great torch of day rose again out 
 of the Adriatic and announced that the plot had failed. 
 The Hymn of St. Ambrose was not sung that morn- 
 ing in the minster, but four suspicious buckets of i)itcli 
 were found in the belfry. Count (rallo and seven of his 
 principal confederates made good their escape. A few 
 accessories were arrested and sentenced, after a tedious 
 trial, to the galleys ; the ringleaders were condennied to 
 death in contumacy. From the witnesses examined, the 
 judge learned that the rebellious sects were all scions of 
 Freemasonry and tliat their ])urpose was to secure "in- 
 de])endence, or at least a constitutional government! " ^ 
 
 This revolt at Macerata, so ignominiously stiHed. is a 
 specimen of all the ineffectual spluttcrings of c()nsj)iracy 
 iliu-ing those five years. There were arrests at a ball at 
 Kovigo, arrests aftei' a fcvcrisli si)asm at Rimini ; the 
 c()ns])irators at Kavenna conccrtt'd a rising with Konia- 
 gnolcs, l)ut at the last nioiiu'iit the Koiuagnolcs wavered. 
 In tlie Nea])()litan pi-ovinees an exj)losion seemed always 
 inuuinent, but the fuse always smouldered and went out. 
 
 ' CdrlioiHirisinus. 11, l^W ,s< '/. ,• I'u^^;,'!, i, l."iT-S.
 
 214 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Oftentimes we cannot distinguish between the Neapolitan 
 conspirators and brigands. Those ferocious Decisi, for 
 example, who sent death-warrants underscored with 
 blood to their proposed victims, had not patriotism but 
 plunder in view, if we are to believe their enemies. They 
 ravaged the provinces of Bari and Otranto until put 
 down by General Church, who executed above a hun- 
 dred of them and stuck their heads on the gates of the 
 towns they had despoiled.^ The conspirators grew more 
 wary, the police more alert. Ferdinand issued a proc- 
 lamation prohibiting all secret sects, and threatening 
 their chiefs with death. ^ The Pope launched a bull of 
 similar import, in which he especially charged the Carbo- 
 nari with irreligion, on account of their assertion of free- 
 dom of conscience in matters of belief ; but the Carbonari 
 treated this fulmination as they had treated an earlier 
 one in 1814, when they asked: "AVas not the Christian 
 Church from its origin until Constantino's victory over 
 Maxentius a secret society?" They waxed numerous in 
 spite of failures and repression, so that by 1820 their 
 membership was reckoned at nearly three quarters of a 
 million.^ If their achievements were indeed trivial, it 
 must be remembered that they had to contend against the 
 inevitable defects of their organism, not less than against 
 their outward foes. They hesitated and postponed ; they 
 began to wait on Chance, — the death of king or pope, 
 the embarrassment of a cabinet, the sudden exasperation 
 of the populace, or the prospect of a foreign war, — be- 
 fore firing their train. But they did not abandon their de- 
 termination ; on the contrary, time and delays only rooted 
 it deeper in their hearts. Five years had almost elapsed 
 since the restoration of the Old Regime, when sparks 
 blown over sea from Spain dropped among the powder- 
 kegs of Italy, and set off the long-expected revolution. 
 
 ^ Carhonarismus, 120. - Aug. 8, ISIG; text in Turotti, i, 46-4-C. 
 
 ^ In 1818 the minor sects — Decisi, Filantropi, and Filadelfi — were said 
 to number 20,000 members.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 NAPLES IN REVOLUTION, 1820. 
 
 We are wrapt about with an aether more wonderful 
 than the atmosphere in whose depths we live; a spiritual 
 aether which communicates messages from times and places 
 most remote, and makes of the world a whispering gal- 
 lery; which has its trade-winds and its tornadoes, its 
 lightnings and its auroral calms. No cry of distress 
 breathed upon this subtler element is lost, but it circles 
 earth till it finds a listener ; deeds good or evil are sown 
 in it, and are borne like pollen up and down the fallow 
 field of years, till at last they fructify and bring forth 
 harvests of wheat or tares, each after its kind. This 
 aether it is which binds men and nations together in a 
 solidarity, invisible and subtle, but broad as earth and 
 durable as time. 
 
 But for this mysterious transmitter it would concern 
 us but little to know that in the year 1819 the r/uacfios of 
 the River Plata were struggling to free themselves from 
 Spain, and that the Spanish government had collected 
 troops to shi]) to the insurgent colony. But on New 
 Year's Day, 1820, Ra])hael Riego, who commanded a bat- 
 talion in the vilLige of Las Cabezas de San Juan, having 
 revolved in his mind tlie injustice of h('lj)ing an Absohitist 
 kiny: to crush Americans stniir<j:lin<r for freedom, and hav- 
 ing listened to the voice of his own ]iatriotism, drew n\) liis 
 troops, and proclaiiiicd to tlicni the Spanish Constitution 
 of 1812. In an instant enthusiasm sei/A'd the soldiers; 
 there was no more talk of (Mnbarking, for the battalion, 
 which others soon joined, pressed on to eajtture Cadiz.
 
 216 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 The news of the mutiny spread from province to prov- 
 ince, gaining volume, as it flew: when it reached Ma- 
 drid, the cowardly and treacherous King, bent only on 
 saving his throne, granted the Constitution. Europe was 
 surprised at the suddenness and success of the revolt. 
 The Absolute monarchs and the oligarchy of ministers 
 who then farmed the Continent for their personal benefit 
 were frightened; for the preservation of their tyranny 
 depended on the fidelity of the army, and here was an 
 army which had been the first to rebel, and which had 
 forced its sovereign to yield. Where might not another 
 Riego spring up? What troops could be trusted? 
 
 To the people of Europe these tidings brought hopes 
 as great as the alarm of their rulers. To the Neapolitans 
 it seemed that the hour of their redemption had struck. 
 Their King, as Infanta of Spain, must swear to the Con- 
 stitution adopted in Spain; having sworn, how could he 
 object to the promulgation of the same Constitution in his 
 own dominions? The hour had indeed struck, but the 
 man was wanting; Liberals and Carbonari discussed a 
 thousand plans, as if out of the Babel of sound a strong 
 sane deed would emerge. The government, aware of the 
 growing agitation, but not yet terrified, proposed a few 
 mild reforms by way of sedative. The membership of 
 the Chancellory was to be increased to sixty, thirty to be 
 elected by provincial councils, and thirty to be appointed 
 by the King : they to pass votes on legislative matters, 
 and to hold public sessions. It happened, also, that about 
 this time the King held a review of the army in the 
 plain of Sessa, — he was preparing, it was said, to join 
 Austria in seizing the Legations and the Marches on the 
 death of the Pope,^ — and the agitators looked to this as 
 a fitting occasion for a military mutiny. But the review 
 passed off undisturbed, although it afforded the Carbo- 
 nari the best opportunity to make converts and to circu- 
 1 Colletta, ii, 324.
 
 NAPLES IN REVOLUTION. 217 
 
 late their doctrines from regiment to regiment. The 
 camp broke up about the middle of May, and almost im- 
 mediately the revolutionary symptoms became acute in 
 the province of Avellino, where the regular troops were 
 commanded by General William Pepe, and where many 
 Carbonari from Salerno and other districts had assem- 
 bled. Pepe was a Liberal and a Carbonaro, but he hesi- 
 tated to proclaim himself. So an humbler hand fired the 
 train. 
 
 There was stationed at Nola the Bourbon regiment of 
 cavalry, lax in discipline, owing to the neglect of its 
 colonel, who passed liis time in dissipation at Naples. 
 On June 20 he was superseded by a commander of 
 sterner type, who forbade his subordinates to quit the 
 barracks after nightfall. The officers grumbled, and 
 talked over their grievance with some Carbonari of the 
 town, among others with one Menichini, a priest. lie 
 advised them to gather the malecontents of the regiment, 
 to proclaim the Constitution, and to march to Avellino, 
 where the sectaries would welcome them. His advice 
 hit true. At daybreak on the 2d of July two sub-lieu- 
 tenants, Morelli and Silvati, with 127 mutineers, inclu- 
 ding soldiers and subalterns, deserted from their (piarters 
 and took the road eastward. On they went, shouting, 
 "For God, the King, and the Constitution," on the still 
 morning air, as thoughtless and jubilant as boys broken 
 loose from school. They wakened tlie villages as they 
 ])assed, and })easants just going afield and towns[)eople 
 half -dressed thronged after them and shouted, '"For (rod, 
 tiie King, and the Constitution.'' At Mereogliano, about 
 a league from Avellino, ^lorelli lialted and disj)atehed a 
 note to Colonel Do Coneili, who conunanded the regular 
 troops in Pepes absence. \\ oidd he join the })atriotie 
 cause, and frei; his country / De Concilis heart was with 
 the revolutionists, but he was i-<'strained by prudence; he 
 nnist wait for Pepe's orders befoi'c giving his (h'cision.
 
 218 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Meanwhile, news of the mutiny had startled Naples. 
 The King was out in the bay on his royal barge, and 
 when a messenger reached him, his first impulse was to 
 put to sea and stay there till the trouble should be 
 quelled ; ^ but on second thoughts he decided to return to 
 the palace. Before he came the ministers met to concert 
 instant measures. General Nugent in a council of war 
 proposed to send Pepe to pacify the insurgent province. 
 Pepe accepted the commission, but he had not had time 
 to set out from the capital before his orders were coun- 
 termanded: the King and his councilors suspected his 
 loyalty and disliked him for having been a Muratist. 
 Finally, they gave the charge to General Carrascosa. 
 Through these delays a day was lost during which the 
 insurrection swept on. By nightfall not only the prov- 
 ince of Principato Ultra, but parts of Principato Citra 
 and Capitanata were in commotion, and De Concili, no 
 longer doubtful, cast in his lot with the revolters. Amid 
 acclamations and brotherly greetings, Morelli with his 
 band of original mutineers entered Avellino, and in the 
 cathedral, with the blessing of the bishop and the huzzas 
 of the multitude, he resigned his authority into the hands 
 of De Concili. The stars that night looked upon sleep- 
 less villages and noisy towns ; black, red, and blue ban- 
 ners were unfurled, tricolored ribbons and cockades were 
 hastily sewn on coats and hats, there were many ha- 
 rangues, many huzzas for God, King, and Constitution, 
 but no serious disorder, no bloodshed. 
 
 Fate pays the suspicious and deceitful in their own 
 coin. Ferdinand, whose whole life had been perfidious, 
 was now in his desperate need perplexed in whom to 
 confide. He no longer could distinguish between loyalty 
 and deceit. His ministers had hidden from him the 
 dangerous condition of the kingdom; now that he knew 
 the truth, how could he trust them? What general could 
 1 Colletta, ii, 329.
 
 NAPLES IN REV(5lUTION. 219 
 
 he believe in? Nevertheless, something must be done, 
 and done at once. On July 3 Carrascosa appeared in 
 Nola only to find there too few troops to justify him in 
 attacking the insurgents, who had taken up a strong 
 position at Monteforte, near Avellino. In lieu of fight- 
 ing, he proposed to buy off the leaders of the revolt, 
 offering to give them, besides a large sum in cash, a safe 
 conduct out of the kingdom, — truly, a Bourbon expedi- 
 ent. But he could get no one to conduct the negotia- 
 tion. So he lay idle in Nola, waiting for reinforcements, 
 whilst the enemy's camp was being hourly swelled. Yet 
 within easy marching distance were General Nunziante 
 at Nocera and General Campana at Salerno. Why did 
 not the three unite their forces, and strike the rebels 
 while there was still time? Because the King would not 
 give the order; he feared that if they united they would 
 desert. On the 4th Campana marched towards Avellino, 
 met a body of insurgents midway, indidged in an incon- 
 clusive skirmish, and then retreated. On the 5th Nun- 
 ziante, likewise unsupported, set out; but t)efore ever 
 they came in sight of tlie enemy, his soldiers deserted in 
 such numbers that he returned hastily to Nocera with the 
 few that remained loyal. That evening he dispatched a 
 note to the King; "Sire, your peoide desire the Consti- 
 tution ; opposition is vain. I entreat your majesty to 
 yield." 
 
 This a])peal but confirmed the fears which tlu' re])()rts 
 of tlie last few days had heaped upon Fenlinaud and his 
 ministers. At Foggia a regiment liad mutinied; Apu- 
 lia and Molise had risen; Terra di Lavoro was seething. 
 It was too soon for coui'iers to arrive from the i-emoter 
 Al)ruz/i and Calabria, but there coidd be no doul)t that 
 those ])rovinc('s also wci'c up in arms. This vci'V night 
 (July T)) P('i)c, fearful of ancst, liad rid(k'n out of 
 Na])h's, followed bv a regiment of cavalry and several 
 eonipanies of infanti'V, all bound for Monteforte. If the
 
 220 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 King, cherished any delusions as to the situation, they 
 were soon dispelled. Five Carbonari pressed into the 
 palace, declaring that they came as ambassadors from 
 the people to speak with the King. The Duke of Ascoli 
 heard their business, went to Ferdinand's apartment, 
 and quickly brought back this reply: "His Majesty, 
 having learned the wishes of his subjects, and having 
 already decided to grant a constitution, is now consulting 
 with his ministers upon its just limits." "When will it 
 be published?" asked one of the delegates. "In two 
 hours," replied the Duke. The delegate pulled the 
 Duke's watch from his pocket. "It is now one o'clock," 
 he said insolently; "at three the Constitution must be 
 published." Then the interview ended. ^ 
 
 By daybreak (July 6) the following edict was issued 
 by Ferdinand: "The general desire of the Kingdom of 
 the Two Sicilies being manifested in favor of a constitu- 
 tional government, of our own free will we consent, and 
 we promise to publish the bases thereof within eight days. 
 Until the publication of the Constitution the existing 
 laws will be in force. Having thus satisfied the public 
 desire, we order the troops to return to their corps, and 
 every other subject to his ordinary occupations."^ 
 
 Whilst the Neapolitans that morning gave themselves 
 up to jubilation, messengers were hurrying eastward with 
 copies of the edict for the rival camps commanded by Car- 
 rascosa and Pepe. The latter, on reaching Monteforte, 
 had himself drawn up a proclamation in which he ex- 
 horted the insurgents to persist in their revolt until they 
 secured a constitution for their country, and he promised 
 to resign his command as soon as that victory should be 
 won. The joyful tidings put a stop to impending hostil- 
 ities. Both armies fraternized, and congratulated each 
 other on a revolt equally dear to each, and when Carras- 
 cosa led his troops back to Naples that evening he found 
 
 1 Colletta, ii, 336. ^ Turotti, i, 587.
 
 NAPLES IN REVOLUTION. 221 
 
 the streets illuminated and festooned, and the popidace 
 singing patriotic hyinns and shouting patriotic watch- 
 words. Thus in four days had the Neapolitan people, so 
 excitable, so little acquainted with self-control or public 
 law, achieved a bloodless revolution. A wiser people 
 would have been distrustful of the ease and suddenness of 
 their success, but the Neapolitans, unversed in the diffi- 
 culties of self-government and unaware that the best con- 
 stitution is but printer's ink and paper unless a nation is 
 fitted to abide by it, supposed that they had passed their 
 ordeal, and could count upon a future of endless felicity. 
 Prince People having wedded Princess Constitution, of 
 course they would live happily ever after — as all fairy 
 tales announce. 
 
 The King on that same day (July G), as a handsel of 
 his good intentions, appointed a new ministry, but he 
 also issued a suspicious decree in which he nominated his 
 son Francis, Duke of Calabria, regent with full power; 
 assigning as a reason his own infirmity, which he feared 
 might prevent him from performing his duties "in a 
 manner acceptable to God." At this the populace took 
 alarm. Bands of Carbonari went up and down the 
 streets shouting for the Spanish Constitution; others 
 guarded the ships in the harbor lest Ferdinand sliould 
 sneak away. The Regent, to allay suspicions, put forth 
 a decree (July 7), in which he pledged that the Spanish 
 Constitution, only amended in so far as the diiYcrciit 
 conditions of Si)ain and Naples might make emeiulation 
 necessary, should be granted; but the people were still 
 suspicious, because this decree was not signed by the 
 King. Then appeared a proeLunation from Ferdinand 
 himself, ratifying all his son's acts; and the ]>()pidar 
 murmurs evaporated in eheei-s. The ordinary business of 
 the capital was resumed, and, amid rejoicings and liope- 
 fulness, the ])ublieation of the Constitution was awaited. 
 
 Pepe in his camp at Monteforte now deemed the time
 
 222 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 ripe for a demonstration of the strength of the Constitu- 
 tionalists, who but last week had been ealled by harsher 
 names. He proposed that with all his forces he should 
 make a triumphal entry into Naples, as a sign of the 
 patriotic and peaceful intentions of the late insurgents, 
 and as evidence of the prevailing concord. King and 
 llegent demurred ; they loved their dear subjects, but at 
 a distance ; they feared some subterfuge ; the}-^ disliked to 
 see Pepe in the position of acknowledged leader of thou- 
 sands of armed men, who, at a wink from him, might 
 seize the reins of power. What if he should be overcome 
 by ambition, and play Cromwell's part? But, on the 
 other hand, how could he be kept out of the city, if in 
 spite of royal refusal he persisted in entering it? To 
 close the gates upon him would precipitate a civil war, in 
 which the King could rely upon neither his soldiers nor 
 his citizens. Discretion and fear argued that there was 
 less risk in consenting than in forbidding ; accordingly, 
 the 9th of July was fixed for the triumphal entry. Wild 
 rumors and gloomy apprehension flew about. It was said 
 that the lawless classes would seize this opportunity for 
 plunder, — that the Royalists Avere concocting a treacher- 
 ous scheme, — that the Carbonari would imprison the 
 royal family and proclaim the Kepublic. No suggestion 
 was too extravagant to gain credence at a time when all 
 classes were uncertain of themselves, and when many 
 feared the worst results. To inspire a little confidence, 
 a Junta of fifteen members, chosen in the camp and 
 approved by the Regent, was provisionally organized to 
 help in preserving order until the convocation of Parlia- 
 ment. 
 
 Amid this excitement the dreaded day broke. Into the 
 city the Constitutionalist forces poured, and long before 
 the head of the column marched into the square in front 
 of the palace, the Regent was warned of its approach by 
 the cheers of the crowds. Morelli and Silvati, with the
 
 NAPLES IN REVOLUTION. 223 
 
 original company of deserters (now glorified as "the Sa- 
 cred Squadron "), led the van; then on horseback between 
 Generals Napoletano and De Concili rode Pepe, his jaunty 
 elegance reminding some of the bystanders of his former 
 chief, Murat ; then followed regiments of regulars, a little 
 sheepish, despite the bravado with which they wished to 
 have their late mutiny forgotten. When the militia ap- 
 peared, the shouts grew louder and heartier. Finally a 
 promiscuous band of Carbonari brought up the rear; 
 Menichini, the priest, was at their head, his scholar's 
 face, wide-rimmed spectacles, and clerical garb, comport- 
 ing strangely with the Carbonaro flag he waved and with 
 the Carbonaro emblems which dangled against the cross 
 on his breast. But that day was a feast of paradoxes. 
 Did not the Kegent on the palace balcony, surrounded 
 by his minist(!rs and his Junta, i)in the Carbonaro ribbons 
 upon his coat, and applaud the Constitutionalists, as they 
 passed in review beneath him? And later in the day, 
 wh(^n tlie soldiers had retired to their quarters and the 
 throngs had dispersed to the tap-rooms and cafes, did he 
 not graciously receive Pepe and his generals ? 
 
 A strange audience that, in which Pepe, wlio but four 
 days since stood in danger of arrest, was thanked by the 
 Kegent for his patriotism, and was promoted to be com- 
 mander-in-chief of the army. Pepe explained that his 
 work had been not to foment tlie revolution but to lead 
 it along guiltless paths, and to prevent acts which miglit 
 harm bi^th the throne and the country. ^Mutual compli- 
 ments having been ])assc(l, the new hero was couchictcd 
 into the King's bed-chaml)er, where Ferdinand lay in 
 bed, — sick or sliamniing. Pepe knelt, and kissetl the 
 wriidded perfidious hand. ''You liave done good service 
 to me and the nation,' said the monarcli: "therefore, 1 
 •d()ul)ly thank you and yours. Assume supreme connuand 
 of the ai'Uiy to complete tliis enterprise of holv J>eaee, 
 wliirh will so honor the Neapolitans. 1 would have given
 
 224 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 the Constitution earlier, if the utility or the general desire 
 had been made known to me. I thank Almighty God 
 that He has granted to my old age to do a great good to 
 my realm." ^ Thus honored by the esteem of his sover- 
 eign, Pepe retired, the foremost subject in the kingdom. 
 But his elevation made him a target for envy. The older 
 generals, over whom he had been promoted, were piqued ; 
 Bourbonists muttered, as was their habit, against the ad- 
 vancement of an ex-Muratist; the more audacious con- 
 spirators, who had forced the crisis, were nettled to see 
 him made the hero who had hesitated to join them until 
 success was certain ; many predicted that he would hence- 
 forth be a partisan of the King rather than of the people. 
 These suspicions were for the most part unjust : if Pepe 
 nursed a secret ambition, he lacked the dauntlessness and 
 judgment to gratify it; his acts, so far as we know them, 
 were centred in the support of the Constitution. That 
 he was so soon stung by envious or calumnious tongues, 
 indicated the fatal fickleness and the disunion of the rev- 
 olutionary party. They paid allegiance to no single 
 leader, but to a hundred. Each clique had its pet scheme, 
 its loudest haranguer, and it suspected all the rest. The 
 irremediable defects in the Carbonaro organization — the 
 lack of a head and of a general definite policy — were 
 now manifest; and it would soon be proved that no secret 
 society can fit a people to maintain a popular government. 
 But the Neapolitans did not yet surmise whither back- 
 biting and dissension were leading them. They had not 
 yet recovered from their astonishment at the ease with 
 which they had won their first battle, and their very ebul- 
 litions seemed to them to prove their strength. On July 
 13 they believed that their victory was complete, for the 
 news came to them that the King had just ratified the 
 Constitution. In the royal chapel he heard mass, and« 
 then in the presence of his Court, the Junta, and the 
 1 Turotti, i, 601.
 
 NAPLES IN KEVOLUTION. 225 
 
 generals, he approached the altar, and laying his hand 
 on the Bible, he solemnly swore: "I, Ferdinand of Bour- 
 bon, by the grace of God and by the Constitution of the 
 Neapolitan monarchy, King of the Two Sicilies, with the 
 name of Ferdinand I, swear in the name of God and on 
 the Holy Evangelists that I will defend and preserve the 
 Constitution. Should I act contrary to my oath and con- 
 trary to any article in this Constitution, I ought not to be 
 obeyed ; and every act by which I contravened it would 
 be null and void. Thus doing, may God aid and protect 
 me, otherwise may He call me to account." Then, up- 
 lifting his eyes he uttered this brief prayer: "Omnipo- 
 tent God, who with Thine infinite gaze readest the soul 
 and the future, — if I lie or intend to break this oath, do 
 Thou at this instant hurl on my head the lightnings of 
 Thy vengeance." Again he kissed the Holy Book, and, 
 turning to Pepe, who stood near, he said meekly: ''Gen- 
 eral, believe me, this time I have sworn from the bottom 
 of my heart." ^ The Regent and his brother, the Prince 
 of Salerno, next took the oath, and were embraced and 
 blessed by their father, while tears of emotion ran down 
 their cheeks. The faculty of simulation, transmitted and 
 perfected through many generations, made these Bourbons 
 the best royal actors in the world. 
 
 Popular enthusiasm exulted over this impressive act. 
 All were willing to believe in the King's sincerit}', be- 
 cause all hoped that the King would be sincere; and even 
 those who had no reverence for the Bible thought it was 
 sacred enough to l)ind his oath. The Carlionari o])enly 
 enjoyed the ])restig«^ of having emancipated the nation. 
 Their guard in uniform })ai'aded the streets; their orators 
 thrilled eager crowds in the ])ublie s(juares. Evei-ybody 
 made liaste to enroll liiniself in an order so powerful and 
 so popular. Ev«'ry niessrooiu, every magistracy, every 
 convent, had its rend it a : nobles and beggars exchanged 
 
 1 I'o-LM, i. ■HVl-.l.
 
 226 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 the secret grip and mystic watchwords . And when the 
 Order asked permission, to celebrate its triumph, the 
 government dared not refuse. Priests with rosaries and 
 poniards at their belts and tricolor banners in their hands 
 led the procession ; and another priest blessed the con- 
 course when it assembled in church. In a time so unset- 
 tled there were of course evilly-disposed persons who tried 
 to mask their criminal plans under the shadow of the 
 Order; there were also sectaries who conspired to over- 
 throw the government and set up a republic; but the 
 designs of both fell short. A few sporadic cases of tur- 
 bulence were quickly checked in the provinces, while in 
 the capital even the lazzaroni, that large body of habit- 
 ual loafers and potential law-breakers, remained docile. 
 There was, indeed, much cackling from newly-hatched 
 journalists, but it is the silent swooping old birds and 
 not the unfledged that are to be feared. It seemed as if 
 the nation had sjiven bonds for jjood behavior until the 
 Parliament should convene on the first of October; and 
 credit is undoubtedly due to the Carbonari for the gener- 
 ally tranquil condition. It is a hostile critic, and not a 
 Carbonaro, who is forced to admit that through the exer- 
 tions of the Order "malefactors disappeared from the 
 country, and that the public service " received a great im- 
 pulsion "from the same source."^ 
 
 While the revolution was thus spreading without vio- 
 lence over the mainland, far different scenes were enact- 
 ing in Sicily. The islanders hated the Act of Union of 
 1816 ; they hated the stamp tax and the autocratic laws ; 
 they hated the presence of Neapolitan garrisons; they 
 hated to see Sicily the subject instead of the peer of 
 Naples. Each class, each province, had its grievance. 
 The old nobility, the barons, chafed at their loss of power; 
 Palermo resented being degraded to an equality with the 
 other six capitals of the vaU'i or districts into which the 
 
 ' Can-ascosa. quoted by Pepe ; Memorie (Paris, 1S4T), ii, 26.
 
 NAPLES IN REVOLUTION. 227 
 
 island had been divided. The aristocrats clamored for 
 the Constitution of 1812, which established an Upper 
 House; the populace, saturated with Carbonarism, pre- 
 ferred a democratic statute ; both parties agreed in desir- 
 ing Home Rule for Sicily. 
 
 It happened that two Sicilian nobles. Prince di Villa- 
 franca and Prince di Cassero, were in Naples when the 
 Spanish Constitution was granted. They immediately 
 protested that it would never satisfy the people beyond the 
 Faro. The King and his partisans secretly chuckled 
 at this portent of a quarrel in which they foresaw an 
 advantage for themselves. The Regent, in receiving the 
 protest, slyly remarked that he regretted that the Neapol- 
 itans had not chosen the Sicilian Constitution of 181:2. 
 
 Messina was the first town to hear of the revolution, 
 and the plebs, to whom the Spanish Constitution was 
 agreeable, seized control of the government there. The 
 news did not reach Palermo until July 14, when the l>op- 
 ulace were celebrating tlu^ Feast of Santa Rosalia. They 
 quickly turned to discuss the startling change. The more 
 prudent citizens were for sending a petition to the King 
 to grant Sicily lier former Constitution, when their delib- 
 erations werc^ broken in upon by the soldiery, wlio as 
 Neapolitans and Carbonari upheld the Spanish system, 
 and threatened to burn thc'honses of all who opposed it. 
 Tiie po])ulace, inveterately liostile to the up])er classes, 
 sided for tlie moment with th(^ soldiers. That iiiulit 
 Palci-nio was noisy with nudtitudes wearing the tricolor 
 cockade, to wliich tliey added the vellow ribbon of Sicily. 
 On tilt' morrow Naselli, Li('utenant-( ieiieral of tlie island, 
 issued a proclamation stating that the King had granted 
 a constitution. l)iit he left in doubt wlietliei" it was the 
 Sicilian or th<' Spanish. This susjx'usc licightcncd the 
 excitement, and that same evening sohliers and otbccrs in 
 large numbers swarmed to and fro in \'ia del ( "asscro, 
 the main avenue of the city, shouting for the Spanish
 
 228 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Constitution and for Independence. General Church, a 
 military adventurer who slashed his way to notoriety dur- 
 ing the Napoleonic wars, and who now commanded the 
 army in Sicily, odious as an enemy of the Carbonari and 
 as the agent of conscription, appeared among the boister- 
 ous soldiery and ordered them to their quarters. There- 
 upon the populace fell upon him, and but for the succor 
 of some of his officers would have killed him. He lost 
 no time in stealing out of the city to take refuge at 
 Trapani, whence he fled at the first opportunity to Naples, 
 leaving his house burnt behind him. Another niglit 
 passed and still Naselli wavered. He promised to send 
 envoys to acquaint the King with the wishes of the Sicil- 
 ians; but no vessel made sail out of the port, and the 
 populace demanded that the fortress of Castellamare, 
 which juts seaward midway in the crescent of Palermo's 
 harbor, should be surrendered to them. Naselli con- 
 sented, on condition that the garrison should remain there 
 undisturbed. Still unappeased, they wrecked the Stamp 
 Office, the Bureau of Registry, and other offices asso- 
 ciated with the detested Neapolitan government. Deep 
 in the night of July 17 the troops expelled the rabble 
 from Castellamare, and when day came all classes were 
 seething with wrath which must soon find vent. 
 
 There is in every large moflern city a forlorn, desper- 
 ate mass, little heeded in tranquil times, when the police 
 are vigilant and the courts severe. It is composed of the 
 wretches who have failed in reaching even the lowest 
 plane of independence, or who more often have never 
 tried to rise ; of the wicked and reprobate, whose crimes 
 have driven them like rats into foul places. Among 
 them are the beggars, loafers, and swindlers, the bur- 
 glars and cutthroats, the ex-convicts and the panders to 
 vice. The women are slatterns and harlots, \\onianly 
 only in sex, but as gross and brutal in their speech and 
 acts as the men. The children, bred in corruption and
 
 NAPLES IN REVOLUTION. 229 
 
 nurtured with blows and curses, instead of the innocence 
 of childhood display a precocious cunning, an infantile 
 depravity, saddest of all evidences of human degeneracy. 
 This human cesspool is kept at the flood by the creatures 
 spawned in its depths, and by in-pourings from the social 
 levels above it. There it reeks from decade to decade, 
 little affected by the changes which improve the rest of 
 the city, — a pestilent hopeless Malebolge, hidden just 
 below the surface of respectable society. The outcasts 
 who welter therein know no more of life than its squalors 
 and disgusts. They have the primal brutish instincts of 
 savages, but they have not those compensating instincts 
 which enable even savages to form a primitive conmiunity. 
 Hunger and thirst, heat and cold and goatish lust, are 
 the grim demons which in turn possess them. To appease 
 the appetite of the hour and never to be appeased, is 
 their impulse, their experience. Those desires and wants 
 whicli spur other men to endeavor, which evoke a forti- 
 tude greater than the hardship, a self-control stronger 
 than the desire, and which in noble minds are vanquished 
 by a stoical disdain, overwhelm these wretches and make 
 them baser than slaves. Ties of family, they know them 
 not: how should they know them, stived as they are, a 
 score of men, women, and childn'n together in a single 
 room? Brother would slay brother for tlie possession of 
 a woman; the mother begrudges her child the garbage he 
 has snatched from the gutter. Laws tliey rcspcrt not : 
 are not the laws barriers set u\) by tlu' ricli and fortunate 
 to keep thes(! abject ones fiMUi the loaf and flagon tht'y 
 covet? Religion they understand not: at most they are 
 conscious of a (hxml) foi-eboding lest To-mori'ow be more 
 horrible than To-day. This m:iss, whose health is rotten- 
 ness, lies inei-t but ominous at tlie very core of onr proud 
 ca])it:ils: the Aits Honrish round it, Conunerce thiives, 
 IMiilosophies are imblished. Polities are disenssed; but it 
 remains unaffected, the (h'pository of the aboriginal bes-
 
 230 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 tial instincts of mankind. It is a monster whose survival 
 from a preglacial period mocks our civilization and con- 
 demns our religion. Missionaries hasten to Papua and 
 Ashantee to expound the doctrines of predestination and 
 purgatory to astonished savages; but at home, a few 
 streets away from the churches, lie Papuas and Ashan- 
 tees far more needing regeneration. 
 
 In times when respectability prevails, this monster is 
 held in check; its members, like the wolfish mongrels of 
 Stamboul, prowl the streets at night in search of refuse, 
 and snarl among themselves ; but you can cower them ea- 
 sily with a menacing gesture. But suppose all the butch- 
 ers were suddenly called away, leaving their shambles 
 unguarded, do you think those currish scavengers, for all 
 their long diet of offal, have lost their craving for meat? 
 Let Paris tell you how her outcasts behave when their 
 keepers sleep. Presently you shall hear how the many- 
 headed beast glutted itself at Palermo: but first you 
 must reflect that the rulers of Italy, whether by their 
 perfidy, oppression, or incompetence, had helped in every 
 city to swell the numbers of the desperate class and to 
 whet their brutal instincts. 
 
 When the third day broke on Palermo (Jvily 17) there 
 were signs of imminent danger. All classes were sullen, 
 ready to fly at each other's throats at the least provoca- 
 tion. The nobles who had first raised the cry of inde- 
 pendence had been out-shouted by the populace, who in 
 their turn were exasperated by the soldiery. More than 
 sixty hours of excitement, little sleep, much wine, and 
 many harangues would unfit the soberest legislators for 
 deliberation; far more did they unfit these passionate 
 Palermitans, whose brains reeled with wild impulses, 
 w^hose tongues uttered delirious hopes, whose hearts were 
 festering with old grievances and wrath long repressed. 
 The continued suspense, due to the evident incapacity of 
 the Lieutenant-General, and his duplicity in ordering the
 
 NAPLES IN REVOLUTION. 231 
 
 garrison to drive the militia from the fortress, intensified 
 that impulse, common to human nature in critical mo- 
 ments, to do something, if it be only to do amiss. Troops 
 of cavalry and infantry, commanded by a General 
 O'Faris, blustered through the streets, and by their taunts 
 invited a quarrel. Some of the more temperate citizens, 
 being unable to placate them, sought Naselli, who had 
 quitted the city, and as they were returning from him 
 with a written order for the troops to withdraw to their 
 quarters, the soldiers opened fire, and shot down two of 
 the peacemakers. That volley was the signal for the 
 long-awaited tumult. The soldiers, now beyond restraint, 
 fired at the windows and balconies of the houses, and 
 killed women and children drawn thither by curiosity. 
 The populace, lashed to fury, seizing one a musket, 
 another a knife, a third a bludgeon, set upon their assail- 
 ants. Each street echoed with the fusilade and the 
 shouts of the fighters, and the groans of the wounded; 
 each square was a battlefield. The nobles and bourgeois 
 held aloof, but they were not missed; for plebs have 
 always the majority: and to honest plebs were soon added 
 the dishonest and desperate who glided out of their hid- 
 ing-places at the sound of war. The prisons being un- 
 locked, the convicts rushed thence to aid the artisans, 
 who were disposed in squads according to their guilil, 
 and led by a priest, Joachim Vaglica. It was a struggle 
 for life or death : the populace fought madly to wreak 
 veugcauce upon tlie instruments of their i)ast injuries; tlie 
 soldiers knew that tliey could expect no mercy from the 
 foes whom they had infui'iated by their insolence and 
 brutality. The bells had tolled nine wlien the first blood 
 was slu'd ; they tolled noon amid the unslaekened roar of 
 the confiict. Hour by liour the insui-gents gained, grad- 
 ually driving the troops to bay in the }>iazza before the 
 Ivoyal Palace, lliere both sides had cannon, but the ]><»p- 
 ulacc by pouring into the piazza troni its tributary streets
 
 232 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 were able to attack the troops in many points simul- 
 taneously. The cavalry charged to drive them back, 
 when an unexpected cannonade swept through their 
 squadrons: they wavered, they fell back, they took to 
 flight. Then the infantry broke and followed pell-mell 
 through those streets which were unblocked by the mob. 
 Sixty of the populace had been killed ; the military losses 
 were five hundred in killed and wounded, and many more 
 made prisoners, including O'Faris and two other gener- 
 als, whose lives were barely saved. Naselli, as soon as 
 defeat threatened, had taken refuge on shipboard and 
 then sailed for Naples.^ 
 
 Palermo was now in the hands of its populace. The 
 proviponal Junta which Naselli had appointed was as 
 powerless to restrain the victorious mob, as it had been 
 to prevent the riot. The day closed with the sack of the 
 Royal Palace. Among the guilds, each of which was nom- 
 inally commanded by a consul, the Tanners took the lead 
 by their vehemence. The torrent of lawlessness was 
 swelled and darkened by the streams drained into it from 
 the i^risons and galleys and by the inpovirings from the 
 social cesspool I have described. For several days terror 
 reigned. Dwellings were gutted and burnt, shops and 
 warehouses were plundered, suspected persons were cast 
 into prison or slain. Prince della Cattolica, sup])osed to 
 have been in collusion with Naselli, was hunted down in 
 his retreat in the country, was killed without mercy, and 
 his body was left for days to rot by the roadside. Prince 
 d'Aci, hated for his past severity when praetor, was 
 dragged from the palace of Cardinal Gravina, whither 
 he had sought asylum, and murdered ; and then the mob 
 
 ^ Poggi, i, 273-5 ; Tiirotti, i, 017-24. Some historians, among whom is 
 Tiirotti, affirm that Naselli was underhand rather than incompetent, and 
 that all his acts during these critical days were planned hy him to instigate 
 an insurrection which should afford the Bourbon government an excuse 
 for withhohling the Constitution from Sicily, and for punishing the island 
 by a more oppressive tyranny.
 
 NAPLES IN REVOLUTION. 233 
 
 bore his head on a pole through the streets. Fury is as 
 contagious as panic fear among crowds; and many of 
 these Palermitans, crazed by the general frenzy, com- 
 mitted crimes without deliberation ; others were bent on 
 revenge, others again on booty. The soberer citizens 
 seconded the effort of the consuls to form a Junta of ten 
 cavaliers and ten jurisprudtmts, and they were careful to 
 select men supposed to favor Sicilian independence, and 
 to be acceptable to the populace. But the Junta had no 
 force wherewith to make itself obeyed. At its first meet- 
 ing, a band of marauders gathered ominously before the 
 palace of Cardinal Gravina, the President of the Junta, 
 and cried out for absolution for their crimes, till he 
 deemed it wise to appear on the balcony and nuike the 
 sign of pardon over them. When the proceedings of the 
 Junta were too slow to satisfy the impetuous, it was 
 whispered that Gravina was a traitor, and but for the 
 protection of the priest Vaglica, wlio still retained the 
 confidence of the mob, he too would have been dis- 
 patched. 
 
 We need not rehearse the details of the atrocities com- 
 mitted during that sunnner in Sicily, wlien the siui blazed 
 with unusual fierceness, yet not so hotly as the passions 
 of the islanders. We need not folhhv tlic precarious for- 
 tunes of the fliuita, nor of the leaders wlio, lacking power 
 to dam the flood, resigned in quick succession from tlieir 
 dangerous, hopeless i)ost. We need not tell how bands 
 of guerrillas sprang u[) in all ])arts of the island, to fight 
 eacli other and to harass the ])eaceful; liow towns were 
 sacked, farms devastated, women ravlslied: how province 
 wrangli'd with pi-ovlnce, city with city; liow tlie ])artisans 
 of the Spanisli Constitution smote the ])artisans of tiie 
 Sicilian Constitution, and all ])arties iua(h' theii' ])()litical 
 disagreement an excus<' for nuii(h'r, })illage, and ra])ine: 
 how the desp<'rate classes crawled cvci-y where out of tlieir 
 burrows, and tlie prisons were voided of their criminals:
 
 234 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 the ten weeks' orgie but proved how much of the tiger 
 still survived in the Sicilian nature, and how near that 
 tiger crouched to the surface. The government at Na- 
 ples, we surmise, might have tamed the monster by a quick 
 display of energy ; but energy was not a characteristic of 
 the Bourbons. Possibly, too, the King and Regent were 
 not unwilling that the Sicilian discord should become so 
 intense that they might have an easy victory by playing 
 off one faction against the other. At any rate, when 
 envoys from Palermo reached Naples, instead of being 
 listened to, they were locked up. At last, however, the 
 government took alarm and dispatched Florestan Pepe, 
 brother of William, with a considerable force to subdue 
 the island. Landing on the northern coast he advanced 
 towards Palermo, and having driven back small forces 
 of insurgents began to invest the city. The Palermitans 
 were in no condition to undergo a long siege : the chaos 
 of more than two months had wasted their provisions; 
 the neighboring countr}^ exhausted by depredation, could 
 have furnished no new supplies, even had the means of 
 communication not been closed. When a few days of 
 famine had dashed the bravado of the besieged, Prince 
 di Paternb, one of the nobles who was still popular with 
 the masses, by a shyewd policy brought them to think of 
 surrender. Haranguing the multitude, he bade them to 
 brand as a deserter whoever talked of peace ; he offered 
 money to all who would then and there join him in an 
 attempt to break through the enemy's lines. When no 
 one moved, he chid them for their cowardice and laughed 
 at their sham pugnacity. Having thus gained their con- 
 fidence and proved their weakness, he was chosen to nego- 
 tiate with Pepe. A general amnesty was agreed upon, 
 Sicily consented to accept the Spanish Constitution, but 
 the question of a separate Sicilian parliament was left to 
 be decided later. The day on which these terms were 
 made (October 5), the Neapolitan troops marched silent
 
 NAPLES IN REVOLUTION. 235 
 
 and sullen into Palermo and occupied the forts. It was 
 estimated that four thousand of the islanders had been 
 killed during the civil war; the damage to property was 
 enormous; and who can compute the harm done to the 
 Sicilian character by that long delirium of carnage and 
 brutality ? 
 
 On the mainland the summer waned without witnessing 
 grave disorders. The Carbonari were the heroes, and in 
 all but name they were the rulers of the country. They 
 had a central assembly hall in the capital, and no longer 
 kept up a show of secrecy. Beards sprouted on all male 
 chins, and bushy locks waved over all male necks, because 
 such was the Carbonaro fashion. Samson should have, 
 been the patron saint of modern revolutionists, who haveji 
 attached more importance to the length of hair outside! 
 their skulls tlian to the strength of the thoughts within.) 
 Tlie relations among all parties were delicate, but each 
 side knew that forbearance was necessary, and, strange to 
 say, they forbore. The Kegent, as the King lurked in 
 shadow, gave no cause for tlie suspicion tliat he would not 
 fulfil his pledges to the people. William Pepe and the 
 chief Constitutionalists ostentatiously protested their loy- 
 alty to the monarchy; the extremists, who had a republic 
 and universal happiness on the tips of their tongues, eon- 
 tented themselves with exercising that organ and no other. 
 So the weeks wore on, and by the time the first grapes 
 had begun to ripen, and Naples was bristling with Car- 
 bonari beards, the deputies had been chosen witliout dis- 
 turbance and were come up to the capital for the opening 
 of the Parliament. 
 
 On October 1, that ParlianuMit, the first represt'ntative 
 body of modern Italians constitutionally elected, convened 
 in the church of Santo Sj)irito. There were tlie King and 
 Ki'gcnt, flu; nieiubci's of the I'oyal family and Court, the 
 dignitaries of the Church and generals of the army, the 
 two and seventy deputies, and as lai'ge a concourse of
 
 236 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 citizens as the church would hold. The King, placing 
 one hand on the Bible, again took the oath to defend the 
 Constitution. Galdi, President of the Chamber, delivered 
 an address, temperate in tone but not in length, to which 
 Ferdinand made approving gestvires. Then Pepe resigned 
 his commission of commander-in-chief of the army, was 
 complimented by the King, and thanked by the Regent 
 for his devotion to the royal family and to the public 
 welfare. The King then rose, and having declared the 
 Parliament opened, he and his cortege quitted the church. 
 The superstitious remarked that the weather, which had 
 been cloudy at his arrival, poured down rain at his de- 
 parture. 
 
 On the next day Parliament opened its regular sessions 
 in the hall of St. Sebastian. Worthy, and earnest, and 
 willing were those three-score and twelve deputies, but 
 they lacked experience. Imagine, in a country without 
 physicians, a troop of novices called in to prescribe for 
 a sick man; what disputes, what blunders must ensue! 
 Happy the patient if he escape alive. Yet the body pol- 
 itic of Naples, wasted by a complication of chronic diseases, 
 was now left to the mercy of politicians without a diploma. 
 Some advised an opiate, some an emetic, others were for 
 heroic treatment and itched to ply the knife. As always 
 happen-s, the assembly soon split up into three sections, 
 composed of the Moderates, the Waverers, and the Eadi- 
 cals. And besides this legally convened parliament, there 
 were numberless other unofficial and irresponsible parlia- 
 ments, whose meeting-place was on the sidewalk or in the 
 public square and in every lodge of Carbonari; and they 
 all showered suggestions and demands upon the poor be- 
 wildered deputies. These, with a fine disregard of sep- 
 arating the important from the trivial, began their work 
 by changing the names of the Neapolitan provinces; jump- 
 ing the Christian era, they revived the names of the Sam- 
 nites, Hirpini, and Marsi. One deputy endangered the
 
 NAPLES IN REVOLUTION. 237 
 
 tranquillity of the Parliament by throwing into it the 
 question, " Is this assembly constituent or constituted?" 
 The prudent and fearful, remembering whither a similar 
 question had brought the French Assembly, trembled lest 
 discussion should lead to an explosion, but fortunately 
 news came of the surrender of Palermo, to turn attention 
 away from that dangerous topic. The Neapolitans were 
 angry at the terms Florestan Pepe had made with the 
 rebels, who, they said, had virtually gained from him the 
 recognition of their right to Home Kule. Parliament 
 echoed the anger of the populace, anmdled the compact, 
 ordered the Sicilians to elect and send deputies to Na- 
 ples, and replaced Pepe by Colletta. The latter, a stern 
 soldier, resolved on doing right as he saw it through Car- 
 bonaro glasses, succeeded in preventing another outbreak 
 in Sicily; but the order he maintained was due to his vig- 
 orous application of martial law, and not to the healthy 
 removal of grievances. So determined were the Neapoli- 
 tans not to recognize the separatist claims of the Sicil- 
 ians, that they decreed that the Straits of Messina should 
 be known as the river of the l^haros. Whilst they were 
 thus engaged in amending geograj)hical nomenclature, 
 and in disputing over internal affairs, tliere was brewing 
 in the skies to the north of them, — of wliicli they 
 seemed as oblivious as if they had been dwellers on Pit- 
 cairn's Island, — a great tempest whose rumblings they 
 could already hear in the intervals between their own 
 debates. 
 
 The Juj)iter who rod(> tlvis storni and hurled its thunder- 
 bolts was clean-shaven, blandly-smiling Prince Mctter- 
 nich, clad not in Olympian nudity, but in rufHed nnislin 
 shirt, in embroidered brocade coat si)arkling with many 
 orders, in satin waistcoat, in silk knee-breeches and stock- 
 ings, and in shining ])iun])s witli silver buckles; a sort of 
 Beau-Brunjniel-Jnpiter, (Mjually at home in tlie l)ou(loirs cjf 
 (lcmi-"roddesses and the councils of kiuirs. The mundane
 
 238 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 events of this year, 1820, had more than once wrinkled 
 his Jovial brow and dropped bitterness into his cup of 
 nectar; for it was less than five years since he, in his 
 supernal wisdom, had decreed a government for Europe, 
 and here were the Europeans up in rebellion declaring 
 that his government was not good. The military mutiny 
 at Cadiz and subsequent revolution in Spain, the assas- 
 sination of the Duke of Berri, the revolutions in Portugal 
 and Naples, what were all these but signs of the naughti- 
 ness and ingratitude of mortal men, whom the bounty of 
 even a Brummel -Jupiter could not satisfy? They 
 spurned his smiles, let them beware his frowns : let them 
 not think that he who but a little while ago had helped to 
 bind the Prometheus of the Revolution on St. Helena's 
 rock, would see Olympus stormed by a horde of revolu- 
 tionary pygmies. 
 
 Metternich surveyed the danger, and prepared to crush 
 it. He might leave the rebels in the Spanish peninsula 
 to wear themselves out, but the revolution in Naples 
 called for his immediate interference. If the Neapolitans 
 were allowed a constitutional government, how could the 
 other Italians be denied? And how would the Lombards 
 and Venetians suffer Austria's paternal tyranny, if they 
 saw their brothers across the Po living in liberty ? Evi- 
 dently Austria would have to redouble her garrisons in 
 Venice and Lombardy if that calamity befell. To Met- 
 ternich, on his Olympian peak, those efforts of oppressed 
 people to win their freedom looked but like the work of 
 tramps setting fire to hayricks. "The revolt breaks 
 out," he writes; "it is indubitable and evident; it is the 
 beginning of a conflagration ; if they are in good order, 
 take your fire-engines there; ask no qiiestions; do not 
 hesitate; extinguish the fire; success will be certain. . . . 
 Our fire-engines were not fvill in July, otherwise we 
 should have set to work immediately."^ But although 
 
 ^ Memoirs, iii, 448.
 
 NAPLES IN REVOLUTION. 239 
 
 taken by surprise, he did not regret that the conflagra- 
 tion at Naples had been allowed to burn brightly enough 
 for him to see the faces of the incendiaries. And when 
 he recognized them as Carbonari, as members of those 
 secret societies which deposit "everywhere the seeds of a 
 moral gangrene which is not slow to develop and in- 
 crease," ^ he exulted; because he preferred "to take in 
 hand Carbonarism rather than Liberalism." ^ Tlie Lib- 
 eral he deemed a half-hearted fellow, but tlie Carbonaro 
 was one who never (pialified his demands through fear or 
 bashfulness or policy; and as "the man who desires the 
 whole is very strong in comparison with him who desires 
 only the half," ^ Metternich believed that if he played 
 his engines on Carbonarism, the half-ignited embers of 
 Liberalism would fizzle out of themselves. 
 
 Had his troops been ready, he would have marched 
 them immediately to Naples without asking leave, and he 
 felt sure that Europe would have applauded liis prompt 
 success; but since he could not do this, he planned that 
 Austria sliould receive from the chief Powers the mandate 
 to put down the revolution. lie could count u})on Prus- 
 sia's consent, and England, tlirough Castlcreagh, he so(m 
 cajoled. England had scruples, indeed, as to the justice 
 of interfering in the internal affairs of an independent 
 State, but those internal affaii's became of international 
 concern wlien they menaced tlie peace of n('ii;lil)()i-ing 
 States: viewed from this ])()int they justified foreign 
 intervention; and, since Austria was chiefly atYected, 
 England was willing to allow her to take what measures 
 seemed ])r()])er to lici-.' Franc«>, aml)itious to regain the 
 infincnce which she had lost since Waterloo, was inclined 
 to look less harshly on the Xeapolitan Constitutionalists; 
 "at least," she urged, "let us sanction what is moderate 
 and beneficial in their reforms, although we condemn the 
 
 1 .i/.mo/r?. iii, -1(14. '^ //,„/. i:,i. « ihid, \:a). 
 
 « Bianchi, ii. l(»-ll'.
 
 240 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 military sedition out of which they sprang." ^ But Met- 
 ternich's chief opponent was the Czar. Alexander was 
 mercurial and enthusiastic in temperament, easily caught 
 by high-sounding phrases, and ruled by favorites who 
 flattered his vanity to be considered a monarch of large 
 ideas and generous purposes. At the downfall of Napo- 
 leon he aspired to play the part of the Good Genius of 
 Europe; he coquetted with liberal doctrines, but never 
 imagined that, because they pleased his fancy, he was 
 under obligation to put them into practice. Genuinely 
 solicitous of the welfare of his people, he never dreamt 
 that that welfare could be promoted by any methods of 
 which he did not approve. As Russian autocrat he was 
 opposed to the aggrandizement of his rival, the Austrian 
 autocrat, and he had, as we have seen, interfered more 
 than once to block Austrian machinations in Italy. It 
 was believed, and probably with reason, that he had en- 
 couraged his agents in their friendly intercourse with 
 Italian Liberals. He was even suspected of having a 
 secret understanding with the Carbonari. He coveted 
 a seaport on the Mediterranean, and he hoped perhaps 
 that, in certain contingencies, the Russian flag might fly 
 over Ancona or Spezzia. In 1820 he and his chief min- 
 ister. Capo d' Istria, were still amusing themselves with 
 their pretty doll Liberalism, of Parisian make. Metter- 
 nich, who had no high opinion of grown-up monarchs and 
 ministers who delight in childish toys, wished to arrange 
 a private conference between the Czar and Emperor 
 Francis; but to this Alexander would not agree. Then 
 it was arransred that the sovereiofns of the Five Powers 
 should meet and confer at Troppau. 
 
 To Troppau, therefore, Alexander, Frederick William, 
 and Francis went at the end of October; England sent 
 Lord Stewart, Castlereagh's brother, and France was 
 represented by La Ferronays and Caraman. To discredit 
 
 1 Bianclii. ii, 6-7.
 
 NAPLES IN REVOLUTION. 241 
 
 Capo d' Istria before the Czar was Metternieh's first move. 
 Pretending that Alexander's generous impulses were in 
 the abstract worthy of so intelligent and noble a monarch, 
 he shrewdly proceeded to show how different, how dan- 
 gerous Liberalism appeared, when it took its natural con- 
 crete form. Did his majesty regard with satisfaction the 
 recent mutiny of his troops at St. Petersburg? Had he 
 forgotten his ambition to guarantee the peace of Europe 
 against political incendiaries? Had he not, only two 
 years before, declared that resistance to the legitimate 
 authority in any country would justify the Allied Powers 
 in armed interference ? ^ To reinforce these oral argu- 
 ments, Metternich submitted to the Czar a written " Con- 
 fession of Political Faith," a long document, in which he 
 set forth his political maxims, dogmatically supporting 
 them by historical examples, and deducing from them co- 
 rollaries so cogent and predictions so plausible that they 
 could not fail to convince a monarch who prided himself 
 upon being a philosopher.^ Metternich 's reasons pre- 
 vailed, and he coidd soon write, "The Neapolitan revolt 
 and all its charms have been put in quarantine." The 
 Powers agreed that they " would never recognize anything 
 which is the work of the rebellion," but that "before re- 
 sorting to extreme measures, they desire to exhaust every 
 means of reconciliation, not between the rebellion and 
 lawful power, but between the real interests of the Nea- 
 politan Kingdom and those of Italy and Euro])e." Tlie 
 three monarclis, therefore, invited the King of Na])les to 
 visit them, and to lay before them the condition of liis 
 subjects and his plan of restoring order. The King, 
 being fret;, as the Neapolitans persisted in affirming, "he 
 should feel it his duty to take uj)on himself this great 
 work." If he refused, tlie Neapolitans ouglit to surrender 
 him; but if he acrpiiesced, and they prevented his going, 
 
 ' Fvfri!: Uistorii of Miiiinn Kiiro/i, (X.'sv York, !SS7), ii, l'.>5. 
 - Full text ill his Ml tiiniis. iii, l.VJ-T'l.
 
 242 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 every Neapolitan should be held responsible for his safety. 
 This action being taken, the Congress at Troppau dis- 
 solved,^ to convene forthwith at Lay bach; couriers sped 
 southward with the invitation to Ferdinand, and Metter- 
 nich at least had no doubt that Ferdinand would accept 
 it ; for he had in his portfolio a letter in which the King 
 intimated his wish to flee from Naples and begged Aus- 
 tria to send an army to reconquer his kingdom for him.^ 
 To the Neapolitan deputies the report of these proceed- 
 ings came as a warning that they had foes more formid- 
 able than the Bourbons. On December 7 the Regent 
 read a message before the Parliament, announcing the 
 receipt of the invitation and of the King's willingness 
 to accept it, in order that he might be the peacemaker 
 between his people and the sovereigns of Europe, and 
 that he might secure a constitution establishing national 
 representation, personal liberty, freedom of the press, 
 and immunity for the July insurrectionists. The discus- 
 sion of the message was postponed till the following day, 
 and meanwhile the city fell a prey to rumors and suspi- 
 cions. On the morrow, when the deputies went to the hall 
 of Congress, they were accompanied by crowds of angry 
 sectaries, who shouted for "The Spanish Constitution or 
 Death! " and flourished daggers to em]>hasize their mean- 
 ing. Borelli, an able speaker, sought to dissipate the 
 doubts as to the King's loyalty: it woidd be monstrous, 
 he said, to suspect the descendant of St. Louis and Henri 
 Quatre of treachery. ^ So it was voted that he be allowed 
 to depart on a mission which could not harm and might 
 help the country. The deputies little knew that in the 
 Royal Palace it had been resolved that, should the Par- 
 liament refuse, an attempt would be made "to overthrow 
 
 ^ Metternich, iii, 449-50 ; Bianchi. ii, 22-8. 
 
 ^ Bianchi, ii, 23. It is also asserterl that Ferdinand asked the monarchs 
 to invite him to Laybach : CoUetta, ii, 385. 
 3 CoUetta, ii, 389.
 
 NAPLES IN REVOLUTION. 243 
 
 the anarchists, by another 9th Thermidor," — as if by the 
 trimmers and poltroons cowering round the King, much 
 less by the King himself, a downright bold deed could 
 be done ! ^ But the Court took precautions to redouble the 
 guards at the palace, — a sign of distrust which had exas- 
 perated the populace, and had led the Central Assembly 
 of the Carbonari to remain in session until the crisis 
 should pass. The only condition exacted from the King 
 by Parliament was that, before setting out on his journey, 
 he should renew his oath to the Constitution. Ferdinand, 
 who was thoroughly alarmed lest escape should at the last 
 moment be cut off, complied in a written message, in 
 which he promised that if he were unable to persuade the 
 monarchs at Laybach to respect the wishes of his subjects, 
 he would return in time to draw his sword in their de- 
 fense, lie also requested that four de})uties accompany 
 him, to give him advice and to bear witness to his vera- 
 city.^ Parliament and populace acce2)ted this last assever- 
 ation of sincerity and deemed it unnecessary to send the 
 four deputies with tlie King, whose honor and patriotism, 
 they were glad to believe, needed no guardians nor ad- 
 visers. Ferdinand embarked (December 14) on an Eng- 
 lish ship, which was delayed for a short time by an acci- 
 dent near Baja : whereu])()n a delegation of dei)uties ami 
 officers visited him to express tlieir regret at the niishu]). 
 When the frigate at last got under \vay, they saw^ the 
 Carbonari ribbons still fluttering on tlie royal bosom, iiiul 
 they went liome filli'd witli proud hopes for the royal mis- 
 sion to Ti;>yb;u'h.^ 
 
 Mcttcniicli re.Mchcd Laybach early. He came with the 
 buoyant lieart of a man alxmt to consunnnate business 
 
 ^ Carra-scosa, 2-)7, qiiotod l)y Pepo, ii. •'>■*>. 
 
 2 Till- text of tliiH iiicssap' is in l'.'i).>"s Uridliou (lis Kr/nrmcns l^ulitiqiKS 
 et ^^lil<n^r,'s CP:ir\H. lS-_>-.'), IIC-IT. 
 
 " On hfiiifj askt'd at Layhadi wliv lie liad worn flu' rarhon.iri colors on 
 this oci'itsion. Kt'rdinand r('i)lifd tliat lie lia<l observed tliat his ship was 
 within ranp! of two cannon on the fort at Baja: IVpi', Mi mom, ii. II.
 
 244 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 of benefit to the race and to his own renown. He had, 
 to be sure, still a few formalities to arrange, but as he 
 was a master of formalities, this work was his recreation. 
 He had the advantage over his diplomatic rivals in that 
 he coddled no delusions concerning the propriety of Ab- 
 solute monarchs flirting with Liberty. Months before 
 (August 10) he had written to his political valet, Gentz: 
 " In Naples no one, not even the first leaders, know where 
 they are going, where they can go, or even where they 
 want to go. There the revolution has really dropped 
 from the clouds; it lies like a spectre on the land. 
 Those who have summoned it have gained their end so 
 quickly that they are quite astonished to be suddenly 
 oblio^ed to rule."^ Metternich had increased their aston- 
 ishment by refusing to receive the Neapolitan envoy. He 
 had arrayed all the other Italian princes against the con- 
 stitutional government except the Pope, who felt it his 
 duty to remain neutral, and the Grand Duke of Tuscany, 
 who trusted so fully in the good-will of his subjects that 
 he did not need Austria's protection. Conscious of his 
 well -laid preparation, Metternich breathed the balmier air 
 of Laybach, and his spirits rose. His only concern was 
 to hold the volatile impulses of tlie Czar long enough to 
 make him an accomplice in the Austrian policy ; so lie em- 
 ployed his leisure before the arrival of the sovereigns in 
 conferring with the Czar's chief councilors, Nessolrode 
 and Capo d' Istria. The former he likened to a trout, 
 which nature fitted to dis]3ort itself in a clear running 
 brook, but which chance had penned up in a stagnant 
 pool. "Since I have let a little fresh water in upon him 
 he has astonishingly revived," writes Metternich. "He 
 has become lively, and longs for the harder but healthier 
 medium. He will certainly not remain so, for what is a 
 glass of pure water in such a swamp?" ^ Capo d' Istria, 
 however, was not so easily wrought uj)on by a draught 
 
 1 Metternicli, iii. 441. '^ Ibid, 478.
 
 NAPLES IN REVOLUTION. 245 
 
 from the pure Metternichian spring. The Austrian 
 chancellor came from his interview with Alexander's 
 Greek favorite in disgust, almost in anger. "A tyrant 
 does not alarm me," he says: "I should know how to 
 avoid his attacks, or bear them with honor. But the 
 Radical maniac, the sentimental Boudoir-Philanthropist, 
 makes me uncomfortable. I like iron and gold, but I 
 hate tin and copper. This childish feeling is so decided 
 in me that I never can endure jdated things." ^ 
 
 The monarchs arrived, and with their ministers made 
 up a family party, which seemed more bent on pleasure 
 than business, and from which all strangers and unin- 
 vited guests were excluded. Metternich devoted himself 
 to the Czar, upon whom, over a samovar of caravan tea, 
 he brought to bear all his charms, and diplomatic expe- 
 dients, lie was witty, he flattered, he argued, he en- 
 treated, he suggested dangers, and all so plausibly that on 
 January 10 he was able to write: "To-day, if the earth 
 does not break up or the heavens fall down, or the com- 
 monest and vilest ruffians destroy all good people with 
 right and strong wills, we liave won the cause. Capo 
 d' Istria twists about like a devil in holy water; but he is 
 in holy water and can do nothing. The chief cause of 
 our activity to-day arises from my thorough agreenu'ut 
 with the P^mperor Alexander. Here, again, the tea makes 
 its astonisliiiig power felt."" Sure of the Czar, Metter- 
 nicli had little difficulty with the other Powers. Kng- 
 land took the ground tliat tlie Neapolitan revolution 
 touched Austria more closely than the rest of Europe, and 
 that Austria (mglit therefore to be allowed to interfere; 
 for the sake of formality, Austi-ia might act as the manchi- 
 tary of Europe.'^ Pascpiier, the French Minister of For- 
 
 1 Metteniidi. iii. 47i'. - Ihiil, -1<(). 
 
 ^ (\-lHtl(!r('aK-irs course wiis aTiiliii^uoiis. In liis oflicial dispatclics in 
 IU'Ceilih»!r, lS2l), lie jn-otcstrd aLjaiiist tlic doctiiiu' tliat a cliaiim' of j;(>v- 
 ernnioiit, in any Stato jiistifii'il tlic Allii'd I'(i\v('p< in intci-fi rinL; : l>ut In- 
 Bct-ms, in liLs private instruelioiLs to iiis agents, to have abetted Austria.
 
 246 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 eign Affairs, resisted the assertion of the right of foreign 
 intervention and of military occupation as contrary to 
 the laws of nations, but his opinion was overruled by the 
 reactionary advisers of Louis XVIII, and France there- 
 fore sided with Austria. But what of the Neapolitan 
 king who had come to plead the cause of his people before 
 the Laybach Congress? 
 
 Ferdinand announced to his brother monarchs that he 
 had taken the oath to the Constitution under compulsion,^ 
 — that he was as unconverted as themselves to the here- 
 sies of Liberalism, — that he left it to them to chastise 
 his rebellious subjects. But what of the honor of a 
 king? what of the oath twice sworn on the Holy Bible? 
 The descendant of St. Louis was so base that he would 
 not have understood how men could look upon his per- 
 jury as shameful. And whilst the Congress was decid- 
 ing the fate of his kingdom, he amused himself at the 
 chase, or with the Russian bears which the Czar presented 
 to him. Metternich felt contempt for Ferdinand, not 
 because he was a liar, not because he was a sneak, but 
 because he did not lie and deceive successfully. "For 
 the second time," Metternich wrote, "the task devolved 
 
 Fyife (Modern Europe, ii, 197) takes the former view ; Bianclii (ii, 38) 
 takes the latter. 
 
 ^ Turotti (i, 177) reports a conversation between Ferdinand and his 
 confessor from which I quote a part. " King. Does n"t the oath I made 
 on that book of yours bind me to my promise ? Confessor. You did not 
 make the oath with the intention of keeping- it, and it was a mere formal- 
 ity ; where there is not a precise act of the will to do wrong, there is no 
 sin. King. Then I am free, for my intention was not to fulfil bj' my act 
 what I promised in my words ; 't was a violence of those Carbonari rascals, 
 who constrained me by force ; I was like a Christian amid Turks, who, to 
 save himself from the stake, promises to become a Mussulman. Confessor. 
 I tell you the crown is yours, and that a people may exact no terms from 
 its king-. God gave it to your race, and you may use every means to pre- 
 serve it. They deceived us by their secret tricks, let them equally be de- 
 ceived." Where Turotti got this interview, I know not, but, as the Italian 
 proverb says, Se non e vera, e hen trovato ; it contains nothing unfair to what 
 we know of Ferdin:ind's character or to the moral standard of the Neapoli- 
 tan clergy.
 
 NAPLES IN REVOLUTION. 247 
 
 on me of picking him up, — for he has the unfortunate 
 habit of always throwing himself down. Many kings 
 fancy that the throne is only an armchair, in which one 
 can sleep quite comfortably. In the year 1821, however, 
 a seat of this kind is inconvenient to sleep in, and badly 
 stuffed."^ "Picking Ferdinand up " meant sending an 
 Austrian army to subdue and occupy Naples ; it meant a 
 warning to Liberals throughout Europe, that any attempt 
 of theirs to wrest concessions from their despotic rulers 
 would be punished by the combined forces of the Holy 
 Alliance; further, it established the precedent of foreign 
 interference in the internal affairs of an independent 
 State, and it familiarized Europe with the idea that when 
 anything went amiss in Italy, Austria was naturally the 
 Power to step in and set it right. While, therefore, he 
 despised Ferdinand, Metternich must have felt grateful to 
 his incompetence for furnishing an excuse for Austria's 
 encroachment. The Congress speedily accepted ^letter- 
 nich's view that it could have no dealings with the "pro- 
 duct of a revolution: " it refused to listen to any partisans 
 of the Constitutionalists; and it empowered Austria to 
 dispatch forces to restore the legitimate sovereign, — if 
 more were needed the Czar would send an army. Even 
 Capo d' Istria, finding th:it Metternich had converted the 
 Czar, changed his course and proposed to spin a web of 
 respectability over Ferdinand's perfidy 1)}' forging a cor- 
 respondence in which it should ap])ear tliat Ferdinand 
 protested against the violation of the govei-nmi'iit lu; had 
 sworn to uphold, and that the monarchs would not listen 
 to him." But this trick was deenicd futile; the Congress 
 dccideil that its acts needed no defense. On February G 
 Metternich wrote, " Po-day sixty thousand men will 
 cross the Po. In less than thirty days they will sit in tlie 
 curuh' chairs of the Parthenojx'.ui lawgiver as a proof 
 that tlieri^ is no ]>r()rrastination with nie. My enemies 
 
 ' Melternicli, iii, IT'.I. - FyfTv. ii. L'nO.
 
 248 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 must find me very inconvenient." ^ Thus did our Briun- 
 mel- Jupiter gather the storm, and grasp the thunder-bolts 
 firmly in his kid-gloved hand. 
 
 In Naples, after the King's departure, men began to 
 realize that should the King's mission fail, they might 
 have to defend themselves against an invasion. By in- 
 sisting on "the Spanish Constitution or death," they had 
 left no scope for negotiations. But they were still intox- 
 icated with their good fortune and still prone to mistake 
 their tumultuous energy for enduring strength. Whilst 
 Parliament discussed reforms in the judicial system and 
 then adjourned, public order became more unruly, and 
 violent sectaries resorted to violent deeds. Giampietro, 
 odious to many as Director of Police, was dragged from 
 his house and stabbed forty times by a band of Carbo- 
 nari, who pinned on his body a list of twenty-six per- 
 sons marked for assassination ; opposite his name being 
 written the words, "Number One." ^ The ministry was 
 reorganized, but stability was still lacking. From time 
 to time the Regent communicated to Parliament the let- 
 ters he received from his father, but the King did not 
 refer to the vital issues under discussion in the Congress, 
 and had nothing more important to relate than that his 
 hunting dogs were better than the Czar's. Letters from 
 Duke del Gallo, who had been prevented by Metternich 
 from appearing at Laybach to speak in behalf of the 
 Constitutionalists, renewed the apprehensions of danger, 
 and the Regent called a council of generals to draw u]) 
 a plan of defense. Here, too, the lack of firmness and 
 leadership was ominous. Personal discords and military 
 jealousies, the old feud between the Bourbonists and 
 Muratists, and the new hostility between Carbonari and 
 non-sectaries, boded ill for the national cause. More 
 than eighty thousand conscripts were levied, but they 
 mustered less than fifty thousand soldiers, undrilled and 
 ^ Metternich, iii, 4So-4. - Colletta, ii, 395-6.
 
 NAPLES IN REVOLUTION. 249 
 
 ill-equipped. Nevertheless, the Carbonari kept up popu- 
 lar enthusiasm, even at the risk of encouraging delusive 
 hopes. They drew succor from history and recalled how 
 the French people, roused to a frenzy of patriotism, had, 
 with far inferior forces, defeated the veterans of Prussia 
 and Austria in 1792. What might not a people, united 
 and fighting for freedom, accomplish against the minions 
 of tyranny? 
 
 At last the suspense was broken by the arrival of 
 Duke del Gallo, who had been permitted to enter Lay- 
 bach after Metternich had dictated the policy of the 
 Congress. He brought a letter from the King to the 
 liegent, which the latter laid before Parliament, recon- 
 vened for that purpose. Ferdinand wrote that he found 
 the Great Powers "irrevocably determined not to permit 
 a continuation of the present state of things; " that they 
 would use force, if persuasion were not enough; but 
 that, if their conditions were accei)ted, the measures to be 
 adopted should be guided wholly by Ferdinand; other- 
 wise, he intimated, the sovereigns would themselves im- 
 pose measures on Naples to insure the tranquillity of 
 that kingdom and the peace of the neighboring States.^ 
 The Regent, after reading this letter and promising to 
 remain loyal, exhorted the dei)uties "to be prudent, cau- 
 tious, and firm; " but "it was observed that wlien remind- 
 ing them of the danger and repeating his oath, his voice 
 faltered, as if choked by some suddini emotion."' floscpli 
 Poerio, one of the most intelligent of the ^Iod«n-ales, 
 s])oke in defense of the King. It was incredible, he said, 
 that Fei'dinand liad sanctioned this ])erfi(ly, for lu; had 
 freely granted tlie Constitution in .July and freely rati- 
 fied it in October; the ])resum])tiou must be, therefore, 
 that the sovereigns having Jiim in their ])ower at Laybaeh 
 liad frightened liini into this recantation of his ])iin('ii»les ; 
 his honor, not less than that of his kingdom, demanded 
 
 1 Text in ColletUi, ii, :;',»<.>- KH). - //„',/, 4(»1.
 
 250 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 that the Neapolitans should take up the challenge of war. 
 And Avar, clamored for in the streets, was declared in the 
 Chamber and sanctioned by the liegent. 
 
 Then was there much bustle of preparation and little 
 results. The men in the bureaux at Naples had no expe- 
 rience in mobilizing and provisioning an army; the men 
 in the camps were ill-clad and undisciplined. A consid- 
 erable part of the regular troops was still in Sicily, pre- 
 serving order by martial law. The populace, confronted 
 with the grim certainty of war, shrank from the death- 
 grapple. Most of the recruits came from the Carbonari, 
 who showed in this that they were not afraid to fight; 
 but the rank a Carbonaro held in his lodge, if superior 
 to his rank in the regiment, produced a conflict of author- 
 ity; a private or subaltern who was a Grand Master 
 chafed at the commands of a captain who was not a Car- 
 bonaro at all. Nevertheless, an imposing campaign of 
 defense was sketched on paper. The first army corps, 
 under CoUetta, was to guard the frontier along the Liris ; 
 the second, under William Pepe, was to be stationed in 
 the Abruzzi, by which it was expected the enemy would 
 invade the kingdom. Pepe spared no effort to prepare 
 his raw troops for the encounter; he drilled them, he 
 talked to them of glory and of duty; he assured them 
 that they would be more than a match for the white- 
 coated veterans of Austria. But day by day passed, and 
 no supplies or reinforcements came from Naples, and 
 day by day General Frimont, with that Austrian army 
 sixty thousand strong, was drawing near. At length its 
 vanguard appeared near Rieti. Pepe's troops began to 
 desert ; he perceived that the suspense was melting their 
 courage, and therefore, though he would have preferred 
 to await an attack, he was forced to give the order to ad- 
 vance. His troops engaged the Austrians between An- 
 trodoco and Rieti (March 7), and fought with considerable 
 valor, but when he found that they were gaining no
 
 NAPLES IN REVOLUTION. 251 
 
 ground, he signaled them to fall back. The undisciplined 
 soldiers construed a retreat to mean a rout, and many 
 threw away their arms and fled; nor could Pepe rally a 
 remnant sufficiently large to enable him to make another 
 stand against the enemy in the mountain passes.^ 
 
 Desperate, he hurried to Naples to collect a fresh force, 
 and to urge the Regent and Parliament to take refuge 
 in Sicily; the war had but just begun, he said, and it 
 would not be decided by a single skirmish; let the na- 
 tion rise in mass and dispute every inch of soil, and the 
 Austrians must surely be repelled. His entreaties fell 
 on ears in which the booming of Austrian cannon struck 
 terror. The few who listened to him whispered rumors 
 that but for incompetence or treachery he would not have 
 been defeated ; but the greater part of the Neapolitans 
 were busy concocting excuses by which they hoped to save 
 themselves from the retribution which previous restora- 
 tions had taiight them to expect. Ferdinand, lurking 
 well out of danger in the rear of the Austrian ai-my, 
 emitted manifestoes in which he called upon liis faithful 
 subjects to receive the forces of his august allies not as 
 en(!mies, but as friends come to protect them. General 
 Frimont exhorted them to listen to the royal and paternal 
 voice of their King, whose interests were inseparable from 
 theirs. Parliament, still plucky, addri^ssed a letter to 
 Ferdinand, begging hiiu to renienil)er tliat it had merely 
 exercised functions whieli he liimself liad granted it, aiul 
 re(piesting him to return to his peo})le and ex])ress liis 
 wishes to tliem, without interposing a foreign force be- 
 tween him and thi'm. When tlie Austiians were within 
 a sliort mai'cli of tlie ea])ital, the (le])uties adopted a formal 
 ])rotest, drawn up by Poerio, stating that the ])resen(H' of 
 a foreign army obliged them to snsju-nd tlieir Imsiness 
 and tliat, according to the i-eport of the Kegent, the latt'st 
 reverses made it im])ossil)le to ti"insfer the Parliament to 
 a place of safety. (Jeneral Carrascosa liad already been 
 
 ' IVpu : lit /(itiiiit, '>~-~'>.
 
 252 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 commanded to negotiate with General Frimont, and on 
 March 23 the Austrian troops entered Naples by the 
 Capuan gate. Some of the leading revolutionists, includ- 
 ing Pepe, had fled when they found that to remain was 
 hopeless.^ Besides the foreign invaders and the Bour- 
 bons, the only creatures in Naples who rejoiced that day 
 were the barbers, who were kept busy cropping the tell- 
 tale locks and beards of frightened Carbonari. 
 
 The revolution which thus failed had, like many 
 human undertakings of larger note, a comic aspect. The 
 gods who favor the strong may well have smiled at the 
 presumption of four or five million Neapolitans who dared 
 to assert their manhood against the menaces of tyrants, 
 holding one hundred million Europeans in subjection; 
 they may have smiled at the self-confidence of men who, 
 without education or experience, believed themselves able 
 to conduct a constitutional government, and to reform by 
 legislative fiat the character of a people debased by cen- 
 turies of corruption ; they may have smiled to see discord 
 instead of harmony, factional zeal mistaken for patriot- 
 ism, private envy weakening arms raised for the public 
 good. But there are other gods who look with kindlier 
 eyes upon the failures and mistakes of men ; true gods, 
 who "sigh for the cost and pain " when the worthy hopes 
 of mortals are disappointed; whose hearts are touched 
 with sympathy when they behold men abandon ease and 
 fortune and life itself to pursue a noble ideal, without 
 measuring obstacles, or dreaming of defeat, gods who 
 wove crowns of glory for Leonidas and his three hundred 
 dead, and scorned Xerxes and his victorious myriads at 
 Thermopylae. To them, the tragedy of human life is 
 ever present : doubt not that they sorrowed at the disaster 
 in Naples ; doubt not that their sympathy was with those 
 misguided, beaten enthusiasts, rather than the cynical 
 Metternich and the perfidious King. 
 
 1 The best account of the fall of the constitutional government is in 
 Pepe's Relation ; other authorities corroborate his statements.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE REVOLUTION IN PIEDMONT, 1821. 
 
 The excitement of the year 1820 sped northward from 
 Naples, and found in almost all parts of Italy smouldering 
 embers which might easily have been fanned into a blaze, 
 had not the firemen of the Absolutist princes been on 
 hand with their engines. In the Papal States small fires 
 did, indeed, break out, and at Parma and Modena incen- 
 diaries were on the alert. But although the year passed 
 without a general conflagration, the successes of the 
 Neapolitans emboldened ])atriots everywhere. The sects 
 plotted more busily and less vaguely, for they had now 
 a definite s(;heme. 
 
 In Lombardy the best men were in the movement. 
 They had founded at Milan a literary newspa})er called 
 11 Conciliatorc, which, though devoted to literature 
 and criticism, api)caled, so far as the strict censorship 
 permitted, to })atriotic sentiments. Manzoni, (!'onfa- 
 lonieri, Porro, Silvio Pcllico, and others wliose social 
 })<)siti()n or intellectual ability mad(i them respected, and 
 wlio were known for their Ijiberal aspirations, conducted 
 this journal, and some of them, notably (\)nfal()nieri, 
 promottid reforms for eidightening the masses and im- 
 ]M-()ving their material condition. They organized night 
 sehools and societies for mutual su])])ort : tliey formed a 
 company to light Milan by gas and to introduce steam- 
 boats on the Po. The Austrians watched these efforts 
 suspiciously, but as yt't they espied no ti'casonable intent 
 u])<»ii which tyranny miglit ])oiince. Still, it was ])rob- 
 able that tliese philanthr(i]>ic geutlemeu liad secret rela-
 
 254 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 tions with the conspirators; education leads so easily to 
 Liberalism, and philanthropy to patriotism. And the 
 sects were, indeed, active in Lombardy. Under the 
 Napoleonic regime that had been the most flourishing 
 province of the Kingdom of Italy; its ablest men had 
 been employed in the army or in the government, and 
 they chafed under the rusting idleness into which they 
 had been forced by the restoration. But, as they had 
 had more experience than the other Italian plotters, so 
 they were more prudent. Estimating the chances in 
 favor of a rising against Austria, they found that, them- 
 selves unaided, the struggle would go against them. To 
 secure allies was therefore their purpose, and they dis- 
 patched emissaries to sound the intentions and to gauge 
 the strength of the sects beyond the Ticino. 
 
 In Piedmont the situation was peculiar. As at Milan 
 the leaders of the Liberals belonged to the most intelli- 
 gent and aristocratic classes ; they were as eager as any 
 other Italians for independence, but, unlike the other 
 Italians, they were attached to their King. They inher- 
 ited a loyalty to the House of Savoy that had been 
 strengthened by the courage and fair dealing of the 
 princes of that dynasty for more than two hundred years. 
 When Victor Emanuel came back from exile in 1814, 
 they had rejoiced as at the return of a father, and now 
 they had no wish to dethrone him. Nevertheless, his 
 paternal despotism was intolerable : the Jesuits had con- 
 trol of public worship and of education ; the civil offices 
 were in the hands of inflexible reactionaries; the army 
 and the Court were petrified by Pre-Napoleonic methods. 
 Officers who had won renown at AusterJitz or Borodino 
 grumbled to see themselves displaced by men who had 
 slumbered through fourteen years of exile in Sardinia; 
 scarred veterans laughed at being officered by young grad- 
 uates from the military school, wliose only recommenda- 
 tion was that they were aristocrats "by the grace of God."
 
 THE REVOLUTION IN PIEDMONT. 255 
 
 The bourgeoisie complained at the revival of obsolete cus- 
 toms which made business precarious, and at arbitrary 
 interference with the tenure of property. Only the peas- 
 antry, the long-suffering peasantry, obedient and still 
 inarticulate, uttered no murmurs as they sowed their rice 
 in the swamps and garnered their maize in the plains. 
 
 This, then, was the problem before the Piodmontese 
 Liberals, how to secure a constitutional government with- 
 out removing their autocratic King. The abuses were 
 there, the desire for freedom was there; and there was 
 Victor Emanuel, a sovereign as deeply imbued as any 
 in Europe with the old notions about kingship. The 
 conspirators hit upon a strange solution, they would make 
 the King their accomplice ! Assuming that the misdeeds 
 under which the country groaned were due to his ministers 
 and not to himself, they counted upon his benevolent dis- 
 position to grant the petition of his subjects so soon as 
 their desires shoidd be unmistakably expressed. Hith- 
 erto the ministry had acted as a dead-wall beyond wliieli 
 no appeals could penetrate to the sovereign; but now 
 these patriotic zealots would raise so loud a cry that the 
 sovereign nuist hear it. And they proposed, moreover, 
 to strengthen their cause by including the territcn-ial 
 aggrandizement of tlic House of Savoy in their scheme. 
 Long had the Piedmontese princes bided their tim(^ there, 
 in the northwestern corner of Italy; France liad swept 
 down upon them from the west, Austria from the east; 
 yet resolutely and unchanged had they waited. Theirs 
 was now the only native dynasty in Italy, the only dy- 
 nasty which could rely uptm the devotion of its people. 
 And now fortunt; approachinl, liolding tlie long-coveted 
 ])rize towards them. Had Victor Kmanuel forgotten 
 that maxim of his ancestor, Emanuel Philibert, "It:ily is 
 an artichoke, to b(^ <':iten leaf by h'af " ? Had ho vv- 
 nouneed tht; heredltaiy aniliition of his fanillv? ^^ ould 
 he refuse to add Lonibaidy to lus kingdom, when he
 
 256 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 knew that the Lombards were ready, at a sign from Pied- 
 mont, to rise and expel their Austrian enslavers? And 
 if Lombardy, why not Venice ? Why should not the flag 
 of an independent and Liberal Italy fly over every town 
 from the Alps to the Adriatic ? 
 
 To patriots who saw the Promised Land thus in mirage, 
 the way «eemed short. Not, indeed, that they had no 
 differences of opinion. There were Lombards who in- 
 sisted that Lombardy should be an independent State; 
 there were Federatists who proposed a league, without 
 even a nominal sovereign, for the Northern Italians, 
 including the Tuscans; there were Radicals whom only 
 a republic could satisfy. As beggars discuss what they 
 will do with a fortune, they even discussed which city 
 should be the future capital: the Piedmontese could not 
 consent to have Turin relegated to second place; the 
 Lombards argued that Milan would be central, and they 
 remembered her glory under Viceroy Beauharnais; and 
 there were partisans for both Genoa and Venice. Mean- 
 while, the most urgent need was to oust the Austrians 
 and to convince Victor Emanuel that his revolutionary 
 subjects were conspiring in his behalf. 
 
 The reliance felt by the conspirators in their ability to 
 arouse the dynastic ambition of the House of Savoy was 
 not so Quixotic as it at first seems; their error lay in mis- 
 judging Victor Emanuel's character and in being ignorant 
 of his diplomatic engagements. Many of his predecessors 
 had dreamed that the King of Piedmont would some day 
 ride over a larger Italy. In 1804 Joseph 4e Maistre, 
 one of the acutest political observers of his time, had 
 written that the chief reason why Austria must hate the 
 House of Savoy "is its tendency to increase its domin- 
 ions, and its being called to greater Italian possessions by 
 universal good sense and by regard for the safety of the 
 Peninsula and of all Europe. This is the great crime of 
 the House of Savoy, that its powerful neighbor has never
 
 THE REVOLUTION IN PIEDMONT. 257 
 
 forgiven." 1 In 1814 Valesia, Piedmontese Minister of 
 Foreign Affairs, urged Victor Emanuel not to let slip the 
 opportunity to act; above all, he said, "let the Italian 
 national spirit be cherished."^ Later, the King himself, 
 as we have seen, firmly resisted both the threats and the 
 blandishments of Austria in her attempt to secure the 
 Upper Novai-ese and to coerce Piedmont into a league. 
 But when the Spanish and Neapolitan revolutions broke 
 out, Metternich stampeded the King and his ministers by 
 prophesying ruin to those legitimate monarchs who lived 
 at the mercy of rebellious subjects, instead of accepting 
 the protection of the Holy Alliance. Piedmont unwit- 
 tingly fell into the ambush of her hereditary enemy, and 
 made terms with the sovereigns at Tro})i)au, but she wished 
 so far as she might to reserve indei)endence of action in 
 her own concerns.^ 
 
 The conspirators knew of these negotiations, but not 
 precisely, and they made their knowledge help the patri- 
 otic cause. Was it not their duty, they asked, to rescue 
 their noble King from the bondage to Austria into which 
 he had been delivered through the perfidy or incompe- 
 tence of his advisers? Let him but see that his devoted 
 people were bent on restoring him to the liberty his race 
 had most highly valued, and he must approve. So loyal 
 were the niotives, so plausible the arguments of these 
 unselfish conspirators ! 
 
 The year 1820 was touching its end without witnessing 
 any attempt to effectuate these i)lans. A new ministry, 
 (•()iiij)()S('d of abler and milder men, hud been formed, but 
 tlie autocratic ])rinciple had in nowise been renounced by 
 the King. The jdotters drijamed and talked and con- 
 spired, and after every consultation they believed more 
 earnestly that their project was so rational that it had 
 only to b(! revealed in order to convince everybody. Tlie 
 Carbonari fraternized with the Federatists, and both were 
 
 1 liiuuclii, i, 45. - Ibul, 47. 8 lliUl, ii, 11>-1S.
 
 258 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 busy enrolling converts. Even those Liberals who would 
 not associate themselves with any sect, knew of the general 
 scheme and gave it an abstract encouragement. The ring- 
 leaders were, with but a few exceptions, officers of dis- 
 tinction; therefore, they naturally determined that the 
 army should be the immediate agent of the revolution. If 
 the army demanded the Constitution, how could Victor 
 Emanuel resist ? For he, like his fathers, was a military 
 king and must accept the preferences of his troops as 
 indicative of the will of his people. Many subalterns and 
 battalions having been won over, it only remained to find 
 a general whose reputation would give dignity and whose 
 ability would give a successful direction to the movement. 
 The man for the place was unquestionably Gifflenga, 
 who, of all the Piedmontese officers, had most distin- 
 guished himself in the Napoleonic wars; but Gifflenga 
 declined the honor, deeming the time unpropitious and 
 the hazards too great. Then the conspirators turned to 
 Charles Albert, Prince of Carignano, and they thought 
 that they had in him a leader whose name would be irre- 
 sistible. 
 
 This singular man was then only twenty-two years old, 
 but he had already outlived many vicissitudes. Born in 
 1798, just on the eve of the French invasion, his infancy 
 had the roll of drums and the tramp of regiments for lul- 
 labies. His father, Charles, was head of the younger 
 branch of the House of Savoy; his mother, Charlotte 
 Albertina of Saxe-Courland, coming when still in her 
 teens to Turin, startled its prim Court by her free-and- 
 easy yet not ungracious manners. When King and Court 
 fled to Sardinia and Piedmont became a province of the 
 French Republic, Charles of Carignano turned Republi- 
 can, donned a liberty cap, and styled himself Citizen. 
 Citizeness Charlotte, unconventional always, visited her 
 husband on duty at barracks, discoursed vehemently in 
 the dialect of Jacobinism, and even, it is said, danced
 
 THE REVOLUTION IN PIEDMONT. 259 
 
 the Carmagnole to the delectation of the French officers,^ 
 The good Citizen and Citizeness were nevertheless sus- 
 pected, and summoned to Paris, where they dwelt under 
 surveillance. In 1800 Charles died, and for several 
 years his widow with her boy, Charles Albert, and a 
 younger sister, P^lizabeth, lived precariously. Then 
 Napoleon suddenly relented and showered favors upon 
 them, being attracted, gossips whispered, by the per- 
 sonal charms of Madame de Carignan. She, however, 
 married an obscure gentleman, M. de Montleart, by 
 whom she bore several children, leaving her son Cliarles 
 Albert to the care of boarding-school masters, first in 
 France and then in Switzerland. The boy was naturally 
 of an affectionate but melancholy temper; he craved 
 tenderness which no one showed him ; he was homesick 
 for a home he had never seen. His jumbled experience 
 puzzled his youthful will ; from his earliest days he had 
 heard the conflicting doctrines of Republicanism and Im- 
 perialism, and though nominally a Catholic, he was now 
 confided to a Swiss Protestant. Another change, and he 
 found liimself at Bourges with a lieutenant's commission 
 in a rejjiment of Fren(*h drairoons. 
 
 When Napoleon's downfall permitted the King of Pied- 
 mont to return to Turin, Charles Albert also returned 
 thither. AVith what suspicion the lad of sixteen was re- 
 ceived by the rigid Victor Emanuel we can easily imag- 
 ine; still, the youth was not wholly to blame for liis career 
 among Jacobins and Bonapartists, and, morcoviT. lie was 
 heir to tlie throne of Piedmont. Victor Kmauucl liad 
 only daughters, whom the Salic law cut off from the suc- 
 cession ; his brother, Chailes Felix, was childless; there- 
 fore, at the death of Victor Emanuel and Charles Felix 
 the crown would pass to tht; young Prince of Carignano, 
 Charles Albert had already l>een the subject of many 
 
 ' Hiraurff^ard de ("osta: l'r(il<i(inf d'un luijiic (I'aris, ISS'.t), 10 ; (Jalleiifja : 
 Ilist. uf I'Udmunt (London, 1>^")">). iii, oliU.
 
 260 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 diplomatic wiles, for Metternich knew his royal pedigrees 
 as a parson knows his catechism, and he hoped to lop off 
 the Carignano branch of the family-tree of Savoy, and 
 to engraft an Austrian scion in its stead. Accordingly, 
 he persuaded Victor Emanuel to give his eldest daughter 
 in marriage to her uncle the Duke of Modena ; then he left 
 no artifice untried in attempting to have the Salic law 
 revoked. Failing in this, he requested that Charles Al- 
 bert should be sent to the camp of the Allies, just then 
 celebrating their entry into Paris; but both the King 
 and his brother suspected a foul design. "Prince Cari- 
 gnano 's affair is not less disagreeable," wrote the latter. 
 "I have expected it for a long time. If I may give you 
 my advice frankly, it is for you to get him married as 
 soon as possible. Otherwise, either they will kill him, or 
 they will debauch him so that he cannot beget an heir, or 
 they will entangle him in some bad marriage. He would 
 be quite as badly off at Wellington's headquarters for 
 religious reasons, as with the Germans for the other con- 
 sideration. 'T is a great trick, open your eyes I They 
 have treated us so well only to enjoy our spoils later, and 
 to make an end of the House of Savoy." ^ These were 
 serious charges to be made against Prince Metternich and 
 his imperial master, who always professed to act from 
 pure Christian motives; but Victor Emanuel saw the 
 danger, and guarded the scapegrace youth in whose 
 safety the perpetuation of the Piedmontese dynasty was 
 bound up. The order of succession was formally de- 
 clared by the Congress of Vienna to appertain to the 
 Carignano branch. 
 
 The young Prince was therefore established at Turin 
 as the heir presumptive to the throne, but his position 
 was not agreeable. He was taken in hand by the King, 
 who strove to eradicate in "him the bad impressions of 
 the Liberal education " he had received. The Queen, 
 ^ Charles Felix to Victor Emanuol, July 17, 1814 ; Bianchi, i, 306.
 
 THE REVOLUTION IN PIEDMONT. 261 
 
 Maria Theresa, hated him because, true Austrian that 
 she was, she wished the succession to go to her daughter, 
 the Duchess of Modena. Charles Felix felt a personal 
 antipathy for him, mingled with distrust. The restored 
 nobles of the Old Regime looked upon him with wonder 
 and suspicion, as if a wild cygnet had alighted amid a flock 
 of dodos. Yet by his youth, his tact, and his submission 
 to the King's process of disinfection, Charles Albert won 
 general respect. lie acquiesced when the King warned 
 him that it would be well to marry as soon as possible 
 for the sake of an heir, and accepted Maria Theresa, 
 daughter of the Archduke of Tuscany, who was chosen 
 for him. "Mathematically speaking, I ought to be 
 happy," he wrote, after having been introduced to her. 
 Sombre shadows already flitted through his mind. Yet 
 he had his enthusiasms — who has them not at twenty ? — 
 his gallantries, his love of horses, his fitful hours of study. 
 Deepest in his heart lay patriotism, still a vague but sweet 
 sentiment, not yet a duty calling for sacrifices and leading 
 to danger. The petrified manners, the prim, servile con- 
 versation of the Court must, we imagine, have chilled 
 one whose youthful imagination had been fired by the 
 Napoleonic world, and who felt that his life was a reality 
 and not a reminiscence. No wonder, therefore, that his 
 boon companions were men of the younger generation, 
 most of whom had great hopes of their country's future 
 and came to associate him with the fulfilling of tlicir 
 hopes. Whether they whispered it to him or not, he 
 could not fail to perceive that lie would, in the course of 
 things, be in the })osltion to check or to encourage the 
 as])irations of the Piedmontese, perhaps of all their bro- 
 ther Italians. 1 le hated Austria, he loved liberty, but 
 his love was of the Platonic kind, flaking nosecrtt of 
 his relations with men of Liberal views, whom he received 
 cordially at his ])ala('e, Ik; sliocked the harsh Charles 
 Felix and gave rumor many tasks. The more temperate
 
 262 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 critics contented themselves by the thought that many 
 follies and much sowing of wild oats, political or other, 
 must be expected of a lusty young prince. Nevertheless, 
 we would not predict evil for a young man who thus 
 confessed himself to his stanchest friend : " I read much, 
 I study, I draw. When one has the misfortune to be a 
 prince, especially at this time, one must know every- 
 thing, more than mediocrely, and learn to suffice unto 
 oneself, for now the veil has fallen. Princes are judged 
 severely. It were well if being judged were all, but, 
 through calumny, our estate as prince is only tenable for 
 those who do not understand it, or for those who have 
 enough vigor of soul to follow the path of honor through 
 all imaginable vexations. Unhappy indeed is he who at 
 all distrusts himself." ^ That a prince so earnest in the 
 main, worthily ambitious and having kingship in pros- 
 pect, should welcome the most intelligent and progressive 
 of his future subjects is no more wonderful than that they 
 should have spared no persuasiveness, even to the point 
 of flattery, to make him feel that destiny had marked him 
 out to be the glorious instrument of his country's welfare. 
 He and they were mutually deceived, but their deception 
 was born of good intentions. They believed that when 
 the moment came to strike he would lead them, and he in 
 his glow of enthusiasm believed this too.^ Neither as yet 
 saw how incongruous it was that the heir to an Absolutist 
 monarchy should conspire to force the actual King, his 
 cousin, towards whom he felt most loyal, to grant a con- 
 stitution. 
 
 Relying upon the cooperation of Charles Albert, the 
 Liberals set about priming their guns. Further delay 
 might ruin the plot. Happily the news came that Aus- 
 tria intended to dispatch an army to subdue the Neapoli- 
 tans. Here was the occasion that patriotic Italians had 
 
 ^ Beauregard, 88. 
 
 2 Cf. B. Manzone : II Conte Moffa di Lisio (Turin, 1882), 45-6.
 
 THE REVOLUTION IN PIEDMONT. 263 
 
 long awaited. The invasion of Naples would draw off 
 many regiments from Lombardy and Venetia, and encour- 
 age the conspirators in those provinces to rise. The re- 
 volt would spread through the Legations and the Duchies, 
 the Austrian army would be hemmed in on all sides, and 
 the issue could not be doubtful. One thing was indispen- 
 sable : Piedmont must give the signal by declaring a con- 
 stitution and marching her army across the Ticino. The 
 gates of Milan would fly open to welcome it, and nothing 
 could stay its triumphal progress to Mantua and Verona, 
 perhaps even to Venice. 
 
 Whilst this general revolt was ripening, an event un- 
 expectedly occurred in Turin which showed the state of 
 popular opinion and served to exasperate the temper of 
 the various partisans. One evening a company of uni- 
 versity students appeared at the D' Angennes Theatre 
 with Phrygian caps on their heads (January 11, 1821). 
 The police, making grave of what was probably mere 
 youthful deviltry, tried to arrest them. A tussle ensued, 
 in which the police succeeded in carrying off several pris- 
 oners. Their com})anions flamed with indignation, and 
 declared, what was true, that the delinquents ought to be 
 tried by the magistracy of tlie University, and not by the 
 criminal court. Tlie carabineers surrounded the Uni- 
 versity; tlie students within barricaded the entrance and 
 ])repared for a siege. Count Prospero Balbo, Cabinet 
 Minister and President of the University, strove to ])a- 
 cify the students, and went to lay tlieir gi-ievance before 
 th(! King. Put presently four companies of greii'idiers 
 marched to reinforce tlie ])oli('e, and the contest broke 
 out. The soldiers of course won, but not witliout receiv- 
 ing many hard knocks. Twenty-seven wounded stu(h'nts 
 were taken to the hos])ital ; the rest were rusticated to 
 the ])rovinees. It was found that most of the wounds 
 had l)t'en given by tlie officers' sabres and not bv the sol- 
 diers' bayonets; and this increased the popular hatred of
 
 2G4 THE UAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Thaon di Revel, governor of the city, who led the at- 
 tack, and his officers; but the outraged citizens, lacking 
 force to retaliate, had to content themselves by dubbing 
 the aggressors sabrers. At the first news of the broil 
 Charles Albert had hastened to the King for orders ; but 
 he let his sympathy be seen by sending money and deli- 
 cacies to the wounded students.^ 
 
 An ominous calm followed this accidental outburst. 
 The government knew that the conspirators were active, 
 but waited for these to show their hand; the conspira- 
 tors, inferring that the government hesitated through 
 indifference or fear, began to count on winning an easy 
 game. Had they been less confident, they would have 
 been more troubled at the arrest of Prince della Cisterna, 
 Marquis di Prierio, and Chevalier Perrone, three conspic- 
 uous personages, upon whom were found incriminating 
 papers. But there is reason to believe that they were 
 only amateur conspirators uninvolved in the great plot, 
 which now approached maturity.^ The main course had 
 been laid down, and the discussion waxed hot over details. 
 What sort of constitution should be demanded ? — that 
 was the question. One party advocated the Spanish, an- 
 other the English or French. The Spanish was more 
 democratic, establishing only one chamber; the others 
 established two chambers, an upper and a lower. In a 
 country like Piedmont, having a strong aristocracy, and 
 among conspirators who were themselves aristocrats, a 
 house of peers ought to have found favor; but the ma- 
 jority voted for the democratic scheme. For the Spanish 
 Constitution was the fashion that year, and the conspira- 
 tors wished to propitiate the middle and lower classes, 
 even at the expense of their own aristocratic traditions. 
 And now all was ready; instruction had been sent to 
 
 1 Pog-gi, i, 320-8 ; Santarosa : Eivoluziojie Piemontese del 1821 (Tuiiu, 
 1850), 38-44 ; Beauregard, 145-6. 
 ^ Santarosa, 40.
 
 THE REVOLUTION IN PIEDMONT. 265 
 
 every accomplice in the army; each lodge of Carbonari 
 or Federatiists had its work marked out; it was believed 
 that the necessary arrangements with the Lombards hatl 
 been concerted. 
 
 On the evening of March 6 the four principal con- 
 spirators were ushered by a secret staircase into Charles 
 Albert's library. They were Lieutenant-Colonel Mar- 
 quis Charles Asinari di San Marzano, of the Queen's 
 Dragoons, and son of the then Minister of Foreign Af- 
 fairs; Count Santorre di Santarosa, major of infantry; 
 Count Moffa di Lisio, captain in the regiment of the 
 King's Light Horse; and Chevalier CoUegno, major of 
 artillery. Santarosa thus describes the interview: 
 "Charles di San Marzano spoke first: his words were 
 those of a man profoundly convinced. There was no 
 obstacle, no difficulty that his ardent imagination did 
 not clear away ; he described them as they liad been fore- 
 seen by him, but all-powerless before the ascendency of 
 a firm and resolute will. The others explained to the 
 Prince that they had Italy and posterity in view, that the 
 Piedmontese revolution would mark the most glorious 
 epoch of the House of Savoy. They added, and the fu- 
 ture justified their words, that in the movement pre})are(l, 
 nothing sinister to the King and his family was to be 
 feared, to whom our breasts would l)e a sliield on every 
 occasion. Count Santarosa unfolded one l)y one the 
 means to be adopted the moment the revolution occurred, 
 in order to assure intt'rnal liberty and the independence 
 of the fatheiland. Nothing was concealed from him, and 
 these memorable words were addressed to him: 'Prince, 
 everything is ready, only your consent is wanting; our 
 friends assembled await at our return either tiie signal 
 to save the country, oi- tlie fatal annouucenient that their 
 h(jpes are vain.' And the consent was given by Charles 
 Albert." 1 
 
 • s 
 
 aiitaiosa.
 
 266 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 The Prince, writing of this interview a few weeks later, 
 told a different story. These gentlemen, he says, after a 
 long dissertation on Liberalism, concluded by express- 
 ing the hope, "that I would put myself at their head to 
 obtain some slight concessions from the King. I replied 
 to them that the only course open to me was that marked 
 out by religion and honor; that nothing in the world 
 would make me abandon my duty. I then sought to 
 reason with them and to prove to them the folly of their 
 enterprise ; but they replied that my words were futile, 
 as they were bound by the strongest of oaths. Then I 
 let them understand point-blank that, if I could not pre- 
 vent them from acting, I would take stand against them : 
 I discovered with amazement that the greater part of my 
 artillery officers were involved. I then threatened these 
 gentlemen that I would go to the King. They departed, 
 saying that they counted on the secret; that they hoped 
 I would change my view, and finally, that the revolution 
 would break out the very day the King went to Monca- 
 lieri."^ This was the explanation given by Charles Al- 
 bert, when, having been branded as a traitor both by his 
 former friends and enemies, he strove to make his peace 
 with trivimphant Absolutism. Did his memory fail? Did 
 he intentionally falsify ? Did he impute to himself in the 
 retrospect a decision which he had not shown at the crisis ? 
 Or were the four conspirators so bent on having him ac- 
 cept, that they misinterpreted his words? Let who can 
 fasten upon the truth among these contradictions : history 
 can assert at least one fact, — to wit, that though the 
 Prince's treachery was unintentional, it had the effects of 
 wilfid betrayal. Weakness is often as baneful as down- 
 right wickedness. 
 
 Santarosa and his companions quitted the Prince, 
 firnd}^ persuaded that lie had given his consent. Thus 
 they reported to their eager accomplices, and boundless 
 
 1 Beaureuarci llC-11.
 
 THE REVOLUTION IN PIEDMONT. 207 
 
 was their exultation. The word was passed to begin the 
 revolt on the morning of March 8. The intervening day 
 dragged for those men, who, after years of hoping and 
 plotting, saw success at hand. Great was their con- 
 sternation when, towards evening on March 7, they heard 
 that Charles Albert had drawn back. Keflection had 
 painted all the risks of the undertaking before his waver- 
 ing imagination ; the patriotic enthusiasm engendered by 
 contact with the persuasive conspirators gave way to 
 doubt; loyalty to the King outweighed his pledge to the 
 patriots: he bowed to what he believed to be his duty, 
 and went to inform the Minister of War that he had inti- 
 mations of an imminent outbreak, which must be pre- 
 vented. He sought counsel of Cesare Ball)o and General 
 Gifflenga, who, though Liberals, agreed that the revolu- 
 tion would be untimely, and that the i)roposed war against 
 Austria for the liberation of Lombardy must fail. Col- 
 legno and San Marzano, at the first tidings of the Prince's 
 defection, hurried to brace his courage. "They pro- 
 tested," he wrote, "that I would ruin them, and dislionor 
 myself in the eyes of Europe. I dismissed my tem])ters, 
 adding that I had done my duty, and saved them from 
 themselves. Then they sent counter-orders everywhere, 
 and I had thus the satisfaction of hindering the exei-ution 
 of tlie first plot."^ The orders were indeed counter- 
 manded, l)ut only to enabh' the desperate leaders to make 
 a last effort to win back the Prince. On Marcli 8 San 
 ]VIarzano, Santaiosa, and San Micliele, colonel of the 
 Light Horse, liad a filial interview with him. They as- 
 sured him that tliey would strikt; tlie blow, with or with- 
 out his consent; but mistrust ini;- his interference, they 
 coneeak'd tlie hour from him. ("liailes Albert, tlisingeii- 
 uously, it apjiears. probed in vain to diseovei- their seen-t. 
 He told them that he could take no active part in the en- 
 terprise, but that he syiiij)alhiz»'d in their wish to secure 
 
 ' 15u:iur.'.-anl. II'J.
 
 268 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 a more Liberal regime. Santarosa construed this to 
 mean that the Prince was at heart with them, and if they 
 were bold they might fix his fickle resolution. But the 
 following morning (March 9), after another consultation 
 in which Charles Albert again attempted to unmask their 
 designs, and after there could be no doubt that as com- 
 mander of the artillery he had taken measures to frus- 
 trate them, Santarosa with grieving soul admitted that 
 the movement must be abandoned. Messengers were 
 sent to Alessandria, Fossano, and Vercelli to communi- 
 cate this decision to the leaders in those places. 
 
 But the rescindment came too late. Early on March 
 10 Turin was startled to learn that the garrison of Fos- 
 sano had marched out under Collegno, whither no one 
 knew, and that the garrison of Turin was imder marching 
 orders. Santarosa, Lisio, and San Marzano, who a few 
 hours before had regarded their plot as abortive, now felt 
 in honor bound to support their reckless or misinformed 
 comrades, and accordingly they set out post-haste for 
 Alessandria.^ There the Carbonari, assembling in the 
 citadel, had quickly been joined by the troops in acclama- 
 tions for the Spanish Constitution and for the King, and 
 a Junta had been organized to take control of the city. 
 
 Victor Emanuel, returning from his country-seat at 
 Moncalieri, found the capital excited by the report of 
 these events, and by rumors that the revolt had been 
 caused by the threat of an Austrian intervention. The 
 King at once published an edict in which he denied the 
 rumors, and stated that the intervention of foreign troops 
 in Piedmont would only happen in case of an unauthor- 
 ized movement on the part of his subjects.^ This failed 
 to calm the feverish Turinese, for the sectaries were busy 
 haranguing and exhorting, and each hour brought news 
 of further disaffection among the troops. The whole 
 country seemed, to judge by the gossip, to be up in arms, 
 
 ^ B. Manzone, 57. ^ Text in Santarosa, 251-2.
 
 THE REVOLUTION IN PIEDMONT. 269 
 
 regiments marching hither and thither, but to what pur- 
 pose none could tell. The King and his courtiers were 
 in consternation. "There is here," writes Charles Al- 
 bert's equerry, Costa, "the astonishment of Jonah on 
 awakening suddenly in the whale's belly, and the prophet 
 doubtless showed himself more daring and inventive than 
 our poor King in seeking an outlet. They content them- 
 selves here with groaning and losing their heads." ^ Yet 
 there was something pathetic in the fidelity of the old no- 
 bles to their sovereign in his emergency. Many of them 
 seventy years old and some eighty, they put on their uni- 
 form of a bygone generation, and hastened to the King, 
 and they had their horses led within the palace inclosure 
 in order that, were it decided to charge the threatening 
 crowd, they might be lifted into the saddle by their 
 squires; outside they feared they would be too stiff to 
 mount unattended. Charles Albert was among the ear- 
 liest to offer his services, he having already visited the 
 barracks in the city in the hope that his example and ap- 
 peals might prevent the sedition from spreading. At the 
 citadel he was not listened to. A great crowd, in which 
 were many aristocratic women, surged round him as he 
 returned to the Palace. They flaunted a tricolor flag be- 
 fore him, shouted "Liberty and the Constitution," and 
 those who were nearest besought him to prevail upon the 
 King to make concessions. Thus up to the very gates of 
 the Palace they swarmed, where the guards alone liin- 
 dered them from pressing into the royal i)reseiu'e-eham- 
 ber. 
 
 There among his venerable and devoted vassals the 
 King was hesitating. He would have got on his horse 
 and rebukinl the insurgents, but the governor of tlie city 
 and the Minister of War assured liiiii that this would be 
 a useless exposure; ])ersonal courage he had, — it was 
 hereditary in the House of Savoy, — and the risk did not 
 
 ' Ik-aun-iinl. 114.
 
 270 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 frighten him, but he recognized the futility and remained 
 in his palace. What was to be done? The insurrection 
 would not subside of itself, yet where was the force to 
 quell it? The King and his faithful nobles deliberated, 
 conflicting suggestions flew out against each other, the 
 indecision increased. Charles Albert, Count Prospero 
 Balbo, and Count Valese urged that, things having gone 
 so far, it would be expedient to promise some reforms. 
 Marquis Brignole and Count Saluzzo said nothing. The 
 stubborner councilors exhorted the King not to budge, 
 and he agreed with them. 
 
 Thus two days passed; in the Palace, irresolution; 
 outside, the flood of agitation rising. Once an officer, 
 bleeding from a stone-cut in the face, entered the King's 
 cabinet and exclaimed: "Sire, give me leave, and with 
 m}^ single company I will settle this matter before I have 
 my wound dressed." Doubtless a dose of lead would 
 have quieted those feverish spirits; doubtless any show 
 of firmness would have checked the turbidence; but Vic- 
 tor Emanuel was humane, the thought of shedding blood 
 displeased him, and he would not give the word. The 
 return at this juncture of San Marzano, Minister of For- 
 eign Affairs, from the Congress at Laybach, silenced the 
 advocates of conciliation, for he reported that the Allied 
 Sovereigns were in no mood to permit Liberal conces- 
 sions, and that they would interfere in Piedmont as cer- 
 tainly as they were interfering in Naples. The IVIinister 
 of Police aggravated the alarm by repeating an unfounded 
 riimor that tliirty thousand mutinous troops were march- 
 ing on the capital, and that the militia could not be relied 
 upon.i Distracted and weary, Victor Emanuel came at 
 last to a decision — he would abdicate. Abdication is 
 the back-door by which rulers who fail to defend them- 
 selves in front hope to escape the humiliation of formal 
 surrender. 
 
 1 Pogffi, i, 340.
 
 THE REVOLUTION IN PIEDMONT. 271 
 
 On the evening of March 12 Victor Emanuel an- 
 nounced his purpose to his ministers and nobles in atten- 
 dance. Not without tears they accepted the resolve as 
 inevitable. The successor to the throne was the King's 
 brother, Charles Felix, but as he was at that moment at 
 Modena, it was necessary to choose a regent. Charles 
 Albert was designated, but he refused, — how coidd he, 
 already misunderstood and entangled, assume such a re- 
 sponsibility ? The Queen, who had always favored the 
 pretensions of her daughter, the Duchess of Modena, 
 tried to turn the King against this suspected Prince of 
 Carignano; but the King saw no other fit person. At 
 the council Charles Albert spoke earnestly against abdi- 
 cation, saying that it would be the ruin of the country, 
 and that he would never consent to serve as regent. But, 
 he wrote afterwards, "the ministers pressed me. I told 
 them that they knew that I had been for two years past 
 at odds with the Duke of Genevese (Charles Felix) and 
 that, if I accepted the regency, sinister results must fol- 
 low. . . . But all the ministers then represented to me 
 that this was the last order the King gave me, and that 
 I owed it to my country to accept, to preserve it from 
 greater ills. Then I deemed it my duty to obey."^ The 
 instrument of abdication was accordingly drawn u]i and 
 signed, but in such haste that all mention of Chailcs 
 Ft'lix was omitted. It gave to Charles Albert full autlior- 
 ity as regent, until the new king should take control of 
 the government. Victor Kmanuel stipulated, witli that 
 instinct for their material comfort wliieli even fallin'? rul- 
 ers do not h)se, that he should be paid an annual ])ension 
 of one million //;y', and should retain all the ])rivileges of 
 a king. Befon* dawn on the moi-niug of March 1;^ he 
 «[uitted the Palace with his (^ueen and daughters, on the 
 way to Nice. He was touched Ity the teai's and grief of 
 his olfi(M'rs and courtiers. l)ut the C^ueen, haughty and in- 
 
 ' IJoauref^ard, l'2'I,
 
 272 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 dignant, replied to the farewell homage of the Minister of 
 Police, "We have paid very dear, sir, for a police which 
 you managed very ill." And then the royal coach rum- 
 bled out of the courtyard and out through the city streets 
 into the country, just as the first dimness of a new day 
 glimmered along the heights of Superga. 
 
 That abdication was the one element the revolutionists 
 had not foreseen. In their calculations, Victor Emanuel 
 was to be made, willy-nilly, an accomplice; they were to 
 save him from his obscurantist advisers, and he, having 
 allowed free-play to his patriotic instinct, would some day 
 forgive and thank those who had made him king of six 
 million Italians. And now this was impossible. The 
 Regent was a turn-coat, whom every patriot suspected; 
 the new King was harsh, unpopular, stubborn, mediaeval 
 in his hostility to reform, a supposed Jesuit in his reli- 
 gion. Well might Santarosa exclaim, "O night of March 
 13, 1821 ! Night fatal to my country, that didst plunge 
 us all in squalor and hast shivered so many swords raised 
 in defense of liberty and of the fatherland, and hast dissi- 
 pated so many dear hopes like a dream. The fatherland 
 did not fall with the King, but it was for us in the King, 
 nay, incarnate in Victor Emanuel. Glory, successes, 
 triumphs, all was for us summed up in that name, in that 
 person."^ 
 
 To Charles Albert, the Regent, the embarrassment was 
 equally great. He saw that he was an involuntary sacri- 
 fice both to the monarchy and the revolution. Victor 
 Emanuel had fled, rather than yield to the forcible de- 
 mands of his people, and break his pledges, of which the 
 people were ignorant, to Austria. Charles Felix would 
 surely be quite as unyielding, and he, moreover, was at 
 present in Modena, where every wind blew from Austria. 
 What was the Regent to do? He would have preferred 
 to remain inactive, merely checking disorder, until he 
 1 Santarosa, 10.
 
 THE REVOLUTION IN PIEDMONT. 273 
 
 could receive instructions from the new King. But the 
 avalanche of revolution neither pauses, nor spares any 
 unfortunates in its track, and Charles Albert was now 
 swept along by the force he had been unable to stay a 
 week before. 
 
 In the afternoon of March 13 a crowd thronged the 
 little square in front of the Carignano palace and shouted 
 for the Spanish Constitution. The sentinels at the gates 
 were pushed into the courtyard, and several persons were 
 roughly handled; but spokesmen of the people forced 
 their way into the Kegent's presence. They entreated 
 him to publish the Constitution and thus to prevent 
 bloodshed. lie declared that he would give his life to 
 maintain the authority of the King whom he represented. 
 They spoke of liberty, of patriotism, of the great anguish 
 of their fellow-Italians that a word from him could relieve. 
 "I, too, am Italian,"' rejoined the distracted Prince. 
 The municipal authorities and other dignitaries seconded 
 the ai)])eal, by depicting the alternative of refusal, — a 
 massacre and the horrors of civil war. The Prince could 
 withstand no longer; the troops, he was told, had de- 
 serted; the insurgents controlling the citadel were ready 
 to bombard tlie city. lie therefore signed a proclamation 
 announcing that the Spanish Constitution would forthwith 
 be promulgated. But in their flurry neitlier he, nor his 
 coimcilors, nor the populace, had observed tliat the Span- 
 isli Constitution contained two obnoxious articles: first, 
 it did not rccognizii the Salic law, so that the succession 
 to the throne of Piedmont might have fallen, at the death 
 of Charles Felix, to the wife of the Duke of Modena ; 
 and, second, l)v establishing the Catliolie as the State 
 religion, it excluded other forms of worship. A\ hen 
 these i-adical defects were ])ointe(l out, there were cries of 
 "Kxpunge them I" and tliey wei'C expunged. 
 
 The next day (Alarcli 14) the Prince, his newly-fonned 
 Ministrv, and a provisional Junta composed of temperate
 
 274 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 men, took oath to abide by the amended Constitution. 
 The people now had their will, what would they do with 
 it? The Regent cautioned them to preserve order; he 
 commanded the seditious troops to return to their alle- 
 giance and to put away the Carbonaro tricolor flags which 
 had everywhere replaced the royal banner of Savoy. He 
 dispatched his equerry, Costa, to Modena, to bear a sub- 
 missive letter to Charles Felix, and to bring back the new 
 King's instructions. Meanwhile agents from the Lom- 
 bard conspirators came and urged him that all was ready 
 for a rising beyond the Ticino as soon as the Piedmon- 
 tese army should enter Lombardy. He praised their 
 patriotism, but at a second interview later in the day he 
 said that for the present he must restrict himself to form- 
 ing three camps, at Turin, Novara, and Alessandria. 
 "Let us hope in the future," were his words at parting. ^ 
 A few days later other messengers came from Milan to 
 warn that it would be madness to count on an insurrection 
 there. ^ 
 
 Too soon Costa posted back from Modena, where 
 Charles Felix had received him angrily and had refused 
 to write a word to the perplexed Regent. "Tell him," 
 said the King, "that if there still flows one drop of our 
 royal blood in his veins, he must set out for Novara and 
 there await my orders."^ To this message he added a 
 proclamation, in which he declared all the acts of the 
 Regent illegal and null, and hinted that his august 
 Allies were ready to place their forces at his service to 
 sustain the legitimacy of thrones, the fulness of the royal 
 power, and the integrity of States.^ This treatment con- 
 firmed Charles Albert's presentiments; but fearing to 
 publish the proclamation, because of the crazed condition 
 of the country, he issued instead a brief manifesto stating 
 that "the King had replied in such a way as to make 
 
 1 Poggi, i, 346. ^ Cantu : Cronistoria, ii, 186. 
 
 * Beauregard, 132. * Text in Santarosa, 263-5.
 
 THE REVOLUTION IN PIEDMONT. 275 
 
 US believe that his Majesty is not fully informed of the 
 situation of affairs in his royal dominions. We faithful 
 subjects, I the first, are in duty bound to enlighten his 
 Majesty as to the actual position and desires of his 
 people."^ This announcement failed to satisfy the 
 public; the King's peremjitory words echoed in Charles 
 Albert's mind, and like the whisperings of an Evil 
 Genius drove him to a decision : he, too, would abdicate. 
 Lacking that audacity which quells insurrection by a 
 "whiff of grape-shot," dreading a reign of terror which 
 he was incompetent to grapple with, distrusted by Royal- 
 ists and Liberals, censured by the King in whose name 
 he acted, wounded in spirit to see himself the victim of 
 a fatal misunderstanding, what else could he do but obi^y 
 Charles Felix and retire? His enemies hinted afterwards 
 that threats of assassination influenced his resolution, but 
 we may well discredit this of a prince whom physical fear 
 never swayed. Ilis duty now bade him depart, and the 
 entreaties of his advisers could not restrain him. Nevcr- 
 th(>less, in order to escape possible detention, and to pre- 
 vent a tumult, he concealed the hour of liis departure. 
 Late in the evening of March 22 he quitted the city, 
 attended by the royal body-guard, the light artillery, and 
 other troops. When he reached Novara, General Delia 
 Torre — commander of the Royalist forces — received 
 him coldly. A few days later a curt letter came from 
 Charles Felix l)idding liim to proceed at once to Tuscany : 
 "1)y your action," the King concluded, "I shall know 
 wliether you are still, or have ceased to be, a prince of the 
 House of Savoy." Charles Albert submitted, tliough 
 submission meant exile and ex])iation. His melancholy 
 journey took liim tlu-ough Milan, where he came not as 
 a liberator but as a victim whom the Austrian general, 
 Bubna, moekiu^lv addressed as the ''King of Italv: ' 
 and tlirough Modeiia, where he hoped to vindicate iiiniself 
 
 ' Text ill Saiitariisa. '2i>'>.
 
 276 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 before the King, but Charles Felix refused to see him. 
 On April 3 he entered Florence and had worse than a 
 stranger's welcome. 
 
 Meanwhile the revolutionists outside of Turin had been 
 fruitlessly active. At Vercelli and Alessandria were their 
 strongholds, but in many other towns the seditious troops 
 had raised the tricolor flag and shouted for the Constitu- 
 tion. They captured Genoa almost without bloodshed. 
 They still talked confidently of the ease with which they 
 would free Lombardy from the Austrian s as soon as the 
 word came to cross the Ticino. But it was obvious that 
 the strength of the insurrection was not increasing: the 
 middle classes held aloof from it; the peasantry had no 
 enthusiasm for a cause they did not understand. To the 
 end it remained a movement of a part of the army and 
 of the professional conspirators. Every day that passed 
 without a decisive blow chilled the lukewarm interest of 
 the waverers and emboldened the Reactionists. The 
 abdication of Victor Emanuel had shattered the pivot on 
 which success turned ; the retreat of Charles Albert took 
 away the last semblance of legitimacy from the provi- 
 sional government ; the wrath and threats of Charles Felix 
 left no doubt as to the punishment awaiting the rebels. 
 But like men who, having burned their ship, are caught 
 between the sea and an overwhelming foe, the leaders of 
 the revolution resolved to die with honor, rather than 
 ignobly to drown themselves in the impassable waters. 
 
 This resolve, the alternative of despair, was fixed chiefly 
 through the urgency of Santarosa, the ablest of the in- 
 surgents, and as disinterested as any. From Alessan- 
 dria, where he had been tirelessly organizing the troops 
 for battle, he returned to Turin just before Charles Al- 
 bert's withdrawal, was appointed Minister of War, and 
 became thenceforth the centre of energy. The Junta was 
 timid, but he did not flinch. He assumed that they acted 
 legitimately because they had been appointed by Charles
 
 THE REVOLUTION IN PIEDMONT. 277 
 
 Albert, the lawful representative of Victor Emanuel, 
 and that they were not bound to obey Charles Felix so 
 long as he was detained in an enemy's country. What- 
 ever commands issued from Modena could not be the 
 product of the new King's free-will; it was his duty to 
 return to Piedmont, where he might learn what his people 
 needed ; if he were prevented in coming, it would be their 
 duty to try to rescue him. This well-meant casuistry can 
 hardly have comforted even its author; it does not seem 
 to have deceived any one else. While Santarosa bravely 
 provided munitions for the insurgent troops, and wrote 
 orders-of-the-day full of patriotism and encouragement, 
 the Junta strove to defend the country from anarchy and 
 discussed reform laws. But now the news came that the 
 Neapolitans had been routed, that the Austrians were 
 marching unresisted to Naples, and that all hope of a pop- 
 ular rising in Central and Northern Italy had vanished. 
 To keep this a secret for more than a day or two was 
 impossible ; to hope further Avas madness. Gladly, there- 
 fore, all the members of the Junta except Santarosa lis- 
 tened to proposals of mediation from the ministers of 
 France and Kussia. Charles Felix was to be besouglit to 
 grant a full amnesty to all the Constitutionalists, to sjiare 
 the country the shame of a foreign invasion, and to pledge; 
 himself to concede a statute adapted to the needs and 
 wishes of his ])eople. The insurgents, as a guarantee of 
 good faith, were to deliver up tlie citadels of Turin and 
 Alessandria to the Koyalist (ieneral Delia Torre. But 
 wlien these terms were laid before Di-lla Torre he refused 
 them, demanding unconditional surrender.' Xotliing re- 
 mained for the insurgents but a trial of strength. Delia 
 Torre, whose forces had been incj-eased l)v gradual acces- 
 sions, prepared to niaich on Turin. Snntai'osa gave 
 orders to ])revent him ])y advancing on \ovai-a. lliere 
 was a dising(;nuous truce, which allowed time for the 
 
 1 I'.i:inclii. ii. f,:.'-}.
 
 278 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE, 
 
 Austrian vanguard to join the Royalists, and then on 
 April 8, after a brief but not wholly inglorious conflict 
 near Novara, the Constitutionalists were routed. Like 
 the Neapolitans, they learned that patriotism, however 
 brave, however worthy it may be, cannot of itself win 
 battles ; the God of War bestows victory not on the just 
 but on the best equipped', and if patriots would conquer, 
 they must have strength as well as justice on their side. 
 The routed troops dispersed : some to Genoa, whence they 
 embarked for foreign lands, and some to Switzerland; a 
 few fled westward towards France, and brought the news 
 of disaster to Turin. Santarosa would still have made a 
 last effort, but he, too, was soon convinced that the delu- 
 sion was played out; and heavy of heart he bade farewell 
 to his country forever. 
 
 As the clouds clear away, as the parching sun of Ab- 
 solutism shines again over Naples and Piedmont, we 
 catch another glimpse of Metternich, serene and Jove- 
 like, preparing to depart from Laybacli. "While mili- 
 tary operations are going on," he writes (April 13), "a 
 minister takes his holidays. The Neapolitan war gave 
 me eight days; the Piedmontese only four. Everybody 
 must acknowledge that no time has been lost." ^ When 
 the gods are thus satisfied with their work, why should 
 mortals find fault ? Can it be that men know better than 
 the Olympians what is right and necessary ? 
 
 1 Metternicli, iii, 494.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 RETRIBUTION. 
 
 Thus failed the first organized attempt of the Italians 
 to win their freedom. The failure, although comi)lete, 
 was not ignoble; the courage of many of the leaders, 
 the very audacity of the undertaking, suffice to lift the 
 revolutions in Naples and Piedmont above the reach of 
 contempt. Viewed in themselves, those revolutions were 
 calamities with scarcely a mitigating phase, for they 
 proved how easily Patriotism could be defeated, and they 
 made Tyranny more insolent than before; but viewed 
 historically, as ei)isodcs in a deep and prolonged national 
 movement, ratlier than as sudden and unsuccessful spurts, 
 they appear salutary. For what were those disasters but 
 lessons set by Adversity, the great teacher who dispels 
 illusions, who will tolerate no compromises, who rewards 
 only patiene(> and courage and strength? Henceforth 
 the issue could not be misunderstood. The conflict was 
 not simply between tlie Neapolitans and their 15ourl)on 
 king, or between the Piedmontese and Charles Felix, but 
 between Italian Liberalism and Kuropean Absolutism. 
 Santarosa and Pepe ei-ied out in their disa])i)ointment 
 that th(! just cause would have won had their timid col- 
 leagues l)een more daring, liad ])r()nuses but been kej)t ; 
 we, however, see eleaily that tliough tlie struggle might 
 have been ])i'olonged, tlie result would have been un- 
 changed. Piedmont and Naples, had each of theii- eiti- 
 zens been a hero, could not have ovei'come the Holy 
 Alliance, which was their real antagonist. 
 
 The revolutionists liad not directly attacked the Holy
 
 280 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Alliance ; they had not thrown down the gauntlet to Aus- 
 tria; they had simply insisted that they had a right to 
 constitutional government ; and Austria, more keen-wit- 
 ted than they, had seen that to suffer a constitution at 
 Naples or Turin would be to acknowledge the injustice 
 of those principles by which the Holy Alliance had de- 
 creed that Europe should be repressed to the end of time. 
 So when the Carbonari aimed at Ferdinand they struck 
 Austria, and Austria struck back a deadly blow. They 
 learned, what in their days of hope they had ignored, that 
 they had to deal with Metternich at Vienna, and not 
 alone with their local sovereign. And now, in defeat, 
 they could learn many other matters which it behooved 
 them to know. They could contrast the decisive harmony 
 amongst the powers of despotism with their own fatal 
 hesitation and dissensions. The secret societies ■which 
 had promoted the insurrection never had the great major- 
 ity of the people with them. The peasantry and artisans, 
 who composed at least half of the population, were scarcely 
 interested in the movement; like eel-grass, they were 
 accustomed to be drawn to and fro by tlie fluctuating tides 
 of government, but it made little difference to them 
 whether the tide ran in or out; rooted to the soil, even 
 their slight motions were not due to their own volition. 
 The tradespeople were timid and conservative, — that is 
 the characteristic of the well-to-do or rich. The privi- 
 leged classes, the nobles and clericals, were for the most 
 part upholders of the despotic system to which they owed 
 their privileges. That the Carbonari, Federatists, and 
 the score of smaller kindred sects, induced some nobles 
 — and those among the most intelligent and energetic — 
 to join them, and that their membership was considerably 
 recruited from among professional men, are the best indi- 
 cations of the essential worthiness of those societies. But 
 the lack of a responsible head, the cheap mysteries and 
 vague purposes, the evident desire to get strength by
 
 RETRIBUTION. 281 
 
 numbers rather than by character, the excesses committed 
 by the most unprincipled members, — all this tended to 
 discredit conspiracy before it came into action, and has- 
 tened its dissolution as soon as it began to act. A politi- 
 cal party, whose operations are public, must have leaders 
 and principles known to all its adherents and presumably 
 approved by them ; the very publicity encourages loyalty ; 
 but a conspiracy, unless it be limited to a few men, must 
 lose in efficacy in proportion as it gains in volume. Even 
 in a conspiracy whose aim is patriotic, the instinct is often 
 irresistible to aggrandize the sect at the expense of the 
 country, because the welfare of the country is believed to 
 depend upon the aggrandizement of the sect. Secrecy 
 which binds conspirators together so far as they share 
 a common danger, may, on the other hand, weaken their 
 sense of a larger personal obligation; and it gives too 
 much scope to schemes of the most audacious or the most 
 unscrupulous. When the average member discovers that 
 the forces of his lodge are being employed in the interest 
 of an ambitious Grand Master, he becomes jealous, or at 
 least lukewarm; when he finds that his own motlerate 
 views are outvoted by a majority of extremists, he be- 
 comes hostile, for no man woidd risk life and fortune to 
 join in a plot to which he was opposed. Hence c]i(iues 
 within the sect, itself a clique; hence a babel of tongues 
 and conflict of schemes, in which the loudest and the 
 most turbulent prevail. History is a prolonged refuta- 
 tion of the proverb that "in a nudtitude of advisers there 
 is safety." The Italian conspirators learned in disaster 
 that many lieads are not always better tlian one. It was 
 Hydra, and not Athene, — tlie monster of discord, and 
 not the goddess of wisdom, — whom the (J reeks pictured 
 as many-headed. 
 
 B(!sides these defects iidierent in all extensive conspir- 
 acies, — especially where the ()l)ject conspired for is not a 
 person l)ut an al)stractiou, -the Italian conspirators had
 
 282 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 to contend against special difficulties. The hereditary 
 feuds between province and province, as old as the days 
 when Guelf and Ghibelline were living watchwords, were 
 not forgotten. The recent Napoleonic upheaval, causing 
 allegiance and opinions to be quickly and often changed, 
 threw strange elements together, and split up elements 
 which had till lately been united. Above all, the dis- 
 tinctly military aspect of the revolution, both in Naples 
 and Piedmont, gave it too much the appearance of a sedi- 
 tion, rather tlian that of a popular uprising. 
 
 What, then, was gained by the patriots in their unsuc- 
 cessful endeavor? Nothing of immediate benefit, but 
 mucli which, unrecognized at first, might afterwards ad- 
 vance their cause. They had gained experience, bitter 
 indeed, but necessary. They had shown that Italians 
 could and would fight for their independence. They had 
 proved at Naples that they could govern honestly, if not 
 strongly, and at Turin that they were not the wild anar- 
 chists which all revolutionists were supposed to be. They 
 had, in a word, announced to Europe that Italians dared 
 to protest against the shameful condition of their country. 
 But their protest had not been listened to; their efforts 
 had failed, and now their punishment was terrible. 
 Through their failure Austria had become more powerful 
 than ever in all parts of the Peninsula ; the Allied Powers 
 had conceded to her the right to interfere in every pro- 
 vince ; her army had again occupied Naples ; she had at 
 last won her way into Piedmont, so long her stubborn 
 opponent. 
 
 But Austria and the Reactionists were not content with 
 simple victory; treating the revolution as a crime, they 
 at once proceeded to take vengeance. Logically they 
 were justified; but this would be a poor world indeed had 
 it no higher laws than those of partisan logic to direct 
 it to truth and justice. Your syllogism is like a loaded 
 gun, which will go off, whoever pulls the trigger; but it
 
 RETRIBUTION. 283 
 
 depends upon the aimer whether the shot hits the right 
 mark. Most of the abomiiiiitious of history — slavery, 
 polygamy, sacerdotal celibacy, the Inquisition, tyranny, 
 theological superstitions, standing armies, economical 
 fallacies like protection — have had plenty of logic, of a 
 certain kind, to defend them. In Italy in 1821, how- 
 ever, there was need of no more logic than that which 
 prompts a cat to tormeilt a mouse ; instinct and superior 
 strength sufficed to guide the avengers. 
 
 Fei-dinand, the perjured Neapolitan king, tarried be- 
 hind in Florence, whilst the Austrians went down into 
 his kingdom and squelched the patriotic army. lie was 
 too prudent a monarch to risk himself among his subjects 
 until they should be brought into a loyal frame of mind; 
 and it is a king's privilege to fight by proxies and to re- 
 ward them with titles and honors. But as soon as Ferdi- 
 nand was assured that the Austrian regiments were mas- 
 ters of Naples, he sent for that Prince of Canosa whom 
 he had been forced unwillingly to dismiss on account of 
 liis outrageous cruelty five years before, and de})uted to 
 him the task of restoring genuine Bourbon tyranny in 
 tlie Kingdom of the Two Sicilies. A better agent of vin- 
 dictive wrath than Canosa could not have been found; 
 he was troubled by no humane compunctions, nor by 
 doubts as to tlie justice of his fierce measures; to liim, as 
 to Torcpiemada, persecution was a comi)ound of duty and 
 pleasure. 
 
 Arriving at Naples, he learned that a Provisional 
 Council, appointed by the King, liad already begun the 
 work of chastisement. Every act of tlie revolutionarv 
 Parliament was anmdh'd : that "Sacred S([uadron/' wlilcli 
 had h'd tlifi revolt on the '.2(1 of .Inly and liad l)een re- 
 ceived with honor by the \ iceroy, was attainted of ti'ea- 
 son ; the riglit of assembling, no matter for what ])uii)ose, 
 being denied, the universities, schools, and Iveeunis had 
 to close; })r()scription lists wei'e hurriedly drawn up, and
 
 284 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 they contained not only the names of those who had been 
 prominent in the recent rising, but also of all who had 
 incurred suspicion for any political acts as far back as 
 1793, — a direct violation of the Treaty of Casalanza, to 
 which the king had sworn in 1815. In order to expedite 
 punishment, special Juntas of Scrutiny were created to 
 try accused civilians, and courts -martial to try officers and 
 soldiers; but what hope of justice was there from these 
 tribunals, composed, in part, of men who but a few months 
 before had been engaged in the same enterprise as the 
 victims over whom they sat in judgment? To purchase 
 pardon by turning State's evidence has been from time 
 immemorial the last resort of cowards; but it was a base- 
 ness reserved for the Bourbon government to raise rene- 
 gades to the judicial bench, where they passed sentences 
 upon their late confederates. There being no habeas 
 corpus law, arrest might be followed by long imprison- 
 ment without trial; there being no court of appeal, per- 
 petual imprisonment or summary execution depended upon 
 the caprice or prejudice or ignorance of a single judge. 
 As the accused was not allowed to confront his accusers, 
 many vile wretches made a business of informing, either 
 to earn a few crowns or to gratify a personal spite. 
 Others became Iscariots through fear. But all these 
 were mere skirmishers in advance of the army of police, 
 carabineers, and paid spies that Canosa employed in his 
 campaign of extermination. Houses were searched with- 
 out warrant; seals were broken open; some of the reve- 
 lations of the confessional were not sacred. The church- 
 bells tolled incessantly for victims led to execution. To 
 strike deeper terror, Canosa revived the barbarous tor- 
 ture of scourging in public. "At midday in the po])u- 
 lous Toledo Street a large detachment of Austrian soldiers 
 was seen, drawn up in military array ; next to them stood 
 the assistant of the executioner, who, at intervals, blew 
 a trumpet, and a little behind him more Austrians, and
 
 RETRIBUTION. 285 
 
 several officers of police, who surrounded a man naked 
 from the waist upwards, his feet bare, his wrists tightly 
 bound, and witli all the badges of the Carbonari hung 
 round his neck; he wore a tricolor cap, on which was 
 inscribed in large letters, ' Carbonaro. ' This unluippy 
 man was mounted on an ass, and followed by the execu- 
 tioner, who, at every blast of the trumpet, scourged his 
 shoulders with a whip made of ropes and nails, until his 
 flesh was stained with blood and his agony was shown by 
 his pallor, while his head sank upon his breast. The 
 mob followed this procession in silent horror. Respect- 
 able citizens fled, or prudently concealed their pity and 
 disgust. If any asked the meaning of this punishment, 
 they were told the person flogged was a Carbonaro, a 
 gentleman from tlu; provinces (and a gentleman he 
 appeared to be both in face and person), who after being 
 scourged, was to suffer the penalty of the galleys for 
 fifteen years ; and this not by the sentence of a magis- 
 trate, but by the order of the Prince of Canosa, Minister 
 of Police, who had just arrived in the city."^ 
 
 At the capital, where a large Austrian gan-ison made 
 resistance impossible, the avengers worked methodically. 
 To seize and ])unish the obscurer victims, who had neither 
 rank nor wealth to plead for tliem, was but the ])r()l()gue 
 to the tragedy ; Canosa and his minions soon brought 
 those on the scene who liad l)oth wealth and rank, wliich 
 only hastened their (h'struction. AVhen he wrote to Fer- 
 dinand to ask if he might ])nnish without discrimination, 
 Ferdinand replied, "l*unis]i." ^io one, liowever innocent 
 he knew iiimself to be, conld esca])e the dread of being 
 accused and persecuted. Many of the most ])rominent 
 of the r(!V()lutionists liad fled before the colla])Se of tlie 
 
 ' ('()llt!tt;i. ii. 4 10- 1 . I li.ivc siilislitiitcil " Aiistri.iiis " for " (H>riii:ms.'' 
 Duriiif;; the first half of flu- ('ciitiiry tlir Italians callril tliiir Xiprthcrii jmt- 
 stMiitors iiidiscriiiiiiiati'l y "" (Icriiians " or " Aiislriaiis ; " tlic latter is of 
 course the correct term.
 
 286 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 constitutional government; many who had remained, 
 trusting to their guiltlessness, now hesitated whether to 
 flee or to remain. If they fled they would be declared 
 guilty, their families would be maltreated, and their es- 
 tates confiscated ; if they stayed, they might at any moment 
 be imprisoned on a false charge. Many hid themselves. 
 In the provinces, anarchy and punishment went side by 
 side. Brigandage, recruited from the multitudes, under 
 the ban of the police, flourished again. Keckless Car- 
 bonari took swift vengeance on hated judges, or broke 
 into the prisons and liberated their companions. Woe 
 to the peaceful rustic, exposed alike to the extortions of 
 the bandits and the suspicion of the police ! 
 
 How many victims actually suifered during this reign 
 of terror we cannot tell. Canosa's list of the proscribed 
 had, it is said, more than four thousand names. The 
 prisons were choked with persons begging for trial ; the 
 galleys of Pantelleria, Procida, and the Ponza Islands 
 swarmed with victims condemned for life ; the scafl^olds, 
 erected in the public squares of the chief towns, were 
 daily occupied. And as if the political motives for per- 
 secution might fail, a religious motive was soon added. 
 The Pope declared the Catechism in common use to be 
 unorthodox. It had been compiled from the writings of 
 Bossuet, and sanctioned in 181G ; but its allusions to 
 patriotism as a duty which citizens owe to their country 
 were now pronounced dangerous. The book was pub- 
 licly burnt, and whoever was caught with a copy of it in 
 his possession was liable to be severely punished. Si:>ies 
 went about to ferret out this and other interdicted works ; 
 many persons voluntarily brought their prolnl)ited litera- 
 ture to the Piazza Medina, to be burnt by the hangman; 
 others destroyed their libraries in private. 
 
 At length, when his deputies had terrorized the country 
 into apparent submission, and when the Austrian regi- 
 ments made it safe for him to travel, Ferdinand quitted
 
 RETKIBUTION. 287 
 
 Florence and returned to Naples. His entry was mag- 
 nificent, being accompanied ''by rejoicings prepared by 
 flattery and fear." Perhaps to his perfidious soul these 
 insincere expressions were as grateful as is honest appro- 
 bation to the hearts of the sincere; but henceforth he 
 took greater precautions than ever to surround his person 
 with a strong guard ; to whet the vigilance of the police ; 
 to employ spies to watch every official, and other spies to 
 watch those spies ; to forbid every act or practice which 
 might be the germ of rebellion. He intrusted education 
 to the clergy, honored the Jesuits, bestowed pensions on 
 bishops, and was himself most assiduous in performing 
 the mmumery of worship. To Frimont, commander of 
 the Austrian army, he gave the title of Duke of Antro- 
 doco and a purse of two hundred thousand ducats ; to 
 Francis, his son and late accomplice in perfidy, lu; offered 
 no reproaches. He was as barren in mercy as in honor. 
 He spared not even those who had liad no i)art iu promot- 
 ing the revolution and wlio had come forward only after 
 he had himself ratified the Constitution. To commute 
 sentence of death into confinement in tlic galleys for lif(; 
 — a sentence worse than death — was the limit of his 
 mercy. 
 
 In the government Ferdinand adoptetl principles more 
 Absolutist than at any earlier period of his reign. He 
 appointed a council, composed of six cotinciloi-s and six 
 ministers, wlio were merely the instruments of iiis will. 
 H(^ separated the administraticm of Sicily from that of 
 the mainland. He decreed that a C'onsnlta, having eigh- 
 teen mem])ers in Sieilvand thirty in Xa])les, shonld discuss 
 the ordinances for those two ])ortions of the kingdom, 
 but without ])ower to amend or execute them ; that j>ro- 
 vincial councils should assess taxes, and that connnunes 
 should l)e less dt>pendeut on tlie central government. 
 These were the Ui'W orders. The King, by reserving to 
 himself the riyht to nominate or remove anv official, held
 
 288 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 his subjects, high or low, in the hollow of his autocratic 
 hand. The public debt, which had not increased under 
 the honest administration of the Constitutionalists, now 
 rose rapidly. The Austrian garrison had to be paid ; the 
 King must have money to lavish on foreign friends and 
 to expend on his own ostentation, and on his gifts to the 
 clergy. In Sicily the revolution smouldered and splut- 
 tered for years, in spite of remorseless efforts to stamp it 
 out; on the mainland, robberies and brigandage, and 
 outbreaks now political and now criminal, proved how 
 delusive was a security based on oppression and lies. 
 Amid these conditions Ferdinand passed the later years 
 of his infamous reign: as if repudiated by the God and 
 saints to whom he built churches, and as if even Orcus 
 itself loathed to receive him. Despised by his parasites 
 and by the princes whom he pompously entertained, and 
 hated by his subjects, he strove to banish his terror of 
 death by the follies of his buffoon, by the antics of his 
 pet bears, and by the droning of his priests. Such was 
 the king, and such the government, that the Allied Poav- 
 ers of Europe — Austria, Prussia, Russia, France, and 
 England — imposed on Naples during the fifth lustre of 
 the nineteenth century. 
 
 In Piedmont the retaliation was as effectual as in Na- 
 ples, but less blood was shed there. Delia Torre took 
 command of the kingdom in the name of Charles Felix. 
 Count Thaon de Revel displayed his loyalty by the rigor 
 of his administration in Turin ; armed with special author- 
 ity from the King, he rivaled Canosa in his implacable 
 baiting of the rebels. A special commission, composed of 
 officers and magistrates, devoted itself exclusively to in- 
 vestigating "the crimes of rebellion, treason, and insubor- 
 dination." Seventy -three officers were condemned to 
 death, one hundred and five to the galleys ; but as nearly 
 all of them had escaped, they Avere hanged in effigy ; only 
 two. Lieutenant Lanari and Captain Garelli, were exe-
 
 RETEIBUTION. 289 
 
 cuted. The property of the condemned was sequestrated, 
 their families were tormented, and the commission, not 
 content with sentencing those who had taken an active 
 part in the revolution, cashiered two hundred and twenty- 
 one officers who, while holding aloof from Santarosa, had 
 refused to join Delia Torre at No vara and light against 
 their countrymen. A second commission examined the 
 civil employees of the government, and removed many of 
 them from office, while a third took the students in hand, 
 rusticating some to distant villages, annulling diplomas 
 which had been granted during the month of rebellion, 
 and closing for a year the universities of Turin and 
 Genoa. One prelate, the Bishop of Asti, who had spoken 
 disparagingly of Absolutism, was shut up in a Capuchin 
 convent until he publicly retracted his opinions. The 
 prisons were crowded with suspects, and, as invariably 
 happens after the collapse of an insurrection, many base 
 spirits purchased pardon for themselves by denouncing 
 their late colleagues or their private enemies. Few, in- 
 deed, were the families in the upper and middle classes 
 which had not to tremble for the safety of one of their 
 members under arrest, or to mourn him wandering in 
 exile. 
 
 Charles Felix lingered meanwhile in Modena until liis 
 kingdom and army sliould be "absolutely purged."'^ As 
 the work progressed, he sent approving letters to be pub- 
 lished in the official Gazette at Turin, and he issued a 
 manifesto calling upon his subjects to submit, and warning 
 them that to mnnnur would be high treason. Tliev 
 could not refrain, however, from rebaptizing him Charles 
 Ferox, but they took care to utter the nickname under 
 their breath. The King himself liad soon reason to learn 
 the truth of a former epigram of his, "Austria is a bird- 
 lime which you cannot wash off your fingers when you 
 have once touclied it;''^ for Anstria soon showed that 
 
 • IJiaiitlii. ii, ;!41. - IJeaun.K-anl, l-M.
 
 290 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 her motive in bolstering falling monarchs on their shaky 
 thrones was not simply philanthropic nor disinterested. 
 General Bnbna, on taking possession of Alessandria, sent 
 the keys of that fortress to Emperor Francis, in order, 
 he said, — and we wonder whether there was no sarcasm 
 in his voice, — in order to give Charles Felix "the pleas- 
 ure of receiving them back from the Emperor's hand." 
 "Although I found this a very poor joke," wrote Charles 
 Felix to his brother, "I dissembled."^ How, indeed, 
 could he do otherwise? The Austrian troops, on the 
 pretext that there was danger of a counter-revolution, had 
 occupied Casale, Alessandria, and Tortona; and by a 
 convention signed by Bubna and the agents of the King, 
 it was agreed that an Austrian army corps of twelve 
 thousand men should remain in Piedmont at least until 
 September, 1822, their rations and a monthly stipend of 
 300,000 francs to be supplied by the Piedmontese gov- 
 ernment, ^ Charles Felix had in trvith become but the 
 vassal of the hereditary enemy of his line, and that not 
 by conquest, but by his own invitation. 
 
 So the summer wore away, and the King, having 
 received news that the purging had proceeded so far as to 
 make it desirable that he should return to Piedmont and 
 be crowned, prepared to leave Modena. But first, as a 
 mark of his paternal clemency, he issued an amnesty 
 (October 4), in which he granted full pardon to his guilty 
 subjects, only excluding "those who had been heads, 
 authors, or promoters of the conspiracies and tumults; 
 those in whose houses meetings had been held for revolu- 
 tionary purposes; those who, with money, flattery, or 
 promises, had shaken or attempted to shake the loyalty 
 of the troops ; those who, having charge of public educa- 
 tion, had led the youth astray; those who by writings, 
 whether printed or not, had promoted the revolution ; or 
 had been leaders, directors, or members of the Italian 
 
 1 Bianchi, ii, 68. '^ Santarosa, 283-8.
 
 RETRIBUTION. 291 
 
 Federation ; or had assumed military command, whether 
 to promote or maintain the sedition ; or had been guilty 
 of homicide, or of taking funds from the State or com- 
 munal treasuries, or of arbitrary imposition on the 
 communes or on i)rivate individuals."^ Well might the 
 Piedmontese ask if this amnesty was meant in jest, — - 
 royal humor being often unintelligible to the vulgar mind. 
 As if to make his meaning clear, however, Charles Felix 
 accompanied this edict by another in which he remitted 
 or annulled the punishment of many common murderers 
 and violent criminals as a sign of his sovereijrn benevo- 
 lence. And then, triumphal arches having been erected 
 and illuminations having been made ready, he entered 
 Turin and listened to the perfunctory congratulations of 
 his loyal officials and magistrates; but the populace, it 
 was remarked, greeted him with unobsecpiious silence. 
 
 In spite of these severe measures, Charles Felix was 
 not by nature bloodthirsty. Ilis narrow mind was pos- 
 sessed by a single idea, — that it was the divine will that 
 he should have absolute control over his subjects. For 
 them to object was heresy ; for him to yield would be to 
 disregard the divine command. Alone of all his line, 
 he lacked the soldier's instinct and territorial ambition 
 which had raised the Counts of Savoy to the small \nit 
 sturdy Kingdom of Piedmont. That ugly countenance 
 of his, with its ever-gaping nioutli, bespoke neitlier vigor 
 of will nor dignity of cliaractcr, but rather a bull-dog 
 tenacity; and, like a bull-dog, he could be good-natured 
 when he was not crossed. He adopted, therefore, the 
 policy wlu<'li seemed most likely to secure him the undis- 
 turbed play for his autocratic inij)iilscs. Thougli not par- 
 ticidarly devout, he gave full range to the rlesuits in both 
 education and public worsliip, because h(^ recognized their 
 ability in paralyzing Lil)cral sentiments and in linnting 
 down the perverse. "1 am not King to be bored," was 
 ' Turotti. i, S(»;{.
 
 292 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 a favorite saying of his ; to which we may add this other : 
 " Austria holds half a million bayonets in her pay quite 
 at my service, and I need no other troops." He spent 
 his days in dabbling in diplomacy, or in gossip; his 
 nights at the theatre; but he was not without a certain 
 condescending kindliness towards those of his subjects 
 who prostrated themselves to his authority. Under such 
 a guardian, the cause of Absolutism seemed safe in Pied- 
 mont.^ 
 
 In Central Italy, which had escaped an open revolu- 
 tion, sufficient evidence was collected to bring several 
 batches of suspects to trial. The Tuscan Grand Duke, 
 to whom the mildness of his reign had been a better pro- 
 tection than espionage and severity had been to his neigh- 
 bors, was inclined to punish the offenders so lightly that 
 Austria remonstrated. "Send me Metternich," he re- 
 plied; and in the absence of the Chancellor he pursued 
 his lenient policy. 
 
 Cardinal Consalvi and the Pope likewise chafed at Aus- 
 tria's charge that they encouraged conspiracies by not 
 taking vengeance on the conspirators. That they should 
 be so reproached was indeed strange! The Legate at 
 Forli, Cardinal Sanseverino, redeemed his own reputation 
 for energy by making wholesale arrests, and by banish- 
 ing many innocent persons without a hearing. Austria, 
 under the pretense that the Papal States were in danger, 
 left a garrison of two thousand troops at Ancona, despite 
 the protests of Cardinal Consalvi.^ The Pope, however, 
 removed all doubts as to his agreement with the monarchs 
 of the Holy Alliance by launching (September 13, 1821) 
 
 ^ Beauregard, 156 ; Gallenga, iii, 32T-9. Gallenga adds some toirches 
 to the King's portrait : " Evening after evening he sat in his box, at Genoa 
 or Nice, his favorite sojourns, leering at the dancing-girls, munching gris- 
 si?ii — the famous Piedmontese crisp-haked bread — and napping. . . . By- 
 day he hid himself in his palace, enjoying the stale fun of obscene favor- 
 ites." 
 
 ^ Bianchi, ii, 351.
 
 RETRIBUTION. 293 
 
 a biill against all secret societies, especially against the 
 Carbonari. He condemned their blasphemous ritual and 
 their sacrilegious initiations. He warned the faithful 
 against their discourses, which, he said, "seem smoother 
 than oil, but are naught else but arrows which these per- 
 fidious men use to wound more surely those who are not 
 on their guard. They come to you like sheep, but they 
 are at heart only devouring wolves." He excommuni- 
 cated not only the Carbonari themselves, but any one who, 
 kno^ving a Carbonaro, did not denounce him, or who read 
 or had in his possession any of their tracts.^ With both 
 tlie spiritual and temporal agencies of the Papacy thus 
 directed against the sects, and with Austria's troops and 
 Metternich's secret spies on the alert, the cause of Lib- 
 eralism had a more desperate outlook than ever in the 
 Roman State. 
 
 But the tyrant who most distinguished himself in these 
 orgies of retaliation was Francis IV, Duke of Modena. 
 He had, as we have seen, a restless ambition, justified in 
 ])art by forcible qualities, which found his little duchy 
 too small a stage on which to exhibit themselves. He 
 coveted the throne of Piedmont, to which, could the Salic 
 law be abrogated, his wife might succeed; V)ut not content 
 with this tantalizing possibility, he already dreamed of 
 making himself master of Northern Italy. He a('i'e])ted 
 Austria's tutelage in so far as it shielded him from otlicr 
 interference, but he was of too inij)eri()us a nature not 
 to fret at Mctternicirs di<*tat<)rial manner of giving ad- 
 vice. And now lie resolved to sliow the autocrats of 
 Europe that, since they made ])crsccution the t<'st of abil- 
 ity, he coidd out-Herod them all. 
 
 A\ hen Austrian troops had passed through ^lodenese 
 tei'i'itory on their way to suppi-ess the revobition in Xai)h's, 
 inceii(liai-v tracts had been seci'ctly circidated amoni,^ tlie 
 Hungarian soldiers, ui-giiig tlieni to refuse, at the bidding 
 
 1 This bull is ciititk-d K(cli siiint a Jtsu Christo.
 
 294 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 of their Austrian masters, to crush the efforts for freedom 
 of a people, like themselves, oppressed. The appeal failed 
 to rouse the Hungarians; but it roused the Duke of Mo- 
 dena. He had flattered himself that no conspirators 
 dared wink or whisper in his police-haunted duchy; yet 
 here was proof positive of a conspiracy. Francis, there- 
 fore, ordered many arrests, and he converted the old for- 
 tress of Rubiera, midway between Reggio and Modena, 
 into a political prison. Thither assembled a special san- 
 guinary commission charged with prosecuting the accused. 
 In no case was the trial to extend beyond eight days. 
 "The hangman will hold himself in readiness," was tlie 
 Duke's command, "and according to circumstances the 
 scaffold may be erected beforehand, and it will be ar- 
 ranged to have the priest ready to attend those who are 
 condemned." Notwithstanding these preparations for 
 dispatch, some time elapsed without noteworthy results. 
 Then it was announced that one of the prisoners had made 
 a confession implicating other citizens. Suspense brooded 
 over Modena, — suspense and wrath. At length, at dusk 
 on May 14, 1822, Sesini, the Director of Police, hated 
 as the right hand of the persecution, was stabbed by an 
 unknown assassin. Sesini, thovigh dying, deposed that 
 while he had not recognized his assailant, he felt sure it 
 was a certain Ponzoni, against whom he bore a grudge. 
 Ponzoni was arrested, and although he established an 
 alibi, and although the real assassin, Moranti, was known 
 to have escaped, he was imprisoned for nine years. Tlien 
 the bloody assizes began in earnest. The commission 
 proceeded to examine the prisoners from whom Sesini, by 
 barbarous means, had extorted confessions. One of the 
 victims, Giovanni Mariotti, had been cliained in an up- 
 right position for many days, and flogged daily until liis 
 mind gave way, and he subscribed to a deposition the 
 very contents of which he did not understand ; when the 
 judges came to pass sentence, they found him a maniac.
 
 RETRIBUTION. 295 
 
 Antonio Nizzoli, similarly tortured for forty days, had 
 still mind enough left to tell the tribunal that the reve- 
 lations which Sesini had wrung from him were false. 
 "Conti was entrapped by a forged confession attributed 
 to another prisoner; Alberici was gained by allurements 
 and flatteries ; Caronzi was persuaded by the prayers and 
 tears of his wife, whose honor was said to have been the 
 price of a fallacious promise of her husband's deliverance, 
 he being sentenced to twenty years' penal servitude, a 
 terra reduced by the Duke to fifteen. Perretti, Maranesi, 
 Farioli, and others testified to similar deceits and cruel- 
 ties, ineffectually employed against themselves; some, 
 unbeguiled by the inducement held out to them, remained 
 silent." 1 
 
 The Duke, whose vindictiveness could not be appeased 
 by the punishment of his own subjects, reached over to 
 Parma, and through Austria's agency compelled the 
 Grand Duchess to surrender several Parmese suspects to 
 be tried at liubiera. Tlie commission, which, although 
 a2)p()inted by the Duke, had still a regard for justice, 
 dared to report tliat none of the prisoners were guilty of 
 misdemeanors deserving more than a year's imprisonment; 
 l»ut Francis reversed their decision and sentenced nine to 
 death (some of wliom had fled), seven to the galleys, and 
 thirty-one to long imprisonment. Andreoli, a young 
 priest, was the only one who suffered death; tlie charge 
 against him was higli treason as a Carbonaro, but it was 
 proved that lie liad joiiu'd th(^ Carbonari in the sj)ring of 
 1820, wlu'reas the ducal decree imi)uting liigh treason to 
 any one who joined that sect had been issued on Se])tem- 
 ber 20, 1820. But to Francis a retroactive law was as 
 valid as any other. The most distinguished of tlie fugi- 
 tives who escaped execution was Panizzi, who afterwards 
 rose to be Librarian of the Puitish M- scum. 
 
 By this ri'inorseless feiocity, Francis introduced himself 
 
 ' Faj^an : Lifi' a/ Sir Anlhoni/ I'linizzi (London, T^Sl), i. ;J;J.
 
 296 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 to the autocrats of Europe as a man of action, not un- 
 worthy, in spite of the limited sphere of his activity, of a 
 place among the fiercest of them. The Italians, who had 
 sarcastically nicknamed him the "Dukeling," now showed 
 respect for his ability by calling him the "Butcher" or 
 the "Hangman." Henceforth he took no pains to conceal 
 his ambition to exercise his powers in a larger field than 
 his little duchy offered. When a proposition emanated 
 from the cabinets of Turin and Vienna, that Europe 
 should unite in shipping to America all the political 
 plotters under arrest or suspicion, Francis was one of 
 the few rulers who approved the monstrous plan.i He 
 seconded Metternich's almost equally monstrous sugges- 
 tion, that the princes of Italy should establish a sort of 
 central police station, or criminal clearing-house, before 
 which political offenders from any part of the Peninsula 
 might be haled and summarily punished ; and he hoped 
 that Modena would be selected as the site of this police 
 station, and himself as its chief jailer. He presented 
 to the Congress of Verona a memorial in which he set 
 forth distinctly the causes of the existing troubles. 
 Among these he cited the lack of religion, the diminution 
 of the clergy, the annihilation of the nobility, the subdi- 
 vision of fortunes through the abolition of the law of 
 primogeniture, the mercenaries of the army, corruption 
 of manners, evil education, the abolition of religious cor- 
 porations and of secular guilds, "which distinguish the 
 classes of men, hold them in a necessary and helpful dis- 
 cipline, and serve to keep them busy." He inveighed 
 against the too great increase in the number of govern- 
 ment employees; but above all against "the excessive 
 consideration given, without distinction of merits, to any 
 literary man ; and the excessive multiplication of all kinds 
 of ])rofessors and the excessive power and right accorded 
 to them; and the excessive facility established everywhere 
 1 Biauchi, ii, 90.
 
 RETRIBUTION. 297 
 
 for the youth to study, which makes so many unhappy 
 and discontented, because they cannot all find an occupa- 
 tion; and the excessive education given to every one, so 
 that he learns nothing thoroughly and becomes con- 
 ceited." As further causes of the epidemic of Liberalism, 
 the Duke specified laziness, intercourse with strangers, the 
 slow administration of justice, the capricious levying of 
 taxes, and the laws which hindered free traffic in provi- 
 sions. He scoffed at the idea of unitinjj the diverse ele- 
 ments of Italy into a single national bond, and maintained 
 that the way to preserve tranquillity was to foster section- 
 alism by giving to each district a government in harmony 
 with its traditions and genius.^ No doubt, when the 
 diplomats at Verona listened to this utterance of tlioughts 
 they all were thinking, they congratulated themselves in 
 having in the Duke of Modena an ally who could act 
 fearlessly and reason clearly. 
 
 The presence of Austrian regiments and the vigilance 
 of the Austrian police had thwarted the plans of the 
 conspirators in Lombardy and Venetia; for there, also, 
 many men, and among tliem many eminent in rank or 
 culture, were secretly nursing patriotic hopes. At tlie 
 time of the Neapolitan revolution, the Liberals had ex- 
 ])ected day by day the cropping out of some favorable 
 incident which should be the signal for a rising; l)ut a 
 few precautionary arr(>sts — among tliem, those of Silvio 
 Pellico, an amiable young man already known as a lyric 
 ])oet and successful playwriglit, and of Maroncclii, Lade- 
 schi, and Count Porro — warned the plotters that the 
 government was on the alert. Nevertheless, they did 
 not lose heart, and wlien the insurrection broke out in 
 Piedmont tliey dispatched messengers to Tni'in to urge 
 the Piedmontese to march into Lombardy, where the 
 Tx)nibardH would receive; them as liberators. Ibit at the 
 last moment, as we liave seen. Count Confalonieri had 
 
 ' Biaiiclii. ii, ;').")7-(')l.
 
 298 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 been obliged to send word that the Milanese were not 
 ready, and that an insurrection would be futile. So the 
 months passed without witnessing any commotion ; Met- 
 ternich's "quiet on the surface" was as unruffled as the 
 bosom of an ice-bound lake. But while the conspirators 
 were congratulating themselves at having escaped the 
 penalty of an unsuccessful attempt, or were, like Confa- 
 lonieri, burning with shame for those who had let "I dare 
 not stand upon I would," the Austrian police were noise- 
 lessly picking up evidence and here and there arresting 
 suspects. In the autumn of 1821 they established an In- 
 quisitorial Commission at Milan under the direction of 
 Salvotti, a Tyrolese as relentless as Draco, and as cun- 
 ning as he was relentless. Still, no very damaging facts 
 had been discovered, until a certain Gaetano Castiglia 
 was arrested on the suspicion of having been the bearer 
 of the dispatches to the Piedmontese. Castiglia would 
 doubtless have been released, through lack of sufficient 
 testimony against him, had not his friend, Marquis Pal- 
 lavicini, hoping to save him, appeared before the Commis- 
 sion, and announced: "Castiglia is innocent. He knew 
 nothing about the dispatches. I took them myself." 
 This generous act proved fatal. Salvotti, who had been 
 angling for minnows, suddeidy found himself in the way 
 to land larger fish. Pallavicini, impetuous and unskilled 
 in dissembling, revealed more than he was aware, and 
 then, perceiving that he had not only ruined himself, but 
 also endangered his friends, he feigned madness. But 
 this ruse did not deceive the handsome, flashing eyes of 
 Salvotti. "Give him some hen-food," he said sarcasti- 
 cally, when Pallavicini, flapping his arms and insisting 
 that he was a bird, was brought before the tribunal. 
 
 Consternation and suspense reigned at Milan. No one 
 knew what secn-ets were being extorted by the silent, im- 
 pi'rturl)al)le Commission. It was oli)served that larger 
 2n'is;)n quarters were preparing, that domiciliary visits
 
 IIETRIBUTION. 299 
 
 were more frequent, that the police had cast their drag- 
 net and taken in victims at Brescia, Venice, and Mantua. 
 Rumors, ahnost as distracting as the truth would have 
 been, flew from lip to lip, and made anxiety contagious. 
 When friend bade friend good-night, neither knew which 
 of them might be hurried to prison before morning. Con- 
 sciousness of innocence was no safeguard against dread ; 
 for the innocent and the guilty were alike exposed to 
 arrest, examination, and torture. 
 
 At last the thunderbolt fell. Milan, bewildered, heard 
 that Count Frederic Confalonieri had been seized in his 
 palace, and was now in one of the cells of the Inquisi- 
 torial Commission. This distinguished man, whose tragic 
 doom soon rang throughout Europe, belonged to an old 
 and noble family. Ilis natural gifts had been enhanced 
 by an education far superior to that which the Italian 
 aristocrat ordinarily received. In his younger days he 
 had traveled in France and England, studying the con- 
 ditions of those countries and forming acquaintance with 
 men of worth. Ilis rare culture was directed by a char- 
 acter of simple dignity and uprightness. At the downfall 
 of Napoleon he had headed a delegation of Lombards who 
 went to Paris to plead before the Allied Sovereigns for 
 an inde])cndcnt government. Failing in this, he had 
 devoted liimsclf to the improvement of liis coinitiymcn by 
 establisliing schools for mutual instruction, by introducing 
 better macliinery into the factories, by enccmraging tlie 
 adoption of gas in tlic streets of Milan, and of steani])oats 
 on the Po. He had been associated with the public- 
 s])irited men who coudncted the CoiiciJhitorc newspaper. 
 While he never concealed his ])atriotie as})irations, he 
 accepted the rule of Austria as a teni])oiaiy <'vil which 
 nuist be cured through the gi-idual advance of the Ital- 
 ians in education and integrity. lie was. in a word, 
 such a citizen, cnliglitened and i)ul)lic-spirited, as any
 
 300 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 but a despotic government would have honored.^ His 
 rank and superior qualities made him the representative 
 of the nobility; his efforts in their behalf gained for him 
 the affectionate confidence of the masses ; and when the 
 Liberals laid plots for a rebellion, he was the leader to 
 whom they turned for advice. His name was a warrant 
 of the moderation and plausibility of their efforts. How 
 far he allowed himself to be drawn into the formal pro- 
 ceedings of the sects we cannot say, but he was known to 
 have had communications with Tuscan Liberals, and with 
 Charles Albert, and to have dissuaded the Piedmontese 
 from their invasion when he saw that it would be hopeless. 
 At the time of the rising in Piedmont he had been con- 
 fined to his bed at the point of death. Months passed, 
 and he felt secure. Even the warning of Bubna, the 
 Austrian general, to Countess Confalonieri, "It would 
 be wise for your husband to travel abroad for his health," 
 did not alarm him ; either because he believed he had left 
 no traces for the police to track him by, or because he 
 feared that flight would be taken as proof of his guilt, 
 and would subject his property to confiscation and his 
 family to ruin. Nevertheless, he took care to cut a secret 
 door in the wall of his palace by which to escape in case 
 ot need ; but on that winter morning when the carabineers 
 came to arrest him, the key to the door could not be 
 found, and he was forced to give himself up. 
 
 Almost at the same time a young Frenchman named 
 Andryane, who came into Italy as a secret agent of the 
 Sublime Masters of the French Carbonari, was put under 
 arrest, and among his effects the police found papers most 
 damaging to the Italian conspirators. Other arrests fol- 
 lowed, and then ensued a long and harrowing trial. The 
 ])rosecution, conducted by Salvotti, spared no means 
 which cunning could suggest, to wring from the prisoners 
 
 ^ In the Life and Letters of George Ticknor are several interesting refer- 
 ences to Confalonieri.
 
 RETRIBUTION. 301 
 
 a confession not only of their own guilt, but of the names 
 of their accomplices. Sometimes the dazed wretch was 
 seduced into a revelation by hearing the forged deposition 
 of one of his fellows ; sometimes, after being left in his 
 dungeon for months, he was examined anew, and then 
 confronted by his former testimony; sometimes he was 
 promised pardon if he would tell what his accusers wished, 
 or his mother or wife was brought to him in the hope 
 that womanly tears and entreaties and the strong incite- 
 ments of affection would overcome his silence. The 
 Austrian code did not permit the accused to question or 
 ev5n to know his accusers ; it also denied him legal ad- 
 visers. "We are both your counsel and your judges," 
 was Salvotti's curt reply to Arrivabene, who had asked 
 for an attorney.^ But Austria had still more violent 
 means for breaking the spirit of those who were too wary 
 or too steadfast to be disconcerted by cross-examination. 
 She added physical torture to the horrors of imprison- 
 ment and to the persecution before the tribunal ; as many 
 as forty strii)es were laid every other day on the backs 
 of stubborn prisoners. "I call to mind by dozens those 
 unfortmiato wretches to whom this torture was api)lied 
 for months, both men and women," says Confalonieri. 
 "One counts 500, another 1,000, another 2,000 lashes 
 received with the interval prescribed in order to increase 
 their painfulness."^ Nevertheless, in spite of all this 
 cruelty, few, indeed, of the prisoners gave way; in all 
 but a few cases, whatever indiscreet admission was made 
 slipi)ed out tlirough unwariness rather than through an 
 ignoble purpose to escape ])unishnient by treachery. 
 
 We need not follow in detail the tedious trial of Confa- 
 
 ^ Arrivabene: Mim(yrie (Florence, ISSn), i, ()4. 
 
 - Confalonieri: Mciiwri)' v LctUri' (Milan, ISSH), i, 42, note, where ho 
 adds: "Aleuni vi hanno intcranu-nte j>er(lute le natiche, le quali dilanatc 
 ed inipiitridite dovettersi aiiiputarc ; altri ne ri7n;isero sciancate (■ mm ]iiu 
 uoinini jicr la vita ; ed i (jni jjiunti sono (juelli che pure non soeconibettero 
 sotto il hjistone ! "
 
 302 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 lonieri and his fellow-victims. From the first, conviction 
 was certain, and the pretended adherence to legal forms 
 but a mockery. Salvotti's intent was to implicate other 
 conspirators, but in this he failed. December came, and 
 it was known that the evidence against the prisoners had 
 been forwarded to Vienna for the Emperor to pass sen- 
 tence upon them. The guarded hints of Austrian offi- 
 cials left no doubt that the sentence would be death. 
 Then Countess Confalonieri, accompanied by her aged 
 father-in-law and her brother, secured passports in spite 
 of Salvotti's hindrance, and posted to Vienna. Day and 
 night that coach with its agonized occupants did not rest : 
 on it sped over the Aljjs, on through bleak Carinthia, on 
 through the valleys of Styria, till at last it reached the 
 Austrian capital. The Countess first visited the Em- 
 press, whose heart was touched and who promised to 
 intercede for her ; then she had an audience of the Em- 
 peror himself. But how could she touch the heart of 
 that frigid, self-complacent, little man, who bluntly re- 
 plied to her supplication, "Madam, your husband is the 
 most dangerous fellow in Italy. Were our positions re- 
 versed, how woidd he have treated me?" Still, the 
 decree had not yet been signed, there might still be hope 
 of turning the Emperor's decision towards mercy. She 
 saw Prince Metternich, who was polite, but told her that 
 he had no power to help her; she saw the Duchess of 
 Parma, who gave her sympathy. But the days flew by, 
 and she had no relief from suspense. Then she was sum- 
 moned before the Emperor again. "Madam," he said, 
 "as a special mark of my good-will towards yovirself, I 
 inform you that a courier has already been dispatched 
 with a sentence of death for your husband. If you wish 
 to see your husband still alive, I advise you to quit 
 Vienna immediately." At these cruel words. Countess 
 Theresa fell in a swoon. ^ When she was restored to con- 
 
 1 Poggi (i. 407) says that the Countess had no audience with the Em-
 
 RETRIBUTION. 303 
 
 sciousness, after a brief, sobbing interview with the Em- 
 press, she and her stricken relatives took coach again and 
 posted back. On the second day of their journey the 
 father, too ill to proceed, had to be left behind; the sister 
 and brother went on, desperately, sleeplessly, traversing 
 those snow-blocked roads, asking at each station news of 
 the courier who had started many hours before them. 
 And so they repassed the Alps, and galloped over the 
 milder plains of Lombardy, and reached Milan. The 
 courier had not yet arrived. Fortunately, he had been 
 delayed by the breaking of his carriage, and before the 
 sentence he bore could be executed a second messenger 
 came, bringing a respite which Francis had granted at 
 the entreaties of the Empress. A respite, — but for how 
 long? No one knew. But hope revived, and again 
 Casati, Theresa's brother, set out on that journey to 
 Vienna, — that Via Crucls, — taking with liim a petition 
 signed by the Viceroy and the Archbishop, by the clergy 
 and nobility, beseeching the Emperor to be merciful. 
 
 Such being the suspense, the agony of their friends out- 
 side, who shall tell the condition of the prisoners them- 
 selves, who had not even physical liberty, nor power of 
 action, nor compassionate voices to direct or to comfort 
 them? Judges and jailers gave them not a hint of what 
 they might expect. The death-watch was stationed over 
 them, — at last they need suffer no more sus])t'use. At 
 one o'clock on the morning of January 21, 1824, they 
 were removed from their cells to the cliapel in tlie Pahu'i; 
 of Justice, where condemned prisoners passc<l thi' last few 
 liours before execution. Tliere several of these men who 
 were involved in a single calamity spoke to each otlier 
 
 peror, and cites the Countess's brother .is witnes.s. I h.ive foHowed the 
 at'cotint which she lierself gave Andryane's sister, iiniiiediately after re- 
 tiimi!!^ from Vienna. (See Andryane : Memoirs of a I'risouer of Stall.) 
 All a<'countsa<jree that the Kni[)i>ror s.aid siihstantially what 1 have (pioted ; 
 but whether he said it to Theresa or to her father-in law is the point in 
 dispute-
 
 304 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 for the first time. Conf alonieri, who had been for months 
 at the point of death from heart-disease, had to be helped 
 in by gendarmes and hiid fainting on a cot-bed. When 
 he had recovered sufficiently, he held out his hand to his 
 fellow- victims. Pallavicini, whose rashness had brought 
 them all to this strait, asked and received forgiveness. 
 Presently officers came and led them to another room, 
 where the Inquisitorial Commission was assembled. Next 
 to the President sat Salvotti, whose black hair and flash- 
 ing eyes made his always pale face seem paler in the lamp- 
 light. The Secretary read the sentences. Confalonieri, 
 guilty of high treason, was condemned to death ; but, the 
 Secretary added, after a pause, "the capital punishment, 
 by the inexhaustible clemency of his majesty, has been 
 commuted to imprisonment for life in the fortress of Spiel- 
 berg," To Andryane a similar doom was allotted; Pal- 
 lavicini, Borsieri, and Castiglia were condemned to twenty 
 years' solitary confinement, and Torrelli to ten years'. 
 But their ordeal was not yet ended for that day. Smiths 
 came and riveted chains on their legs, and then they were 
 led bareheaded out in the wintry air to the pillory erected 
 against the walls of the palace. Confalonieri was so weak 
 that he had to be supported ; and all the time he dreaded 
 lest the multitudes assembled in the square, and the Hun- 
 garian troops who hemmed them in, should mistake his 
 physical weakness for cowardice. The sentence and com- 
 mutation were read from a balcony, and then the victims 
 were taken back to their cells, to await their departure 
 for Spielberg. 
 
 On his way thither Confalonieri had a memorable in- 
 terview with Metternich at Vienna. The Chancellor came 
 out of breath into the room assigned to the prisoner, and 
 chaffed him for lodging so high up. Then, assuming a 
 more serious tone, he discussed at great length the Ital- 
 ian revolutions and their failure. The strusfijle between 
 ojiposiug and irreconcilable principles had been decided,
 
 RETRIBUTION. 305 
 
 "and decided," he said, "not only for ours, but for many, 
 many generations." He spoke with that air of candor 
 which he could so well simulate. He became confidential. 
 He hinted that, now that the crisis had passed, Confa- 
 lonieri could do no better than confess that he had been 
 led astray into treasonable acts through miscalculating the 
 resources of Liberalism. Let them talk freely, as gentle- 
 men who knew each other too well to wish to deceive each 
 other. Any admission that Confalonieri might make 
 could not possibly harm him ; it might, on the contrary, 
 help to melt the Emperor's sternness. As a hawk, which 
 has soared high, turns earthward in contracting spires 
 before swooping on his prey, so the astute Chancellor 
 circled a long time round the real purpose of his inteview, 
 which was to secure proofs of Charles Albert's complicity 
 in the revolution. He was too wily to put the question 
 point-blank. " We have examined more than a hundred 
 and fifty persons and spent more than a million and a 
 half, and with what results? We have only convicted 
 yourself, and three unimportant conspirators. Of mem- 
 bers without a head there are examples, but a head with- 
 out members is an absurdity. When we come to you and 
 to all those who are nearest to you, everything is dark, 
 and but for the ingenuousness of an inexpert youth, who 
 was certainly not in your secret, all would perha]w have 
 remained dark forever." But Confalonieri protested that 
 he had nothing more to disclose than he had already told 
 at liis trial. Then M(»tternich touched another chord : 
 "Your conduct has been by your own evidence confused 
 and irrational; yet we know that you are a man of l»igh 
 intelligence, — tliat you do not act without deliberation 
 and clear motives. Sun'ly you will not consent to re- 
 main before tlie world in tliis absurd ])ostur«', wliich de- 
 tracts from your reputation of reasonaltleness ! " Still 
 Confalonieri I'csisted; evi-n this appeal to his vanitv could 
 not move hiui. It was suggested tliat lie miglit prefer to
 
 306 thj: dawn of Italian independence. 
 
 make his revelations to a more August Personage, but he 
 replied that, as he could only repeat to the Emperor what 
 he had said to the Chancellor himself, the interview would 
 be unnecessary. Then Metternich, having exhausted his 
 arts, looked at his watch, found that more than three hours 
 had been spent in his fruitless visit, remembered that he 
 had an engagement at a ball, "and took his leave with 
 that amiable urbanity which he had shown throughout the 
 whole conversation."^ 
 
 Two days later Gonfalon ieri set out for the fortress of 
 Spielberg, which frowns over the city of Briinn, the cap- 
 ital of Moravia. Infamous Prison of Spielberg, your 
 name shall still be loathsome among men long after the 
 Austrian State shall have been dissolved forever ! Nature 
 may hide with wild-flowers your crumbled foundations; 
 children may play among your ruins ; yet shall the mem- 
 ory of the crimes against humanity committed within 
 your walls come back to plague the conscience of Europe ! 
 In history you shall loom up as a monument to the 
 tyranny of Metternich and his Hapsburg master, as the 
 Bastille looms up in condemnation of the wickedness of 
 the Bourbons. 
 
 It is not because many Italian prisoners suffered on 
 the Spielberg, — they numbered but a few score alto- 
 gether, — nor because Austria was not justified from her 
 standpoint in punishing political agitators ; it is because 
 she employed means that were base, torments as inhu- 
 man as they were needless, that we condemn her. She 
 sullied her hand in persecutions so foul that all the per- 
 fumes of Arabia could not sweeten it. She played with 
 her victims as a cat with a mouse, biting, harrying, but 
 not killing. If tliere must be, let th(;re be capital pun- 
 ishment; have off the head by guillotine, or break the 
 neck by hanging; and then say justice has been appeased 
 with as little inhumanity as possible ; but, after having 
 
 ^ Confalonieri, i, l.")!")-??.
 
 RETRIBUTION. 307 
 
 shackled your enemy to the wall of a filthy, cramped dun- 
 geon, to starve him by inches, to corrupt his soul by 
 lying confessors and spies, to reduce his mind to idiocy, 
 — this is not justice, but the malicious cruelty of the cow- 
 ard and the brute. And of all this. Emperor Francis, 
 your pettifogging soul was guilty ; this was your " inex- 
 haustible clemency," this was your sanctimonious regard 
 for the spiritual welfare of even your erring subjects ! 
 
 For, in truth, the Emperor took the treatment of the 
 political prisoners under his especial charge. In his 
 writing-desk he kept a plan of their cells, and received 
 minute reports of their condition. Not so much as a 
 coarse coverlid could be given to one of them unless the 
 permission were granted by him. He canceled their 
 names, and referred to them only by numbers; so that 
 the superintendent of the Spielberg received from his im- 
 perial master such messages as these : " Diminish Number 
 Ten's ration of beans," or "Allow Number Seven coffee 
 once a month." lie denied them books, even their 
 prayer-books. "You have sinned by your intellect; by 
 your intellect you shall suffer," was his decree. But when 
 he found that several of them were being driven to insan- 
 ity through this enforced idleness, he commanded that 
 rags from tlie hosi)ital be furnished them to pick. Later, 
 as a sign of his favor, tliey were given yarn and needles, 
 and bidden to knit stockings or mittens, wliicli were sent 
 to him. In looking them over, if a heel were not well 
 rounded or a thumb well joined, he took it as proof that 
 the knitter was still refractory, and liad him threatened 
 with severer punishment. This man was not a poor lout- 
 isli turnkey, but liis A])ostoli(' Majesty, Franeis the 
 First, by the grace of (iod, Finix-ror of Austria, King 
 of Hungary and Bohemia, the nionarch u})on whose wis- 
 dom the fate of thirty millions subjet-ts depended, the 
 arbiter of Enrope! Poor Fnro})eI 
 
 To rehearse the story of the misery undergone by tlie
 
 308 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 prisoners of the Spielberg, it is not here required. That 
 story, written in their blood, has been told by several of 
 the survivors. In the pages of Pellico, Maroncelli, An- 
 dryane, and Confalonieri, whoever so wills can read how 
 some of the noblest men of Italy were subjected by the 
 Austrian emperor to torments which he deemed too cruel 
 for common murderers; how their bodies, fed only on 
 nauseating slops, wasted; how their reason tottered, worn 
 out by sleeplessness and lack of mental food; how the 
 priest Paulovich was sent to entice revelations from them 
 at the confessional; how they learned to communicate 
 with each other by tapping on the walls of their cells ; 
 how they strained their ingenuity to devise means for 
 writing; how decoy prisoners were stationed with them to 
 draw their confidence in unguarded moments; how Con- 
 falonieri was twice on the point of escaping, and twice 
 frustrated; how Maroncelli, after months of suffering, 
 had his leg amputated; how a man like Pellico, whose 
 literary work was already the delight of thousands, was 
 reduced to watch spiders spinning their web ; how in spite 
 of outrages worse than death, in spite of the terrible 
 temptations to purchase liberty by betrayal, their honor 
 and fortitude stood firm to the end. These thinsfs man 
 recorded, and Nemesis did not forget. Little could those 
 passive sufferers foresee that their very captivity would 
 contribute to the liberation of their country. Little did, 
 the sleek Metternich imagine that for every day's agony 
 of each prisoner in the Spielberg, he was raising up in 
 Italy a score of irreconcilable patriots, whom all the 
 blandishments of Austria could not seduce, nor all her 
 menaces terrify. 
 
 But as yet the day of reckoning was still distant, and 
 only believed in by those who do not lose faith in Neme- 
 sis when its reprisal is not immediate. Metternich and 
 the European sovereigns had met in Congress at Verona 
 late in 1822, and after congratulating themselves on the
 
 RETRIBUTION. 309 
 
 ease with which the "genius of evil " had been suppressed 
 in Naples and Piedmont, they gave their tacit approval 
 to Austria's interference in Italy. One of the important 
 matters they had to settle was the succession to the throne 
 of Piedmont. Charles Albert, the heir presumptive, had, 
 through his implication in the late revolt, roused the vio- 
 lent hatred of the actual king, Charles Felix, and revived 
 Metternich's hope of transferring the crown to the Duch- 
 ess of Modena. The unfortunate prince, condemned by 
 the Absolutists as a Liberal and despised by the Liberals 
 as a renegade, dwelt in disgrace at Florence, trying to 
 show, by his submissive conduct and quiet life, — broken 
 only by occasional gallant escapades, — how deeply he 
 repented him of having given any cause for misunderstand- 
 ing. But Charles Felix was one of those who mistake 
 their prejudices for manifestations of the moral law, and 
 it was hard to convince him that his resentment was out 
 of all proportion to the young man's faults. "I do my 
 utmost," he wrote, "to keep him safe, until such time as 
 it may please the Divine Goodness to operate in him a 
 miracle, which will certainly be very great and very diffi- 
 cult to prove : for even if he should luidergo the penance 
 of an anchorite and even draw blood, it would not be cer- 
 tain that his conversion were sincere." Although only 
 good reports came of the penitent, still the King was un- 
 moved. "I think," said he, "that the Prince of Cari- 
 gnano's big moustaclies indicate the Carbonaro rather than 
 the Convert. God alone sees the heart. He may have 
 wrouglit the miracle of liis conversion, but He has not yet 
 wrought in me that of being convinced of it."^ There 
 was, nevertheless, one tiling more repugnant than Charles 
 Albert's Liberalism to Charles Felix: and that was the 
 ])rospcct of Piedmont's ])assing out of the control of the 
 House of Savoy. At the most, he would liavi' jirovided 
 for a regency to govern at his death until Charles Al- 
 
 ' Biuiu'lii, ii, 1 13.
 
 310 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 bert's infant son, Victor Emanuel, should grow up. But 
 the views of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, of the French 
 king, and the Czar, at length prevailed witli him; he 
 agreed that the young prince should be forgiven and 
 acknowledged as heir to the throne. Metternich, when 
 he saw that he coidd not carry through his scheme in 
 behalf of the Duchess of Modena, did not press it, but he 
 exacted that Charles Albert should secretly pledge him- 
 self in no wise to alter the form of government in Pied- 
 mont if he ever became king. Alone among the ambas- 
 sadors at the Congress, Wellington deemed it unfair thus 
 to foreclose the future of a possible sovereign. ^ 
 
 Shortly afterwards the French Bourbons, to win a little 
 of that military glory which keeps Frenchmen talkative 
 and manageable, organized an expedition to Spain, to 
 restore to the Spanish king that autocratic power of 
 which he had been deprived by the Constitutionalists. 
 Austria had stifled Liberalism in Italy; France could 
 do no less in Spain. Charles Albert had permission 
 granted him to join the French staff, and by a campaign 
 againt rebellious Spaniards to expiate his own unlucky 
 connections with a rebellion. He distinguished himself 
 at the storming of the Trocadero, — the only serious skir- 
 mish of the war, — which effected the release of King 
 Ferdinand, who, while shut up in Cadiz by the Constitu- 
 tionalists, had spent his time in- flying kites, and who 
 now made a triumphal progress back to his capital, 
 accompanied by thirty-eight cooks and the French heroes. 
 The glory achieved was tawdry enough, — the rescue of 
 Ferdinand, with his kites and his cooks, seems but an 
 Aristophanic joke; but the French Bourbons took care 
 to advertise themselves as mighty men of war, and they 
 hoped that the capture of the Trocadero would dim the 
 troublesome splendor of Marengo and Austerlitz. Let 
 Bonapartists cease to boast of their Napoleon, — the 
 
 1 Wellington to Canning, Nov. 29, 1822.
 
 RETRIBUTION. 311 
 
 Bourbon Duke of Angouleme was a very God of War. 
 The chief interest of this campaign lies for us in the fact 
 that it served to rehabilitate Charles Albert in the eyes 
 of the European oligarchy. Although some of them still 
 distrusted him, they could no longer give a decent ex- 
 cuse for excluding him from the Piedmontese throne; 
 that he was not excluded had, as we shall see, a tremen- 
 dous influence upon the destiny of Italy. 
 
 Such was the vengeance taken by the despots on the 
 unsuccessful Italian revolutionists of 1820-21. The issue 
 was now plain : the Liberals had not only their respective 
 princes against them, but also all the might of Austria, 
 behind whom loomed the other partners to the Holy 
 Alliance. The odds were as desperate as the collapse 
 had been complete, and they might well teach caution if 
 they did not justify despondence. But this very baptism 
 of suffering was to prove regenerative. Only after men 
 have learned to prize their ideal more highly than their 
 comfort, or than life itself, are they equipped to win their 
 ideal. In those days of sorrow, the Italians began to 
 realize that the precious liberty and independence for 
 which they yearned must be paid for in sacrifices and 
 heroism equivalent to the full value of those blessings.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 UNDERCURRENTS, 1820-30. 
 
 We have thus witnessed the first conflict between the 
 New Spirit and the Old Spirit: the former proclaiming, 
 Italy shall be ; the latter replying, Italy shall never be. 
 The two ideas, having seethed a long time in many heads, 
 have got into the hands, have met, have clashed, and the 
 Old Idea has conquered. The thought first, then the act, 
 
 — that is the invariable sequence; and as acts are out- 
 ward, they express themselves by material forces. Cher- 
 ish what aspirations you will, they remain aspirations, — 
 mere pretty dreams and sterile fancies, — unless you 
 realize them by mastering the physical forces which 
 would prevent them. Is it a statue your imagination has 
 conceived? Yovi must make your hand harder than the 
 marble. Is it a bridge or building? It will lie 2^f^rdii in 
 your brain until you have overcome the hostility of grav- 
 itation. Is it a law? It will be a dead-letter in the 
 statute book unless you have convinced a majority of 
 your countrymen that they ought to abide by it. Or 
 have you beheld, as in a vision, a great reform in gov- 
 ernment or church? You must vanquish the duluess, the 
 conservatism, the greed, the timidity of society, or these 
 will destroy you. This is the elemental tragedy of life, 
 
 — the Ideal striving to utter itself, to realize itself, in 
 the material world, where Force seems often hopelessly 
 against it. And Force unguided by the higher lieason, 
 
 — how brutal, how pitiless it is! In mankind, as in 
 nature, we see its tempests and volcanic outbursts, its 
 seasons of long drought, its blight and mildew, — as then
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 313 
 
 in Italy. But from Force there is no appeal, except to 
 greater Force, for the gods will not allow that an ounce 
 outweigh a pound, either in the physical or the moral 
 world : they demand deeds, not intentions. 
 
 The Italians, massing what power they could, had been 
 overmatched. Had it been only a duel between them 
 and the King of Naples, or the King of Piedmont, they 
 would have had an easy victory ; but it was more than 
 that, — it was a duel between them and Austria, and 
 Austria had twenty units of force, better drilled, better 
 armed, and better captained, to every one of theirs. And 
 behind Austria was the organized Old Regime through- 
 out Europe. 
 
 Evidently, in order that Italy's independence should 
 be attained, two things must come to pass : first, a major- 
 ity of the Italians themselves must will it, and be strong 
 enough to use it; second, Europe must consent to it. 
 The former requisite, which must precede, could be 
 brought about only by patriotic education; the latter 
 depended upon a happy combination of the ever-turning 
 cogs of di})l()macy. Thus far we have watched the men 
 of action, who hoped tlirough conspiracy and a sudden 
 show of force to free Italy. But their strength was inad- 
 equate, and they failed as much in i)ersuading many of 
 their soberer countrymen to join them as in ousting their 
 despotic monarchs. Now we have to examine the work 
 of tlie tliinkers, whose influence, tliough indirect and less 
 easily gauged, was far-reaching and indispensable. 
 
 If we analyze the thought of the eighteenth century, 
 we sliall find that it had two distinct i)hases, — the one 
 skeptical and destructive, the other affirmative and con- 
 structive. Locke and Hume liad luirried on pliiloso])hy 
 to its last negation. Voltaire and the Encyclopa'dists 
 liad peered with sai'castic eyes into the institutitms, beliefs, 
 and custcmisof society, and liad siiown them to be abusive 
 or absui'd. Those ])liilosophic critics spared notiiing, — ■
 
 314 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 revealed religion, the pomp and ignorance of the Church, 
 the absolutism of kings, the insolence and injustice of 
 the privileged classes, — all were stripped of their gala 
 costume. Feudalism stood there naked and ridiculous. 
 Satires are successful only when the evil they attack has 
 begun to wane : chivalry had become an affectation before 
 Cervantes wrote "Don Quixote; " the search for the Phi- 
 losopher's Stone was abandoned by all but quacks when 
 Ben Jonson wrote "The Alchemist;" and so Feudalism 
 must have been far gone in decay, ere even Voltairean 
 sarcasm could have affected it. The very centre of that 
 tottering system, Louis XV saw that it was doomed, but 
 he consoled himself with the reflection that it would at 
 least endure for his lifetime. But decay presupposed a 
 new growth ; and just as philosophy and satire seemed to 
 have destroyed everything wherein mankind trusted, — 
 leaving the world barren of faith in God and reverence 
 for man, a waste where the nettles of persiflage flourished, 
 but neither flowers budded nor fruits ripened, — there 
 sprang up a new growth of regenerating ideas. In philo- 
 sophy this new spirit embodied itself in the works of Kant. 
 Briefly stated, his message was this : Each individual soul 
 emanates from the Universal Soul; whatever hampers its 
 free intercourse with and expansion into the Universal 
 Soul, weakens it and leads it astray. Crystallize this 
 doctrine to its ultimate meaning and you have the single 
 word Liberty; liberty of conscience for the worshiper, 
 liberty of person for the citizen, liberty of utterance for 
 the thinker. But these were heresies against that Feudal 
 System in which churches interposed their creeds between 
 the worshiper and God, in which kings might do their 
 will with their subjects, and in which inquisitors and 
 censors decided what might be uttered. 
 
 Kant wrote the philosophy of this new era, but long 
 before his thoughts were generally understood, the Spirit 
 of Liberty had announced itself through the deeds of
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 315 
 
 men; and first of all in government, which, touching 
 society in its daily practical life, seemed most to require 
 readjustment. Rousseau felt the presence of the new 
 spirit and bore witness to it in words full of emotion; the 
 American colonists obeyed it, and from their obedience 
 was born a mighty republic ; then the French, made de- 
 lirious by the vision of freedom, would have cut them- 
 selves off forever from the tyrannical Past by one stroke 
 of revolution. The modern political doctrines of civil 
 equality and a representative franchise were thundered 
 over Europe from the cannon's mouth; once proclaimed, 
 they could not be silenced. 
 
 Less noisy, but not less momentous, was the change 
 which slowly permeated Religion. The ancient arks of 
 faith, launched when the sea was placid, were now water- 
 logged and barnacled to the point of foundering ; but if 
 any one suggested that to save the ships they must jetti- 
 son the cargo of dogmas and traditions, each stubborn 
 connnander replied, "Throw over every passenger that 
 talks of Reason." So the wise took to the life-boats, 
 leaving that fleet of orthodoxy where we still see it, tlie 
 pennons of worn-out creeds dangling at the masthead, 
 the sails torn, the water rising in spite of the men at tlie 
 pumps; sodden, battered hulks, they are driven by winds 
 and tides, in mutual danger of collision. A strange spec- 
 tacle to all ; bewildering and terrible to any who believe 
 that when those leaky vessels sink, as sink they must, 
 they will carry to the bottom with them that without which 
 there can be neitlier religion nor virtue, neither liope nor 
 love among men! As if s])iritual truth could be kept 
 afloat only l)y the doctrinal life-preservers of Calvin's or 
 A()uinas's ])atent! 
 
 In Italy the new Sj)irit of Liberty manifested itself, as 
 we have seen, in the fi-ustrated revolutions; it also vainly 
 strove to ])enetr:ite the thick crust of theoloiiy, — the 
 Church insistinir that reason nuMut treason; but it found
 
 316 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 literature more plastic, and through literature it began to 
 unfold itself. The writers who were the mouthpiece of 
 this new influence were but half conscious of their mis- 
 sion; they would have said that they simply followed na- 
 ture and common sense, and they would have pointed to 
 the recent examples which Germany, England, and France 
 had furnished, as evidence that they were in first-rate 
 company. 
 
 The struggle between Romanticism and Classicism 
 which was the result of the clashing of the Old and the 
 New Spirit belongs, in so far as it was a literary quarrel, 
 to the history of literature ; but in Italy it was so bound 
 up with the general cause of Liberalism that it needs to 
 be mentioned here. The Italian mind had to be liberated 
 from the tyranny of ancient and mechanical literary dog- 
 mas, not less than the Italian body had to be freed from 
 political fetters. The conventionality of centuries had 
 reduced Italian literature till it had become soulless, but 
 pompous, like the popular religion. Even the most con- 
 spicuous of its recent contributors, Alfieri, had cast his 
 tragedies in the old classic matrix, which was like the bed 
 of Procrustes; he read Shakespeare often with admira- 
 tion, he tells us, but not without "distinguishing most 
 clearly all of Shakespeare's defects," which he took care 
 to avoid by obeying Aristotle's formula about the Unities. 
 
 It was in the drama that the intellectual war of in- 
 dependence was first waged. Niccolini and Pellico in 
 their early plays broke away, although with some hesita- 
 tion, from rigid Classicism; then Manzoni brought the 
 strength of his genius to the cause of Romanticism. The 
 older generation of writers, led by the facile Monti, fought 
 bitterly. They abused, they ridiculed the innovators; 
 they indicted them as heretics, for the three Unities laid 
 down by Aristotle were as sacred as the sacraments in- 
 vented by the Church. To put in a plea for nature, to 
 cite the unexampled richness of the Elizabethan drama.
 
 UNDEliCURRENTS. 317 
 
 to appeal to the recent achievements of Schiller and 
 Goethe, only exasperated the upholders of the antique 
 school. Nevertheless the Romanticists gradually pre- 
 vailed. 
 
 But while they were emancipated in the form, they 
 were still hampered in the substance of their dramas. In 
 Italy, as in France, the theatre was not merely a place in 
 which to while away a tedious evening ; the stage was a 
 platform on which the public issues of the hour might be 
 artfully presented ; it was a substitute for the hustings, 
 and for an ungagged press, in free countries. Therefore 
 it was strictly watched by the censors and the police. The 
 playwright, if he had a patriotic idea, must disguise it 
 so that it might escape the eyes and scissors of the ex- 
 purgators. And if the author sometimes outwitted his 
 critic and excited an audience by some forbidden senti- 
 ment, more frequently the censors construed his harm- 
 less lines as treason, and suppressed them. In spite of 
 these checks, a dramatic literature sprang up, and, what 
 is more, it was saturated with Liberalism. Niccolini, 
 Pellico, Manzoni, and others, while keeping within the 
 letter of the law, infused their patriotic spirit — they 
 coiild not help infusing it — through all their plays. 
 They chose episodes in the past history of Italy, and so 
 treated them as to make tliem serve as indirect comiuen- 
 taries on the existing political situation, and especially as 
 strengtheners of the budding national spirit. Konianti- 
 cism everywhere sought tlie unusual and the picturestpie, 
 by which it might express that new passion which 
 rebelled against the commonplace and ])rosai(^ by which 
 life was actually hcnnned in. It studied history with a 
 zest hitherto unknown, and among all the historic pcM-iods 
 the mediaeval was its favorite, Ix'cause that otYeicMl the 
 striking contrasts, the glow of legend, the large l>lay of 
 passion, and the richness of costume, wherewith the im- 
 agination could work unrestrained. Hence the seeming
 
 318 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 paradox that a literary movement which marked the dis- 
 solution of Feudalism should have devoted itself to the 
 glorification of the feudal world. The European oli- 
 garchs smiled on the Romanticists so long as these, by- 
 poem or romance or history, invested with fascination 
 the rugged fighters and robber barons from whom the 
 royalties and aristocracies of Europe were descended. 
 Absolutism had nothing to fear from antiquarian squab- 
 bles over the origin of the Italian language and the 
 propriety of using any word which had not the sanction 
 of a fifteenth century writer. Lamartine called Italy 
 "the Land of the Dead," and if the purists could have 
 had their way, they would have made the Italian a dead 
 language. But Romanticism wrought its own cure; a 
 deeper study of mediaeval society, by dissipating the halo 
 of romance, laid bare the very unpoetic methods by which 
 kings had come to assert their divine right, the Church 
 had grasped its worldly possession, and the privileged 
 classes had heaped up their wealth. 
 
 The first conscious purpose of the Italian Romanticists, 
 however, was to recall to their countrymen great scenes 
 and striking personages from the past of Italy, with the 
 inevitable result of stimidating the spirit of nationality. 
 Indirectly, their dramas served, as I have said, as politi- 
 cal allegories. Niccolini (1782-1861) began his career 
 with the Classicists, and after their fashion he remodeled 
 the stories of "Medea," of "Agamemnon," of the "Seven 
 at Thebes," and of "Polyxena; " but, while he held aloof 
 from the literary quarrel which soon raged, he became in 
 practice a Romanticist, as in politics he was a Republi- 
 can. In his later and stronger tragedies, "Antonio Fos- 
 carini," "John of Procida," and "Arnold of Brescia," he 
 was thoroughly Italian, using the themes which his his- 
 torical study supplied him as texts by which to illustrate 
 the iniquity of church and tyrants, and the surpassing 
 beauty of patriotism and liberty; he preached so elo-
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 319 
 
 quently that even in Tuscany the censors frowned upon 
 his plays. Silvio Pellico (1789-1854), in genius less 
 robust, became through misfortune more famous than 
 Niccolini, and he had already won reputation by his ro- 
 mantic play, "Francesca da Kimini," before he was seized 
 by the Austrians and immured in the prison of Spielberg. 
 But greater than these, and greater than any other con- 
 temjjorary Italian author, was Alexander Manzoni (1785- 
 1873), one of the few masters in the world-literature of 
 the nineteenth century. 
 
 At first sight Manzoni 's literary product seems singu- 
 larly small ; the best — a few lyrics, two dramas, and a 
 romance — is contained in two small volumes. Compare 
 that with the quantity produced by Scott, Dickens, 
 Thackeray, and George Eliot; and by Balzac, Sand, and 
 Hugo; or with the complete editions of the works of the 
 foremost poets who were his contemporaries, and you per- 
 ceive that Manzoni, of all the men of genius in our volu- 
 ble and diffuse century was the most reticent. In his 
 restraint, compactness, and sense of proportion, he resem- 
 bled the Greeks, but in spirit he was a modern, and in 
 his method a Komauticist. lie was perhajis the only 
 man of first-rate ability in his time who believed devoutly 
 the dogmas of the Catholic Churcli, yet his ])elief did not 
 prevent him from approving the abolition of the temporal 
 Papacy. lie was never a conspirator, never any other 
 than the modest, retiring, but steadfast poet; and yet few 
 of the men of action contributed so largely as he to the 
 liberation of Italy. What was the secret of his })ower 
 amid these apparent contradictions? It was his diar- 
 acter: lie represented that intelligence and integrity, 
 that earnestness not to l)e misled by fitful passions, that 
 ])atriotic si-lf-coiitrol and self-abnegation, witliout wliii'h 
 lil)erty, whether of tlie indivi(bial or of the State, is a 
 dangerous gift. Thougli he siil)Miitted to Austrian rule 
 in his native Lombardy, and though Austrian spies could
 
 320 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 never find cause for prosecuting him, he never suppressed 
 an opinion through fear or self-interest, and there was 
 none whose Italianism was more widely known. A little 
 while ago Monti, the turncoat and sycophant, stood at 
 the head of Italian letters : from him to Manzoni, what a 
 contrast, what an advance ! The sons of fathers who had 
 excused Monti's baseness for the sake of his brilliance, 
 had a master whose life was not less venerable than his 
 works were noble. 
 
 Manzoni expressed his piety in a series of "Sacred 
 Hymns " which are probably as excellent as any modern 
 paraphrase can be of the simple and beautiful narrative in 
 the Evangelists of Christ's birth, passion, and resurrec- 
 tion. He then gave wider scope to his imagination in 
 two tragedies, '"'Adelchi," and "II Carmagnola," in which 
 he flung down a challenge to the Classicists, and hid 
 many a patriotic appeal. The choruses in those dramas, 
 and above all the splendid "Ode on the Death of Na- 
 poleon," showed the high lyric quality, the fervor, and 
 clearness, of Manzoni's poetic genius; but it was by his 
 romance, "The Betrothed," that he won instant pop- 
 ularity, captivating alike the humblest reader and the 
 most fastidious critic. Here at last was a genuine book, 
 woven of the simplest elemental passions. Mark with 
 what naturalness the love-story of a peasant youth and 
 girl comes to concern far other than peasants, till at last 
 ^^ardinal Borromeo himself is touched by it, so that the 
 whole social fabric is unfolded, with its interrelation of 
 class with class, and its varied but perpetually interesting 
 human colors. Mark the humor which, like gold thread 
 shot through damask, plays over it from end to end. 
 Mark the exquisite precision, the unerring lifelikeness, 
 pervaded everywhere by a rich, poetic atmosphere, like 
 the shores of Lake Como itself. This is the true realism, 
 because it is the ideal. Only in those passages where, 
 as Goethe said, Manzoni "throws off the poet's mantle
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 321 
 
 and stands as a naked historian," does our interest 
 slacken ; and yet, make what deductions we will for this 
 defect, "The Betrothed" remains the most beautiful of 
 romances. 
 
 Not as a literary masterpiece, however, does this work 
 of Manzoni's concern us, so much as a landmark in the 
 progress of Italian regeneration. It gave the Italians an 
 object worthy of their admiration ; it settled forever that 
 pedantic question as to what words a writer might use; 
 deeper still, it was an indictment of foreign tyranny, 
 and of the oppression of the people by the nobles. The 
 tyrants in the story were Spaniards, but every Italian as 
 he read substituted the word Austrian for Spcifiiard, and 
 the book became a Bible of patriotism. Its influence, 
 like the personal influence of Manzoni himself, was thus 
 very wide and permanent, but so quiet and reasonable 
 and pervasive that we have no means of measuring it 
 accurately. All that we can say is that from about the 
 year 1825 Manzoni stood among his countrymen as the 
 embodiment of a pure and dignified patriotism, which 
 based its hopes on no mere outward political upheaval, 
 but on moral regeneration. 
 
 Fame, and the love of multitudes and their trust, — 
 which are better than fame, — came to ^Manzoni early in 
 his career, and increased throughout his long life; ])aiu- 
 fully different was the fate of .James Leopardi (1798- 
 1837), tiie only other Italian poet of tliis century whose 
 genius, transcending the limits of his time and country, 
 has an international significance and bids fair to conunand 
 the attention of generations yet unborn. The story of his 
 life, aside from the ([uality of his work, would suflice to 
 mak(; him one of the most iuterestiug figures in iuocUm-u 
 literary history. I lis very existence was a tragedy so 
 cruel and so inexplicable that we can only wonder and 
 j)ity and l)e silent: for in liini a genius of all but the 
 highest capacity was united to a feel)le frame, a sickly
 
 322 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 spine, and tattered nerves, as if Destiny, in a sardonic 
 mood, sought entertainment in witnessing the unequal 
 combat between this soul and body. Nor was this all : 
 Leopardi's lot fell to be born in the torpid, cheerless 
 Adriatic town of Recanati, among a bigoted and uncon- 
 genial people. And yet, though thus stinted in health 
 and sympathy, and though harassed by poverty, he raised 
 himself by the might of his intellect to one of the 
 loftiest reputations of his epoch. At an age when 
 other boys had not left their marbles and kites he was 
 mastering Hebrew, Greek, and Latin ; at fourteen he was 
 proficient, probably none more so in Italy, in patristic 
 lore ; at eighteen he had written two canzoni which had 
 had no peers since Petrarch wrote; and then, through 
 twenty years of physical anguish, sometimes nearly blind 
 for months, or plunged in nervous torments, he produced 
 works, whether in poetry or in prose, which have long 
 been esteemed classics by his countrymen, and which, so 
 profoundly do they express one of the dominant charac- 
 teristics of human nature, have merited the attention of 
 thinkers everywhere. 
 
 For Leopardi represents that spectre of pessimism 
 which continually dogs the footsteps of humanity, and at 
 one time or another whispers its terrific questions to 
 every earnest soul. He cannot, like the Stoic, satisfy 
 himseK by saying, "Though Fate be grim, I can bear it: " 
 for to what end would you resist for a little hour the 
 omnipotent monster? He cannot, like the Mystic, trust 
 that, in spite of the evils of life on earth, there will be 
 heaven hereafter : for he would ask how an alleged benef- 
 icent Creator could look unmoved upon such sufferings 
 as mortals endure between the dawn and twilight of a 
 single day. Leopardi is honest with himself : he will not 
 call evil good; he does not, — as so many do when they 
 feel the svipports of dogma slipping away, — he does not 
 try to convince himself that they are still firm ; he takes
 
 UNDERCUBRENT8. 323 
 
 no moral opiates, but dares to know the worst, let the 
 pain be what it may. Keligion, love, hope, progress, pa- 
 triotism, seem to him but delusions, — iridescent films 
 hung over the mouth of the abyss, — to prevent mankind 
 from realizing too early the vanity and nothingness from 
 which they and all things spring and to which all return. 
 And yet Leopardi's despair is not selfish, like that of the 
 cynic; he may indulge in sarcasm when he contrasts the 
 arrogance of some men with the insignificance of their 
 power as compared to the universe which grinds them, 
 but he feels even more deeply the pity, the pathos of it 
 all, that creatures so frail should be teased by desires so 
 noble. "Ennui," he says, "is in some fashion the most 
 sublime of himian sentiments. Not that I believe that 
 from the examination of this sentiment those consequences 
 are begotten which many i)hilosophers thought were de- 
 ducible from it; but, nevertheless, the impossibility of 
 being satisfied by anything on earth, or, so to speak, by 
 the earth entire ; to consider the measureless amplitude of 
 s])ace, the number and wonderful magnitude of worlds, 
 and to find that all is little and petty compared with the 
 capacity of the mind itself; to imagine the number of 
 worlds as infinite and tlie infinite universe, and to feel 
 that our mind and our desire would be still larger tlian 
 such a universe; and forever to accuse things of insuffi- 
 ciency and nullity, and to suffer a loss and void, and 
 therefore ennui, seems to me th(> chief sign of grandeur 
 and nobility that can be seen in liuman nature. For 
 ennui is little known to men of no worth, and very little 
 or not at all to the other animals." ^ 
 
 It is because Leopardi uttered witli force and beauty 
 and witli unfaltering courage tlie last secrets of despair, 
 that he lias come to be regarded as one of the signifi- 
 cantly typical ])oets of the centurv. Psy('holo^■ists may 
 perliai)s be able to deteniiiiie how far liis pessimism was 
 
 ' I'l iisii n\ Ixviii.
 
 324 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 due to his diseased body; he himself believed that his 
 physical infirmities had not warped his mind. . "Before 
 dying," he wrote to a friend, "I am going to protest 
 against this invention of feebleness and vulgarity, and to 
 beg my readers to set about destroying my observations 
 and reasoning, rather than to accuse my maladies."^ 
 The enigma of so inadequate a constitution as Leopardi's 
 should make even the most buoyant optimists sober. His 
 poetry, like impassioned mournful music, does not lift us 
 by inspiring hope, but soothes us by giving utterance to 
 the regrets and sorrows which, if unuttered, would stifle 
 the heart. And as there will always be death and part- 
 ings, and the wistful looking back to vanished youth, 
 Leopardi's lyrics might still be read long after the golden 
 age of Utopia had transformed the earth, and optimism 
 were the only philosophy. 
 
 Leopardi's direct influence on the Italian cause was 
 wrought by the patriotic odes written in his youth, when 
 he felt bitterly the degradation of his country, and before 
 he had formulated his philosophy of despair. His work 
 was never popular in his lifetime, but it moved a small 
 circle of the elect by whom it was transmitted to the 
 many. The Italians, who were gradually being vitalized 
 by a great idea, were thereby rising above pessimism, 
 and they drew from Leopardi an incentive for improving 
 rather than for accepting their wretched lot. It is char- 
 acteristic of the conflicting aspects of our epoch, that 
 Manzoni and Leopardi should represent Italy in the mod- 
 ern world-literature. Like two ships borne in opposite 
 directions by the same trade -wind, one had a smooth 
 voyage, and cast anchor in a pleasant haven ; the other, 
 buffeted and distressed, sailed along dangerous shores, 
 and disappeared amid Antarctic ice and fog. 
 
 These are the chief names in that post-Napoleonic lit- 
 erature in which Romanticism was expressing itself and 
 1 Letter to De Sinner, May 24, 1832.
 
 UNDEKCURRENTS. " 325 
 
 the new ideas of liberty in Italy. Of many other men, 
 some of whom enjoyed a wide contemporary reputation, 
 and all of whom were swayed by a similar purpose, it is 
 not necessary to give a detailed account. The short- 
 lived Conciliatore newspaper at Milan, the more fortu- 
 nate Antologia at Florence, the stirring verse of Berchet, 
 the revived study of Dante, ^ and of the history of Italy 
 during the Middle Age and the Renaissance, — all these 
 were symptoms of the intellectual awakening, and evidence 
 that there was gathering a body of temperate patriotic 
 men who by example and precept should prepare their 
 country to deserve freedom. They held aloof from plots; 
 they seemed lukewarm to the men of action ; but they in- 
 sisted upon character and intelligence as prerequisites 
 without which national unity could not be permanent nor 
 independence beneficial ; and their influence, though grad- 
 ual and indirect, went far and sank deep. 
 
 These being some of the forces active at home, what 
 was the attitude abroad? How was foreign public opin- 
 ion disposed towards the resurrection of Italy? We have 
 seen how, since the Congress of Vienna, foreign nations 
 treated the desires of Italians; but we must distinguish 
 between the diplomatic interference and official injustice 
 of governments, and the attitude of individual foreigners. 
 The oligarchic cabal wliich, under Mctternich, had striven 
 to bind tyranny upon P^urope, could not wholly stifle the 
 expression of Liberal thoughts. Byron's elemental vigor, 
 for instance, had swept his jioenis over the world, and 
 they carried with them a passionate ])lea for down -trodden 
 Greece and Italy. At a time when Europe had sunk 
 back into feudal reaction, he boldly protested that neither 
 Holy Alliances nor Metternichs nor Castlereaghs could 
 postpone forever the day of reckoning l)ctween the gov- 
 
 ^ In the fifteenth century 1") editions of tlio Divine Comtdy were issued ; 
 in the sixteei'th, 42; in the seventecntli. 4 ; in the eif^hteenth, 40; in tlio 
 firat lialf of tlie nineteeiitli more than l.")U editions, bee preface to Dr. 
 ("arlylo's translation of the Inferno.
 
 326 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 emors and the governed, and that no treaty nor diplo- 
 matist had the right to perpetuate the slavery of a people. 
 Many Englishmen shared Byron's enthusiasm, though 
 with reservations. They blushed in private to think that 
 England, which had been for generations the abode of 
 liberty, was now officially leagued with Continental des- 
 pots in oppressing races which asked for self-government ; 
 they blushed at the recollection of the perfidy by which 
 English agents had, in 1814, deceived the Italians; but 
 while they sympathized in the abstract, they were not 
 prepared to give material aid. They were tired of wars 
 abroad, for which they were now paying the cost in in- 
 creased taxation ; they were involved at home in a great 
 political struggle, the beginning of the end of aristocratic 
 domination; they were just entering on that vast com- 
 mercial expansion which threatened to choke spirituality 
 through a surfeit of gold. At best, therefore, the Ital- 
 ians could as yet hope for no more than passive sympathy 
 from the more kindly-disposed English. The average 
 Briton — the typical John Bull, with his mixture of cant 
 and Philistinism, of worldly wisdom and shopkeeper's 
 integrity — was too insular to understand, and conse- 
 quently to pity, a race so different from his own. He was 
 reticent and gruff, they were emotional; he gloried in his 
 strength and wealth, they were weak and poor ; he was 
 practical, they, he supposed, were visionary. He had 
 come to look upon them as good pastry-cooks and dan- 
 cing masters, a degenerate race which had ages ago written 
 poetry that his daughters read, and had painted pictures 
 which he was dragged to see when he made the grand 
 tour. In Italy, he admitted, the beggars eating their 
 macaroni were picturesque but dirty; in London, the 
 Italian opera-singers sang divinely, but they were immoral 
 and expensive. What business had a people whose mis- 
 sion it was to go round the world with a barrel-organ and 
 a monkey to talk about self-government ? If they wanted
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 327 
 
 their freedom, why did they not fight for it, nay, why 
 had they ever lost it, unless they were unworthy of being 
 free? John Bull has always been quick to discern the 
 retributive hand of God in the afflictions of his neighbors, 
 felt it his duty to say, like Bildad the Shuhite, " If thou 
 wert pure and upright, surely now He would awake for 
 thee, and make the habitation of thy righteousness pros- 
 perous." Therefore, if Italy was wretched as a punish- 
 ment for her past sins, might it not be meddling with the 
 decrees of Providence to interfere in her behalf ? More- 
 over, John Bull, impregnable in his "sea-girt isle," took 
 not into account the geographical conditions which ex- 
 posed other countries to foreign conquest. His hereditary 
 hatred of papists had become an instinct ; but these Ital- 
 ians, were they not papist idolaters ? He despised civil 
 broils and dreaded violence, or whatever smacked of Ja- 
 cobinism, for Jacobinism had begotten a Napoleon ; who 
 could be sure that the Italian agitators, for all their glib 
 talk of liberty, were not another brood of Jacobins ? Still, 
 he had an instinctive love of fair play, and if he could be 
 brought to understand that Italy was really bent on mak- 
 ing a fight against great odds, he might possibly see to it 
 that her antagonist should take no mean advantage, — 
 always provided British commercial interests were not 
 involved in the dispute. 
 
 With Britisli public opinion at this stage, there came 
 a change in political leadership which aft'ceted the rela- 
 tions of Great Britain with the Allied Powers. Castle- 
 rcagli killed liimself in a fit of melancholy, and Canning 
 succeeded him as Foreign Minister. Canning belonged 
 to that noble order of English statesmen who, because 
 they have had faitli in lil)erty, have made tlie Anglo-Saxon 
 race the pioneer of liberty throughout the modern world. 
 He cut adrift from Castlcreagh's servile obediouce to Met- 
 tei-nieh; he encouraged the (rreeks in their struggle with 
 the Turks; by recognizing the South American rejjublics
 
 328 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 which had freed themselves through the heroism of Boli- 
 var and other patriots, he frustrated the purpose of the 
 Continental despots to restore the Spanish tyranny in 
 South America. Although he could not hinder the expe- 
 dition of the French Bourbons into Spain, he gave warn- 
 ing that England disapproved the Metternichian policy 
 of interfering in the domestic affairs of small States, and 
 he hinted in a memorable speech, that if such encroach- 
 ments were pushed, England would ally herself with the 
 revolutionary elements on the Continent, and see justice 
 done.^ Probably, had a crisis arisen, even Canning 
 would have been unable to urge the British nation to en- 
 gage in a general war for the sake of peoples that were 
 not large buyers of British manufactures; nevertheless, 
 his achievement in withdrawing England from the influ- 
 ence of the Holy Alliance, and in checking Metternich, 
 must not be too lightly rated. He died prematurely, but 
 not before he had given back to his country her honorable 
 reputation as friend of the oppressed, and had banished 
 from the Foreign Office the precedent by which a British 
 minister acted as the menial of a Continental chancellor. 
 
 In France the eddies and counter-currents of politics 
 were more perplexing. It seemed as if Louis XVIII and 
 Charles X were prospering in their restoration of Bour- 
 bonism. Their policy had these two ends : to stamp out 
 Liberalism at home, and to recover that ascendency abroad 
 which France had lost at Waterloo. The French minis- 
 ters respected the Holy Alliance so far as it helped the 
 first aim; but where it tended to keep France in a subor- 
 dinate position, they wished to evade it, and secretly 
 reached out for new diplomatic combinations. French- 
 men, ever thirsty for glory, must be slaked by such in- 
 sipid draughts as the Spanish campaign and the Algerian 
 expedition. In Italy they intrigued to undermine Aus- 
 
 ^ Speech delivered Dee. 12, 1826. See Stapleton : Political Life of George 
 Canning (London, 1831), iii, 223.
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 329 
 
 tria's predominance, and to hasten the time when France 
 might openly contest with Austria the enjoyment of Ital- 
 ian spoils. The general course of France during these 
 years was therefore away from the Holy Alliance and 
 towards England, so that there slowly grew up a new 
 division of the Great Powers, — a division not sanctioned 
 by treaty but tacitly recognized, in which the " Western 
 Powers " (France and England) represented the progres- 
 sive tendency, and the "Northern Powers" (Austria, 
 Prussia, and Russia) represented the stationary or retro- 
 grade tendency of the century. But officially, between 
 1815 and 1830, France seemed the enemy of every Lib- 
 eral hope. 
 
 It was in unofficial France, among the professed Repub- 
 licans and the discontented Imperialists, that the deeper 
 purposes of the nation were germinating. There, con- 
 spiracies and revolutionary preparations gave the lie to 
 the superficial firmness of Bourbonism, which was but as 
 a thin crust hardened over a stream of molten lava. The 
 French Liberals sympathized with the Italians as com- 
 rades in misfortune, and French writers echoed that 
 romantic sentiment towards afflicted Italy that Byron had 
 uttered with a force unknown to French poetry. Nor 
 did official France lack the means of learning the truth 
 about those Italian agitations that wore stigmatized by 
 Metternich and the ('licjue of despots as the efforts of 
 anarchists to destroy civilization. C'liateaubriand, then 
 ambassador at Rome, gave the following ch'ar staten\ent 
 concerning Italy, in 1829, to a nirnibcr of the French 
 Cabinet: "Read with caution what maybe sent to you 
 from Na])les, and elsewhere. Tiicy deem conspiracy the 
 univei'sal discontent, the fruit of the times, the clash of 
 the old with the new society, of decrepit institutions 
 acrainst th<^ vonnir trenerations, the coiifrontinir of that 
 which is with that which niiulit be. The great s])ectacle 
 of France, — powerful, peaceful, happy, — striking the
 
 330 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 eyes of nations which have remained, or fallen back, 
 nnder the yoke, excites laments and nourishes hopes. 
 Kepresentative governments and absolute governments 
 cannot endure together: perforce one or the other must 
 perish, and the political system become everywhere uni- 
 form. Can custom-house lines any longer separate lib- 
 erty from servitude ? Or a man be executed on this side 
 of a brook for principles which are reputed sacred on the 
 other? This, and this alone, is conspiracy in Italy, that 
 in this sense may be called French. But from the day 
 when she shall enter upon the enjoyment of rights pointed 
 out to her by her intelligence and brought by the times, 
 she will be tranquil and purely Italian. It is not obscure 
 Carbonari, goaded on by the manoeuvres of the police 
 and hanged without mercy, that will overturn this coun- 
 try. Governments are given very false ideas about tlie 
 true state of the world; they are hindered from doing 
 what they should for their own safety, by being induced 
 to regard the effect of a permanent and general cause as 
 the conspiracy of a few Jacobins. These conditions 
 obtain throughout Italy ; but each State, besides the com- 
 mon troubles, is tormented by some special malady: 
 Piedmont, the prey of a fanatical faction ; the Milanese, 
 devoured by the Austrians; the Papal domain, under- 
 mined by a bad financial administration, — for the im- 
 posts amount to nearly fifty millions, and do not leave to 
 the proprietor one per cent, of his revenue ; the cvistom 
 house produces almost nothing, and smuggling is general. 
 The Prince of Modena, in his duchy, — a spot where 
 ancient abuses have f idl play, — sets up storehouses for 
 contraband goods, which he introduces into the Legation 
 of Bologna by night. The government of the Two Sicilies 
 has fallen into the lowest depths of contempt, — the Court, 
 living amid its guards, ever under the incubus of fear, 
 offering no other spectacle than ruinously expensive hunt- 
 ing-j)arties and executions^ makes monarchy more and
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 831 
 
 more detestable in the eyes of the people, and the weak- 
 ness of the government is protected only by the baseness 
 of the multitude. The lack of military qualities will pro- 
 long Italy's agony. Bonaparte had not time to revive 
 this virtue ; the habits of an indolent life and the entice- 
 ments of the climate contribute to take from the Italians 
 of the South the desire to rouse themselves for improve- 
 ment. The feuds bred by territorial divisions increase 
 the difficulties of the internal movements; but if some 
 impulse should come from outside, or if any prince among 
 the Alps should grant a statute to his subjects, there 
 would ensue a revolution, for which everything is ripe. 
 More fortunate than we, and taught by our experience, 
 these peoples will be sparing of crimes, of which we were 
 so lavish." ^ 
 
 We see from this that official France had cognizance of 
 the facts : individually some of her politicians may have 
 felt as Chateaubriand felt; but officially she gave Italy 
 no encouragement. And yet, Italians looked to France 
 for guidance; they waited for her to take the initia- 
 tive. Since 1789 Continental Europe had come to have 
 a superstitious belief that France alone could give the 
 signal for a successful political movement. The collapse 
 of the revolutions in Na})les and Piedmont had intro- 
 duced a new element in Italian conspiracies: for tlie 
 thousands of Liberals who then fled, or were banished 
 from Italy, settled abroad and dedicated their lives to the 
 redemption of their country. In Switzerland, at jVIar- 
 seilles, at Paris, at Brussels, at I^ondon, tliey liad their 
 refuges, and formed relations with tlie exiles and tlie male- 
 contents of other lands. So nmch of their time as was 
 not taken up with bread-winning, tliey gave to discussicm 
 of the Past and to plotting for the Future. Through 
 emissaries and clandestine correspondence they comnni- 
 nicated with the sects at lionie, urging them to be bold, 
 
 * Miiii<)iris<rOutrt-/(iriilH,v, TJl-li.
 
 332 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 promising them aid, chiding them for half-heartedness, 
 and always holding out to them the prospect of speedy 
 and easy success. They had suffered so much, that they 
 were impatient at the hesitation of their fellow-country- 
 men. They deemed prudence cowardice; and in their 
 homesick zeal they both exaggerated the chances of vic- 
 tory and underrated the probability of defeat. They 
 were the victims of those delusions which tease all who 
 look backward upon failure ; it seemed to them that but 
 for this trifle, or that accident, the judgment of Fate 
 would have been reversed, and their cause would have 
 prospered. So they were eager to make another trial, 
 confident that they could not repeat their previous blun- 
 ders. 
 
 Sad was the lot of the political exile, — sad, and calcu- 
 lated to unfit the sanest intellect for dealing with his 
 country's affairs. He lived among strangers, he tasted 
 the salt bread of strangers, and felt that their charity was 
 but sufferance. Every child he met reminded him of his 
 children, who were growing up without his care, perhaps 
 forgetful of him or corrupted by the men he hated. In 
 his sorrow he thought of his parents sorrowing for him ; 
 in his loneliness he felt again the sweet embraces of his 
 wife, and wept at the cruel vividness of his imagination. 
 His heart ached for news that never came from friends 
 shut up in prison. As he groped through the fogs of 
 London, he thought of the sapphire skies of Naples; as 
 he shivered in a foreign garret, he remembered the warm 
 South and his youth. His existence was a living death, 
 in which all the sweetness and joy of his past life were 
 become as wormwood to his soul. When Death takes 
 our beloved from us, we submit as best we may, for we 
 cannot strike at Death; the exile had to bear not only 
 the pangs of bereavement, but also the thought that he 
 was the victim of unjust men and not of the irrevocable 
 sternness of Providence. And as he had sacrificed happi-
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 333 
 
 ness for his patriotic ideal, so he was goaded by the desire 
 to strive, and strive again, to free his country from those 
 who oppressed her and injured him. The tyrant was not, 
 like Death, intangible; he was mortal, he could be as- 
 sailed; and both patriotism and his personal grievance 
 drove the exile to strike at this embodiment of public 
 wrongs, this cause of private sufferings. No wonder that 
 a tincture of personal injury often gave to his delibera- 
 tions a hue of vindictiveness. 
 
 The position of the exiles in their Continental asylums 
 was never secure; for, although the plan of Metternich 
 and the Duke o^ Modena to sliip them all to America had 
 not been followed, nevertheless they were everywhere 
 watched by the police, and they might at any moment be 
 arrested or conducted to the frontier of the State in which 
 they had taken shelter. Only in England, to whom be- 
 longs the honor of being the first European nation to 
 distinguish between civil and political criminals in her 
 treatment of foreigners,^ were they beyond the reach of 
 Metternich 's requisitions; but there, too, they were 
 dogged by his spies. 
 
 The majority of the Italian refugees settled in Paris, 
 eluding so far as they could the surveillance of the Bour- 
 bon government, and conniving with a host of French 
 conspirators bent on overturning that government. They 
 were not always united among themselves, for they car- 
 ried their local prejudices with them, and they had mutual 
 recriminations, charges of incompetence and cowardice, 
 to thresli over. They were j)i-eyed upon by theories, and 
 they sought remedies for the conditions which they had 
 known before tlieir exile, rather than for those actually 
 existing in their country. No matter how close their 
 correspondence might be witli the Liberals at home, it 
 was inevitable that they sliould he ignor;iiit of many vital 
 details concerning the mi'ii and ilie public sentiment that 
 
 ^ Stapleton : Life of ('anniwj, i'li, 140.
 
 334 THE DAWN OP ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 were to cooperate with them. Even when their informa- 
 tion was most recent and exact, they were hindered by 
 distance from profiting by it. Campaigns cannot be won 
 by letter-writing; and the failure of the conspiracies of 
 the Italian exiles during more than forty years proved 
 that Theory is quite another thing from Reality. 
 
 Nevertheless, the existence of those bands of refugees 
 abroad deeply affected the current of plotting in Italy, 
 and contributed indirectly to swell the stream of Liber- 
 alism. Among the exiles were the men who had been 
 most eminent in fomenting and guiding the revolutions, 
 and to them those of their confederates who had escaped 
 banishment still turned for leadership. In this way, as 
 the Italian secret societies were drawn through their ban- 
 ished members into relations with the conspirators from 
 all parts of Europe, they began to rely upon external aid, 
 and to watch the train of events beyond the Alps for the 
 signal for their own activity. This waiting for a foreign 
 initiative revealed their lack of concerted energy not less 
 than of a strong commander, but also it indicated that 
 the Italians felt themselves bound by the ties of a com- 
 mon purpose to the revolutionists of Europe. The cause 
 they were fighting for was international ; it was the cause 
 of Peoples against Despots; and the Peoples were awak- 
 ening to the conviction that the artificial barriers set up 
 by diplomacy must not separate themselves from their 
 brothers in distress. From France — terrific mother of 
 revolutions — they expected the initiative to issue. 
 
 In yet another way were those exiles helpful to their 
 country's redemption : they were serving her as martyrs. 
 Out of their love for her they had given up their hopes 
 and happiness, to be living sacrifices to patriotism. 
 Suffering is the holy water which purifies the heart of 
 man; renunciation fortifies his will. When the Spirit 
 reveals Truth to him, there comes with the revelation tlie 
 sense of a liiiiher dutv to which he must consecrate his
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 335 
 
 life. The moral progress of the race has been marked 
 by the discovery of objects which it is nobler to die for 
 than to live without. And now thousands of Italians 
 were willing to endure exile or imprisonment in behalf 
 of an ideal for which, a generation earlier, scarcely one 
 Italian felt called upon to suffer. This example of devo- 
 tion could not but make a deep impression on their coun- 
 trymen, teaching them that the national cause had been 
 sanctified by blood and tribulation, and imposing upon 
 them also a patriotic duty. Only the partisans of tyr- 
 anny, or those who were basely indifferent, could be un- 
 moved when they reflected that many of their fellows 
 were wandering in foreign lands or pining in loathsome 
 prisons, because they had dared to assert that Italy must 
 be free. From the fortress of Spielberg was flung a 
 black shadow of mourning, — a constant reminder of the 
 government which had sworn to keep Italy enslaved. 
 Metternich in his shortsightedness believed that he could 
 pluck out the heart of Italian Liberalism and cast it into 
 his Moravian dungeon, there to rot; but every pang he 
 caused, every drop of that blood he shed, multiplied an 
 hundred fold the hatred of the Italians for their tormen- 
 tors. Tliat hatred, no tardy gi-aciousness of his could 
 soften > it became an instinct, a ruling passion, which 
 must destroy its antagonist, or be itself destroyed. 
 
 The pitiless retribution which had been exacted from 
 the revolutionists of 1820-21 did not quash conspiracy; 
 on the contrary, the gaps made in the secret societies 
 were filled with new members, whose wratli was heiglit- 
 ened by the thought of their exiled and inii)risone(l 
 brothers. But recent experience had taught tlie jdotters 
 caution, and many of tlie sects split u]) into new organ- 
 izations or dianged fheir names. They had a dangerous 
 enemy in the Sanfedists, — literally tlie " Ilolv Faithists/' 
 — a sect founded and encoui-iged hy the Roman Cuiia 
 for the special object of neutralizing the sid)versive iuthi-
 
 336 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 ence of the revolutionists.^ The Sanfedists were more 
 widely diffused, and they had more pertinacity, than 
 Prince Canosa's Tinkers, and they were, therefore, more 
 successful in following the trail of the Carbonari and 
 their confederates ; but neither they nor the ever- vigilant 
 police, nor the severe punishment that was dealt out, 
 deterred the conspirators, who made proselytes, and laid 
 their plans against the day when France should signal, 
 "Strike." 
 
 The despotic governments, having taken vengeance on 
 the insurgents and plotters of 1820-21, did not relax 
 their sternness. They reformed no abuses; they would 
 not conciliate even the most moderate remonstrants by 
 listening to them, but held stubbornly to their policy 
 of treating every murmur as a crime. In Piedmont 
 Charles Felix gave himself up to the lleactionists, even 
 neglecting the army which had long been the particular 
 pride of his dynasty and had served to gratify the ambition 
 of the active Piedmontese. In Lombardy and Venetia 
 the Austrians maintained their enervating rule, which 
 seemed outwardly less oppressive than that of any Italian 
 province except Tuscany, bvit which was inwardly unyield- 
 ing and merciless. Towards the end of the decade, when 
 Metternich judged that his police were sufficiently expert, 
 and that the examples he had made of the victims in the 
 Spielberg would frighten other conspirators from violence, 
 he adopted different methods, hoping that, by allowing 
 the upper classes to indulge freely in luxury and pleasure, 
 he could divert them from political affairs and gradually 
 render them too supine to raise even a protest against 
 their master. IMilan became again the gay capital, 
 where balls, theatres, vice-regal entertainments, and aris- 
 
 ^ Cantu (Cronistoria, ii, lo5) doubts the existence of the Sanfedists ; 
 but every history of that time refers to them, and it is improbable that an 
 imag-inary society could for more than twenty years have been treated as 
 actually existing both by its supposed friends and by its avowed ene- 
 mies.
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 337 
 
 tocratic dissipations of all kinds created fictitious merri- 
 ment. It is an old trick of tyrants to make vice seduc- 
 tive. In Lucca the death of Maria Louisa (1824) and the 
 succession of her son, Charles Louis, caused no change 
 in the condition of that principality; nor was Tuscany 
 disturbed when her easy-going Grand Duke Ferdinand 
 died (1824); for his son, Leopold II, pursued, under 
 the guidance of Fossombroni, the system of not inter- 
 fering with his subjects so long as they refrained from 
 meddling in politics. But Tuscany, with her common- 
 place prosperity and her unaspiring respectability, seemed 
 a land of freedom compared with the neighboring States 
 of the Church, where the material condition grew year by 
 year more wretched, and the government of the priests 
 became as intolerable to man as if devils were secretly 
 directing it, 
 
 Pius VII, after several false alarms, died, to the sat- 
 isfaction of the Cardinals eager to succeed him, in Au- 
 gust, 1823. The Conclave chose Annibale della Genga 
 in his place. Leo XII, for by that name the new pope 
 wished to be called, was a reactionary, who construed 
 reform to mean the restoration to the Cardinals and the 
 higher prelates of those autocratic privileges which had 
 been curtailed by Consalvi. His early days had not been 
 without scandal, but he now lived austerely with liis 
 breviary and his pet cat, and meditated measures for 
 enforcing a stricter observamie of religious ceremonials. 
 To protect the morals of his subjects, he ordered tin fig- 
 leaves to be put on tlie anticpie statues; to show that 
 h(^ believed the human body is made in God's image, lie 
 forbade vaccination as a j)r()('ess wliereby the "linman 
 form divine" was tainted by virus fi-om an animal, lie 
 enforced savaire ordinances a<rainst the Jews, revived tlie 
 rule of primogeniture, and granted feudal immunities 
 without stint. H(^ degraded th(^ judiciary more than 
 ever; he showed his niedia-valisni by re(piiring Latin to
 
 338 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 be spoken in the law courts and in the universities. In 
 dealing with concerns of larger note, his administration 
 oscillated between untimely cruelty and untimely compli- 
 ance. Thus when brigands — the unerring products of 
 bad government — became so audacious and insolent that 
 the Pope was shamed into a display of energy, he dis- 
 patched Cardinal Pallotta with full powers against them. 
 But Pallotta by indiscriminate executions only exasper- 
 ated the evil, and had to be recalled. Then Cardinal 
 Benvenuti was charged with the task; and he brought 
 about a temporary cessation of brigandage by buying off 
 the brigands, many of whom were promised pensions for 
 life. Equally monstrous and blundering was Leo's pol- 
 icy towards his discontented subjects in Romagna and 
 the Legations. By his harshness the Liberal sects were 
 hounded into open turbulence. They had frequent con- 
 flicts with the Sanfedists, who were incited by priests and 
 wandering friars. A revolution being imminent, Leo 
 commissioned Cardinal Rivarola to restore tranquillity 
 by any means. Pivarola was an ecclesiastic of the Tor- 
 quemada stripe, — fanatical, merciless, shortsighted, — 
 a physician who did not prescribe a cure, but only pal- 
 liatives for the moment. He worked with such vigor that 
 he had soon filled the prisons with actual or alleged con- 
 spirators upon whom he passed sentence, having scarcely 
 deigned to observe the form of legality. Five hundred 
 and eight victims were condemned by him, some to death, 
 — the sentence was not carried out, — some to the galleys 
 for longer or shorter terms, and some to daily registra- 
 tion at the police stations. Having sufficiently inspired 
 terror, he published a specious amnesty ; but the sectaries 
 were not to be lured from their revenge. They hated him 
 with an immitigable hatred, and at Ravenna they made 
 an attempt on his life. Thereupon an extraordinary 
 commission, presided by Monsignor Invernizzi, a man as 
 much like Rivarola as wolf and wolf, was appointed to
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 33^ 
 
 punish the supposed assassins. Many arrests, barbarous 
 tortures, seven victims for the gibbet, another company 
 for the galleys, and a multitude of suspects consigned to 
 police surveillance, — these were the consequences of this 
 new process, which caused Invernizzi to be detested, and 
 the assassins to be pitied. Intermittent spurts of fero- 
 city like this could not conceal the constitutional feeble- 
 ness of the Papal government, and they only envenomed 
 the sects which they were intended to dissolve. The key 
 of heaven was rusty from disuse ; with his other key, Leo 
 seemed to have unlocked hell, whence demons issued to 
 plague his realm. They laughed at excommunication, 
 and feared not holy water; they assumed the shapes of 
 cardinals not less than of conspirators ; but they must be 
 exorcised, if the Holy See was to retain its worldly power. 
 In the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, where there was 
 no cant pretense of governing by the inspiration of the 
 Holy Ghost, the situation grew yearly worse. King 
 Ferdinand was found one morning dead in his bed (1825): 
 terror frozen on his countenance, his limbs stiffened in 
 convulsed posture, just as he had unexj-iectedly been seized 
 by Death, and striven to writhe himself free; no friend 
 present to comfort him, no priest to absolve him from his 
 mountainous burden of crimes. Though we excused his 
 tyrannical methods as tlie product of his education and 
 inheritance, yet there would remain against him a record 
 of personal iniquity seldom equaled even by his B()urb<m 
 kindred; for he was a liar, a del)auchee, a })erjurcr, alter- 
 nately a bully or a coward, and an inveterate dissimu- 
 lator. Nevertludess his son Francis, who succeeded to 
 the throne, in some resjXH'ts suri)ass('d hiiu in baseness ; 
 for Fei'dinand, it was said, had made tyranny detestable, 
 while Francis made it dcspicalile. He it was wlio had 
 acted as viceroy dui'ing the revolution, and the al)ject 
 fear which tlien inqx-lh'd hiui to feign loyalty to the Lil>- 
 erals haunted him to the end. 1 le dared not drive through
 
 340 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 « 
 
 the streets of Naples without having first learned from 
 the Minister of Police what route would be safe. He 
 relied upon the Austrian garrisons to keep popular dis- 
 content from flaring up in another rebellion ; and when 
 the Austrians were withdrawn, he contracted with Swit- 
 zerland to furnish him a guard of six thousand soldiers 
 for thirty years. Under him the Camorra, a sort of Black- 
 mailers' Cooperative Society and Thieves' Alliance, sprang 
 up. Corruption rankled in every department of his ad- 
 ministration. Through his valet, Vaglica, and a chamber- 
 maid, Catherine de Simone, — two illiterate and venal crea- 
 tures whom he chose for his favorites, — he maintained 
 a traffic in goverinnent appointments. ^ "Whoever buys 
 an office," he used to say, "takes care not to lose it, and 
 is faithful." So great was his dread of poison that he 
 would allow only this woman to prepare his food, and she 
 must first taste it in his presence before he would eat. 
 Like his father, he had a passion for hunting, and spent 
 more money on this sport than on public education through- 
 out his kingdom. He, too, was annoyed by brigands and 
 by conspirators ; but the barbarity with which he perse- 
 cuted the fractious who fell into his power aroused popu- 
 lar detestation against himself, and sympathy for them. 
 Indeed, brigandage was often a protest, on the part of 
 men who had still enough manliness to protect them- 
 selves, against the unjust, venal, and cruel government. 
 The King's minion, Intonti, Minister of Police, and Dol- 
 carretto, commander of the gendarmerie and special mili- 
 tary agent, earned by their bloodthirstiness and duplicity 
 a reputation hardly less atrocious than that of Kuffo and 
 Canosa. The Neapolitan State, with its prisons full, 
 its offices, civil and ecclesiastical, possessed by bribers, 
 
 1 Bishoprics sold for 4,000 ducats ; civil offices for a usurious percentage 
 of the salary attached to them ; collectorships were bestowed upon in- 
 fants, the father of the appointee takinj;- the money. See N. Nisco : Gli 
 Ultiini Trentasei Anni del Etame di Napoli (Naples, 1889), i, 71.
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 341 
 
 its towns swarming with sectaries and spies, and its 
 provinces infested by outlaws, must have burst asunder, 
 had not the Holy Alliance covenanted to preserve even 
 rottenness, so long as any trace of Legitimacy could be 
 discerned on the rotting carcass. 
 
 If, therefore, the Italian Liberals had gi'ievances suffi- 
 cient to justify their revolution in 1820, every year in the 
 decade that followed brought fresh aggravations upon 
 them, and urged them to hazard another effort. Their 
 governors waxed more despotic, manifesting a reckless 
 indifference to the wishes of their subjects, and a deter- 
 mination never to compromise; for the certainty of being 
 protected by Austria made rulers insolent who were by 
 nature cowards. The recollection of the persecution which 
 their friends had suffered after the defeats in Piedmont 
 and Naples quickened the anger of the conspirators; the 
 activity of the exiles seemed to be based on strength that 
 would prove invincible. The sects were busy, and if they 
 still lacked leadership and union they felt that they were 
 engaged in a movement not restricted to Italy, but em- 
 bracing the o])])ressed and discontented elements of soci- 
 ety in Central and Western Europe. Tlie conflict be- 
 tween the Italians and their tormentors might be delayed ; 
 it could not be avoided ; but the success of the i)atriots 
 would depend not only on their own energy- and })ru(lence, 
 but on favorable international contingencies. As the year 
 1830 approached, the hearts of the ])l()tters grew buoy- 
 ant, for the stars which ruled the political destinies of 
 Kuro])o seemed to be nearing that position which por- 
 tended good fortune to Italy.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE REVOLUTIONS OF 1831. 
 
 At the end of July, 1830, Paris blazed into revolution. 
 For months previous every one had predicted an eruption, 
 but when it came, and belched firebrands over France 
 and Europe, many persons were taken by surprise. On 
 the very eve of the calamity Charles X played whist at 
 St. Cloud ; the next day he was scampering across France 
 to seek refuge in England. It does not concern us to 
 unravel the intrigues which interrupted his card-playing, 
 and set Louis Philippe, his Orleanist cousin, on the French 
 throne. The details are not always clear, but it is clear 
 that the most vigorous of the plotters had not worked for 
 this result. They aimed at establishing a Republic, for 
 they had no more illusions about monarchy, and they 
 were disgusted with the Bourbons. The friends of Louis 
 Philippe — a royal Micawber, who had for forty years 
 been good-naturedly waiting for a crown to turn up — 
 saw their opportunity, fraternized with the Republicans, 
 and professed an vmquenchable desire to exterminate the 
 whole brood of European Absolutists. Therefore Repub- 
 licans and Orleanists plotted along parallel lines; the 
 Twenty - ninth of July came, and the government of 
 France fell into their power. Which of them should 
 keep it? The majority of the active conspirators still 
 desired the Republic, but was the majority of the Frencli 
 people with them ? The middle classes feared anarchy, 
 and the Orleanists cunningly excited their fears. The 
 Re})ublic was a noble ideal, — none would deny that, ■ — 
 but what if it should sink into another Reiu'u of Terror?
 
 THE REVOLUTIONS OF 1831. 343 
 
 The country was not yet educated for an out-and-out de- 
 mocracy ; why not, therefore, compromise ? Why not agree 
 upon the most Liberal form of constitutional monarchy? 
 The decision had to be made quickly, for tumults were 
 impendin<j at home, and the Absolutist Powers abroad 
 might at any moment interfere. Lafayette, who was 
 only less facile than Talleyrand himself in moulting his 
 plumage to suit the political season, commanded the 
 National Guard at this crisis, was persuaded by the 
 Orleanist arguments, and threw his great influence in 
 favor of Louis Philippe. Thus, without an appeal to 
 the nation, was set up a constitutional monarchy which 
 broke the fall between autocracy and republicanism. 
 
 There are certain amphibious creatures which seem so 
 well adapted to a life on land that you never suspect their 
 aquatic nature ; but let them by chance come down to the 
 water, and they swim off, and adjust themselves to their 
 new element as if they had known no other. Such a 
 creature, in tlie political sense, was Louis Philippe; once 
 on the throne, he forgot his past i)romises and confeder- 
 ates, and was only intent on making his dynasty tirm. 
 This double nature explains the insincerity of his attitude 
 towards the P^uropean Liberals, — insincerity whicli, as 
 we shall presently see, was disastrous to the Italians who 
 had trusted in him. Although by adroitness he had 
 glided into kingship, a considerable faction of the French 
 felt that they had been swindled. To conciliate them, 
 he sang a song of reform, and went about witli an osten- 
 tatious simplicity whii-h might persuad*' tlie stubbornest 
 Kadicals that, although he was called king, lu' was at 
 heart as much a citizen as tlie l)est of thein. To tlie au- 
 tocrats of the Holy Alliance he had to J'lay another tune. 
 Since 1815 they had maintained the piincij)le of Le- 
 gitimacy, forbidding any change in dynasties that was 
 not jn-ovided for by the ( 'oiigress of \ ienna ; tlu'V had 
 refused all transaction with the products of the revolu-
 
 344 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 tion ; they had stifled the efforts of Liberals in Naples, 
 in Piedmont, and in Spain ; they had made it the cardinal 
 doctrine of their creed that no people had the right to 
 alter their government against the wishes of their sover- 
 eign and the consent of his allies. How, then, could 
 they admit to their exclusive circle this subverter of the 
 principle of Legitimacy, this product of a revolution in 
 France ? Louis Philippe played to them a seductive air. 
 Instead of spurning him as an incendiary, he said, they 
 ought to be grateful to him for having put out a fire that 
 threatened to ravage Europe. Duty alone had overcome 
 his unwillingness to burden his shoulders with kingly 
 responsibility at that dangerous crisis, when he alone had 
 the power to save France from ruin and his neighbors 
 from calamity. His intentions, he assured them, were 
 conservative and peaceful, and he would endeavor to fulfil 
 the international engagements of his predecessors in so far 
 as he could do this without clashing with the moderate 
 sentiments of the French. 
 
 The Great Powers were not fooled by these declara- 
 tions: they saw that Louis Philippe's ill-concealed dynas- 
 tic ambition was a better guarantee than all his protests 
 that he would henceforth keep the peace and eschew the 
 revolution. Metternich regretted that the Allies had not 
 an army on the French frontier, to march double-quick 
 to Paris and strangle the monster of Jacobinism once for 
 all. He sounded tlie Allies as to their willingness to 
 hold another Congress, but they were disinclined ; Eng- 
 land had already recognized the July monarchy, and 
 Prussia soon imitated her. The Czar, indeed, was angry 
 enough to go to war, had not his neighbors' reluctance 
 and the internal affairs of his Empire restrained him; 
 therefore, though he officially accepted Louis Philippe as 
 King of the French, he allowed his irritation to appear 
 through the insulting terms in which his consent as 
 couched. Metternich, also, who had reduced snubbing
 
 THE REVOLUTIONS OF 1831. 345 
 
 to a fine art, expressed his contempt for the Orleanist 
 usurper, but in a form so subtle that no stickler for cour- 
 tesy could resent it. When General Bellard, the French 
 envoy, discoursed to him of Louis Philippe's good inten- 
 tions, and of his service to European tranquillity in 
 checking the revolution, and of his ability thenceforth to 
 keep France quiet, Metternich ironically replied that this 
 was the old story which previous French ministers had 
 told him: "but," he added, "after our recent experience, 
 how can we ever put faith in such declarations? " Never- 
 theless, he realized that at present it would be more pru- 
 dent to acquiesce in a disagreeable infringement of his 
 principle of Legitimacy than to hazard a war: so Em- 
 peror Francis, at his dictation, wrote a chilly letter of 
 recognition to the new French king. 
 
 Whilst Louis Philippe, by secretly disavowing any 
 sympathy with revolutionists, was humbly seeking admit- 
 tance to the clique of European sovereigns, he had to 
 speak deferentially of the revolution to his Fren(!h sub- 
 jects; for to have denounced before them the methods of 
 the Tvventy-nintli of July would have been to admit that 
 his elevation to the throne was illegal, and that the Al- 
 lied Powers woidd be justified in restoring Charles X, as 
 they had formerly restored Louis XVIII. He therefore 
 proclaimed that each people has the right to manage its 
 internal affairs, and that any attem])t by a foreign govern- 
 ment to restrict or to ci'ush that right must be resisted. 
 France was strong enough now to defy an invasion ; or, 
 say ratlier, the Allies were in an unfavorable j)osition for 
 invading her. They remembered liow she had hurled 
 back tlieir armies in 1792, and for many years afterward; 
 they knew, too, that tlie moment in wliieli they ordered 
 tlieir troops to cross her frontier would be tlie signal for 
 rebellion in their own lands; tlity dreaded a deatli-gra])- 
 ple with Liberalism: and so they allowed Louis Pliilij)])e 
 and his ministers to babble :ibout non-intervention. Af-
 
 34(3 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 ter all, had they not private assurances from himself that 
 if they did not interfere with his schemes in France they 
 would find him a very safe neighbor? 
 
 Such was the Kevolution of July as it appeared to the 
 actors behind the scenes; an unheroic performance, in 
 which mean ambitions and diplomatic chicane were the 
 web whereof the plot was woven; a solemn farce to any 
 spectator who knew that all the bluster and patriotic 
 affirmations were counterfeit, and that only the ill-humor 
 was real. But the European public, as unsophisticated 
 as children at their first play, were thrilled by it be- 
 yond measure, and, rnimicxy being instinctive in child- 
 hood, they set about rehearsing revolutions of their 
 own. Erelong, Belgium had risen against the Dutch; 
 the native troops in Russian Poland had mutinied and 
 l^roclaimed the independence of their unhappy coun- 
 try, which had become enslaved through the sins of their 
 forefathers; hope was throbbing in the hearts of stolid 
 German Liberals; and the Italian conspirators were 
 already discussing what to do after they had rid Italy 
 of her tyrants. 
 
 To the Italians, indeed, the news of Louis Philippe's 
 easy victory did not come as a surprise ; they had been 
 expecting the revolution for a long time past, and were 
 only surprised that it had exploded so early. There was 
 at Paris a Cosmopolitan Committee, composed of exiles 
 and plotters from all parts of the Continent, which was 
 not only in close relations with Lafayette, Dupont de 
 I'Eure, and the other French Republicans, but also with 
 the leaders of the revolutionary sects in their several 
 countries. This Committee had planned that the upris- 
 ing should take place simultaneously in France, Spain, 
 and Italy, and that those three Latin peoples, once free, 
 should unite in a league to defend each other against the 
 probable attack of Austria and Russia. Charles the 
 Tenth's mad wilfulness had forced the issue upon France
 
 THE REVOLUTIONS OF 1831. 347 
 
 a little too soon for her confederates. Nevertheless, the 
 Italians were almost as exultant as if thefr own victory 
 had been secured ; for they had the success of the French 
 to cheer them, and on the French throne they saw a king 
 who had been created by their friends, and whom the 
 Holy Alliance had not dared to assail. France was again 
 the Grand Nation, whose armies had thundered through 
 Europe a generation ago, and France was now with 
 them, and with all those who would break the chains of 
 the Old Regime. For, listen to the utterances of Louis 
 Philippe's ministers. " Whereas the Holy Alliance was 
 founded on the principle of interfering in the domestic 
 affairs of foreign countries," said Marshal Sebastiani, 
 in Parliament, — "a principle which destroys the inde- 
 pendence of States, — France now hallows the opposite 
 principle, and will cause the independence of all to be re- 
 spected." And Lafitte declared with equal resoluteness: 
 " France will not permit the principle of non-intervention 
 to be violated." What assurances more sure, what in- 
 citement more direct, could the Italians require? The 
 enemy which had thwarted their patriotic comrades since 
 1815, and had decreed perpetual serfdom for Italy, was 
 Austria, and now France had said that she woidd tolerate 
 no longer Austria's meddling in the concerns of weaker 
 States. So the Italians had no doubt of their ability to 
 deal with their local tyrants, and the last ])r('])arations 
 for the revolution were diligontly i)uslie(l forward. 
 
 Tlie area of expected (listurl)au(*e included the Duchy 
 of Modcna and the States <tf the C'luirch, but tlie rest of 
 the Peninsula was in a feverish condition which ])redis- 
 j)osed it to catch the revobitionary epitU'mic. Never liad 
 Italian conspiracy entered a pliase so dramatic and inter- 
 esting as the present. The sects at home were in touch 
 with their exiled coneagues at Paris, whert', in the enthu- 
 siastic imagination of th<' plolti-rs, tliere existed a maga- 
 zine or reservoir wh(!nce they might draw unlimited assist-
 
 348 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 ance. The sects themselves had as usual their differ- 
 ences and rivalries : there were the Unitarians, who made 
 the unification of the Italian provinces the chief object to 
 be attained; there were the Federatists, who insisted that 
 only a federal union would satisfy them; there were 
 smaller factions, each with its peculiar hobby and pan- 
 acea ; but sufficient harmony ran through these discordant 
 elements to cause each to waive for the present its pet 
 design, and to join in the common struggle for indepen- 
 dence. More strange even than their temporary unison 
 was their belief that they had secured as their ally and 
 leader the Italian tyrant who had hitherto been the most 
 active and the most execrated enemy of Liberalism. 
 Francis of Modena, whose cruelty after the revolt of 1821 
 had earned for him the nickname "Butcher," — he who 
 had never slackened his oppressive government, and who 
 had recently taken Prince Canosa into his confidence, — 
 was now leagued with conspirators whom he once urged 
 the Allied Powers to send like convicts beyond the sea. 
 How had this singular truce between the wolf and sheep 
 been compacted? 
 
 I am not one of those historians whose self-confidence 
 suffices, in the lack of an authentic clue, to guide them 
 through the labyrinth of dark and tortuous events. The 
 supreme value of history depends upon the trvitlifulness 
 with which it traces the great currents of human life, 
 rather than upon its ability to explain why some particu- 
 lar eddy or ripple disturbed the surface of the stream at 
 a given point. The individual man is often a mystery to 
 himself and a paradox to others ; and it is as rare in mat- 
 ters of State as in private matters that you can say with 
 certainty, "This deed resulted from a single motive." 
 As a tree has many roots, so actions usually spring from 
 many motives : our volition has an ancestry whose pedi- 
 gree is unknown to us. And yet, in spite of the eccen- 
 tricity and contradictions of special acts, we discover, by
 
 THE REVOLUTIONS OF 1831. 349 
 
 comparing one act with another, that one law nnifies 
 them, and that in their sum, they reveal the character out 
 of which they grew. The moral integrity of the universe 
 will not be violated ; each seed brings forth fruit after its 
 kind. If we are deluded by external inconsistencies into 
 a belief in luck, if we fall into that deepest of errors, — 
 the only atlieism, which pretends that we can sow Evil 
 and somehow reap Good, — it is because we are still but 
 as children in our knowledge of the laws of s])iritual 
 growth and compensation. The desire to be guiltless of 
 this immoral worship of Chance, and to leave no nook 
 for Chaos, prompts some historians to round out with 
 theories of their own the gaps made by defective evidence ; 
 and this they do with no conscious purpose of falsifying, 
 but with dread lest the mysterious ])aradoxes of human 
 nature be charged to them. But the historian, I repeat, 
 has no business to invent motives for the sake of clear- 
 ness, nor to pass judgment on insuffii-ient testimony, for 
 the sake of showing his respect for justice. It is not he, 
 but the poet, — a Sophocles or a Shakespeare, — wliose 
 duty it is to illustrate by the typical creatures of tlie 
 imagination the unerring operations of the moral law, 
 and to com})lete and classify what seems to our ignorance 
 fragmentary and confused. Li't us, therefore, frankly 
 admit that in the transactions of the Duke of Mo(h'na 
 with tlu! conspiring Liberals there an' dark ])laces wliich 
 have n(n'er been satisfactorily lighted, and inconsistent 
 deeds for which we can only suggest the motives. The 
 cliit^f actors in this curious episcxU' never spoke out, nor 
 left a written confession ; but the main facts, the external 
 events, are known, and from tliis knowledge of tlic Jioin 
 we can conjecture with more or less j)lausil)ility concern- 
 ing th(^ "'li'J- I^ct us tak(! cart', however, not to mistake 
 our conjectures for facts. 
 
 The I)uk(^ of Modrtia, we may rcniemlx'r. liad so j)ro- 
 digious auaMil)ition that three of its giant's strides in any
 
 350 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 direction took him clean out of his little duchy. He was 
 not one of the languidly covetous, but one who, being 
 endowed with vigorous qualities, pursvied steadfastly the 
 object he coveted. He had been baffled in his designs on 
 the Piedmontese succession, — baffled, but not yet beaten. 
 A believer in the Old Regime, he had forced the sovereigns 
 of the Holy Alliance to regard him as one who, on a small 
 scale, had approved himself a master in persecution ; and 
 if they, or Fate, would but grant him a wider field, he 
 had both the will and the energy to outdo the most viru- 
 lent of them in Herod-like atrocities. He constructed a 
 miniature model of a perfect engine of autocracy ; he had 
 paid agents in all parts of Italy to inform him of the in- 
 trigues of diplomacy and the plots of conspirators. He 
 was closely linked with the extreme Reactionaries at Rome, 
 and he instigated the Sanfedists in their machinations 
 ag'ainst the Liberals. But dearer to him than Sanfedism 
 or Reaction was his personal aggrandizement. Suddenly, 
 towards the close of 1830, it was whispered about that he 
 was secretly encouraging the Liberals in their designs for 
 a general revolution. Just when he turned a friendly ear 
 to them we do not know. It may be that his motive was 
 at first treacherous, — that he pretended friendliness, in 
 order the better to learn their plot and so to foil it ; and 
 then having listened to their seductiA'c projects, he seems 
 to have been fired by the idea that these very conspirators 
 might be the instruments of his ambition. They felt cer- 
 tain of success in the Legations and Piedniont; they had 
 a fighting chance in Lombardy and Tuscany : by collusion 
 with them, therefore, he might in a few months become 
 the sovereign of the larger part of Northern and Central 
 Italy, Once established in so important a kingdom, could 
 he not rule according to liis favorite metliods ? Tlie Ab- 
 solutist Powers, especially Austria, woidd doubtless ob- 
 ject, but he woidd persuade them that the system to which 
 they clung was safe in his hands, and that the peace of
 
 THE REVOLUTIONS OF 1831. 351 
 
 Italy could be secured only by uniting under him the gov- 
 ernment of the several turbulent States. 
 
 That considerations such as these may have induced 
 Francis to connive with the Liberals seems at least plau- 
 sible ; but it is more difficult to suggest why the Liberals 
 accepted him as a confederate.^ None knew better than 
 they his tyrannical nature ; none had more cause to sus- 
 pect the sincerity of his conversion to Liberalism. One 
 fact, however, is plain: a considerable body of the rev- 
 olutionists still attached great weight, in spite of the 
 defection of Charles Albert in 1821, to the prestige that 
 would accrue t© their movement from the c()(')j)eration 
 of a legitimate prince. If they succeeded in their en- 
 terprise, they could disarm the indignation of tlie Holy 
 Alliance by pointing to their leader as a sovereign whom 
 the Alliance itself had deemed worthy to rule. It may 
 be that they were far-sighted enough to perccdve that the 
 first step towards tlie conn)lete indej)cndenoe of Italy must 
 be the fusion of as many of the small provinces as pos- 
 sible under one government: that accom})lished, should 
 Francis prove ungrateful to the forces which had raised 
 him, they could depose him and set up such an adminis- 
 tration, whether monarchical or republican, as the major- 
 ity preferred. Perhaps they meant to use him only as a 
 decoy for drawing as many of the aristocracy as they 
 coidd into their not. I\'rliaps they hoped to discredit all 
 the Italian desj)ots in tlie eyes of Euro]ic, by : bowing 
 that Francis, the most despotic of them all, coidd be lured 
 into conij)licity with the rebels whom he ])rofessed to hate. 
 What(n'er may have ]u'on their motive, history teaches 
 this general truth: ambitious rulers and zealous conspira- 
 tors are never scrupidous in the choice of tools by whi<h 
 they expect to attain their end; no stone is too dirty t) 
 serve them in rising: no biiai- too thorny to be clutched 
 to save them from falling. 
 
 ' Ilianclii in his Ihintti F.-itrnsi iltiH' .\nt\o ISlTj a/ 1>C)() (Turiii. I^^'il.'). 
 p^ives a detailed account of this whoU^ alfair.
 
 852 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Whatever the terms of their union, then, by the close 
 of the year 1830 Francis and the revokitionists were 
 known to be united. The Duke had taken Giro Menotti, 
 the leader of the Modenese conspirators, into his friend- 
 ship, and those who were not in the secret could easily 
 fi^uess the purpose of Menotti's frequent visits to the Ducal 
 Palace. One other actor in the drama deserves mention, 
 a certain Misley, who seems even earlier than Menotti to 
 have won the Duke's confidence, and who was now em- 
 ployed as intermediary between Modena and the Cosmo- 
 politan Committee at Paris. He sent reports of the for- 
 wardness of the preparations there, and of the sympathy 
 which Louis Philippe's ministers expressed for the Italian 
 cause. Menotti went on missionary journeys into Tus- 
 cany and the Legations, inciting the Liberals to rise, and 
 concerting tlie final details of the plot. Pie was most 
 urgent, too, that the Piedmontese should revolt at the 
 appointed day, and that they should decide to join the 
 revolutionary union. ^ The Duke's sister, Maria Theresa, 
 queen-dowager of Piedmont, was also busily renewing 
 her endeavors to secure the Piedmontese throne for Fran- 
 cis, on the death, now imminent, of Charles Felix. In 
 France, William Pepe, with the connivance of Lafayette, 
 had enrolled a thousand volunteers, with whom he was 
 to embark at Marseilles and make a descent on Sicily. 
 Large stores of weapons and ammimition were to be 
 shipped by way of Corsica to the Tuscan coast, where 
 trusty agents would attend to their distribution. ^ Never 
 before had Italian conspirators seemed so well justified in 
 reckoning upon victory. 
 
 What, then, had been the cause of the change in Fran- 
 cis's attitude towards the great enterprise, as referred to 
 in the following note from Menotti to Misley, dated at 
 Modena, January 7, 1831? '*I arrive in this moment 
 from Bologna. I have to tell you that the Duke is a 
 1 Poggi, ii, 6. 2 Caiitu, ii, 269.
 
 THE REVOLUTIONS OF 1831. 353 
 
 regular rascal. I have run serious peril of being killed. 
 The Duke has spread reports through the Sanfedists that 
 you and I are paid agents to form centres and then betray 
 them. This was so strongly believed at Bologna, that I 
 just missed being assassinated. The fact is, that in eight 
 days the entire Romagna had turned against me, but it 
 will come back. . . . Now that I know I am regarded as 
 an agent of the Duke, I will act with such prudence that 
 I shall attain my goal without breaking my promises."^ 
 
 Mystery upon mystery! The Duke already plays a 
 double game, in spite of which Menotti still hopes to 
 bind both the slippery Duke and the suspicious conspira- 
 tors! These are bad omens on the very eve of an enter- 
 prise for whose success harmony and mutual trust are 
 indispensable. Prudence whispers to abandon the plot 
 whose issue must be disastrous ; but to Menotti such whis- 
 perings seem not prudent but cowardly. He is a man 
 whose handsome face and commanding person bespeak a 
 fearless, self-confident nature ; and thei'e is in him a dash 
 of recklessness, as the stories about his desperate amours 
 show; above all, he is only thirty-two, and burns with 
 patriotic ambition. The Duke's defection, therefore, can- 
 not frighten him. 
 
 More than five months had elapsed since Louis Pliilippe 
 had been lifted by the wave of revolution into the Frcncli 
 throne, lie had ])la(^ated the neighboring monarclis and 
 repudiated in ])rivate to them the means of his elevation. 
 Nevertheless, his ministers still parroted the Orleanist 
 watchword of "non-intervention." It was higli time 
 that th«! Italians should rise, unless, indeed, they had 
 realized that tlie lucky moment for rising had sli])]HHl by. 
 They had dchiycd at first in order to perfect their arrange- 
 ments at liome ; then they liad waited for assurance that 
 
 ' Po^Cf^'i. ii, ; see Jilso Hiiiiiclii, Ditniti Kst( nsi, i. 50. l'>i;iii(lii attrih- 
 lUes th(3 I)uk('"s cliaiii^-e of face to his diseovury that Louis Philippe woukl 
 not support the revolution.
 
 354 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 the Spaniards were ready ; now the news came from the 
 Paris Committee that everything was prepared, and they 
 might strike. The 5th of February was fixed upon as 
 the fateful day. But the Duke of Modena's insinuations 
 had sunk into the hearts of the Romagnoles, who bluntly 
 informed ]\[enotti that they distrusted him, and that each 
 province must rebel on its own account. Menotti, still 
 undismayed, gave the last directions to his Modenese 
 confederates ; yet a few days, and events would prove how 
 unjust were the suspicions against him. 
 
 On February 3 the Duke ordered the arrest of Nicho- 
 las Fulvizi and the banishment of Generals Fontanelli 
 and Zucchi, who were involved in the conspiracy; but, 
 as if he still shrank from breaking irrevocably with 
 the party which might fulfil his dream of kingship, he 
 left Menotti, the chief conspirator, unmolested. The 
 latter, believing that to wait longer might defeat their 
 undertaking, hastily arranged that the signal for the 
 insurrection should be given at midnight. That evening 
 about fifteen conspirators assembled at his palace for the 
 final instructions; while they were concerting, a traitor 
 sneaked away and revealed the plot to the police. Pres- 
 ently a squad of gendarmes appeared at Menotti' s palace 
 and attempted to enter, but the conspirators defended 
 themselves so hotly that their assailants withdrew. Then, 
 after a brief quiet, during which hope ran high, the Duke 
 himself, accompanied by a strong force of soldiers and one 
 small cannon, marched into the square. From behind a 
 pillar, he directed the bombardment of the conspirators' 
 nest. They returned the fire, until their ammunition 
 failed, when they had to surrender. Menotti, wounded 
 in the skirmish, was carried off by the Duke, who a few 
 hours later sent to the Governor of Reggio this famous 
 dispatch: "To-night a terrible plot has burst against me. 
 The conspirators are in my hands. Sejid me tlie execu- 
 tioner." But before even so prompt an avenger as Fran-
 
 THE REVOLUTIONS OF 1831. 355 
 
 cis could huiTy his prisoners to the scaffold, the news 
 reached him that the Pope's subjects were in revolt, 
 and that the neighboring Bolognese were marching or\ 
 Modena to rescue Menotti and his fellow - conspirators. 
 Without waiting for the confirmation of this report, 
 Francis, in alarm, on February 5, retired to Mantua, 
 whence he sought protection from the Austrians, In his 
 flight he took Menotti with him, some said to be a hostage 
 to deter the Modenese rebels from wreaking vengeance 
 on the ducal partisans who were left behind ; others said 
 to prevent Menotti from disclosing secrets which would 
 have made the Duke as intolerable to Austria as he was 
 now odious to the Italians. 
 
 The revolution had, in fact, broken out on February 4 
 in the Papal States. At Bologna, bands of excited cit- 
 izens fdled the air with shouts of "Liberty and Inde- 
 pendence;" and when the police remonstrated, they 
 showed a disposition to reinforce their shouts with vio- 
 lence. The Prolegate, being informed by the commander 
 of the gendarmerie and the commander of the garrison 
 that their men could not be relied upon to quell an out- 
 break, called a conference of nobles of reputed loyalty. 
 They, too, advised against measures which would pi-ovoke 
 a civil war at a crisis in which the government was evi- 
 dently weaker than its o])ponents ; but they were willing, 
 if the Prolegate deemed it expedient to hasten to Rome 
 for instructions, to undertake to preserve order in his 
 absence. Accordingly, on the next day he a})pointed a 
 Teinj)orary Commission, and de])arte(l. There was no 
 Idood s})illed, nor so much as a broken head. 
 
 As when, on a given day in early sjiring, nil the almcmd 
 orcliards in th(! same belt of sunshine hurst into blossom, 
 so along the Adriatic^ coast town after town bedecked 
 itself with the tricolor flags and joyous as])ect of Freedom, 
 luiola and Faenza freed themselves without a stiiigt^Ie; 
 at Parma, Maria Louisa found that lu'r snbjects would
 
 35G THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 fight rather than give up the holiday of independence on 
 which they had set their hearts, so she quitted her little 
 capital and left them to their merry-making ; at Ferrara, 
 the presence of the Austrian garrison did not hinder the 
 formation of a Provisional Government composed of 
 Liberals; at Forli, as at Ravenna, there was a brief con- 
 test between the revolutionists and the ecclesiastical gov- 
 ernor, and in both cases the prelate withdrew ; at Pesaro, 
 the National Guards, throwing away the papal banner and 
 setting up the tricolor, elected Sercognani, a veteran of 
 the Napoleonic wars, to command them, and under his 
 leadership they marched gayly southward, till they had 
 opened the gates of all the cities and towns as far as 
 Spoleto to the harbingers of Liberty. It seemed as if 
 the inhabitants of Emilia and the Roman State were cel- 
 ebrating some national festival, or had given themselves 
 up to the sweet transports of a general joy, rather than 
 that they were engaged in so grave and perilous a busi- 
 ness as an attempt to shake off the yoke of immemorial 
 tyranny. Success so instantaneous and so easy might 
 well instil forebodings into sober hearts, if there were 
 such, as they reflected that the blessings which the gods 
 grant quickly they quickly recall. 
 
 But surely, we exclaim, even a blear-eyed and palsied 
 government like that of the Vatican must have had ink- 
 lings of the impending danger and must have made some 
 effort to avert it. As with decrepit old men, so with 
 decrepit rulers, — their tenacity of life often increases in 
 proportion as their vitality wanes. Had those aged 
 Papalists lost their passion for dominion, the primal in- 
 stinct of the Papacy? Would they wrap their purple 
 cloaks round them, and calmly await death, as ancient 
 Romans had once awaited Brennus and his barbarians in 
 the Senate House? Or did they think to exorcise the 
 Demon of Revolution by droning masses and sprinkling 
 holy water? No, none of these things was true of the
 
 THE KEVOLUTIONS OF 1831. 357 
 
 Boman hierarchy : it was weak, but not resigned ; it was 
 hard-pressed, but it would concede nothing. 
 
 The insurrection had beset it at an embarrassing cri- 
 sis. On November 30, 1830, Pius VIII, a paralytic old 
 gentleman, who had succeeded Leo XII in the previous 
 year, died, and the interregnimi which ensued had been 
 seized upon by the conspirators as a heaven-sent occasion 
 for achieving their plans. The Conclave dragged on 
 through many weeks, to the satisfaction of the plotters, 
 and to the disgust of the Roman shopkeejiers and land- 
 lords, who were thereby deprived of the profits they 
 always reaped during the Carnival season. The factions 
 in the Sacred College fought stubbornly, for in these lat- 
 ter days the Conclave must select not only a pope agree- 
 able to the Catholic Powers, but also a secretary of state, 
 this dignitary having become a personage of greater in- 
 fluence than the Pope himself. Indeed, so jealously is 
 the Holy Father guarded, he can only know what his 
 chief minister chooses to report to him, and his official 
 acts, therefore, are often merely echoes of the policy 
 thrust upon him by his advisers. In the Conclave of 
 1830-31, Cardinal Albani, Austria's faithful minion, 
 was bent on defeating every candidate who would not 
 promise to appoint him to the secretaryship of State; 
 and for nearly two months there was such a conflict of 
 jealousies, wranglings, underhand intrigues and deceits 
 as prevented an elecition. Finally, on February 1 the 
 secrecy of the Conclave was violated by the clandestine 
 introduction of a letter from the Duke of Modena, in 
 which he informed the Cardinals tliat a revolution was 
 about to explode, and he urged them, if they woidd save 
 their countiy from destruction, to agree immediately upon 
 a pope. Thus alarmed, on tlie following day they elected 
 Cardinal C^appcllari, wlio took tlie name Gregory XVI, 
 and made Cardinal l>ernctti his premier.^ 
 
 1 Biiuichi, iii, 2'.>-12.
 
 358 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Three days later the new Pope had tidings of the in- 
 surrection in Modena and the Legations. Every succes- 
 sive courier brought gloomier reports, and erelong the 
 fugitive prolegates and ousted governors came panting 
 and frightened into Rome, to spread panic among the 
 ecclesiastics and joy among the Liberals. The Papal 
 ministry saw that it could neither put down the rebel- 
 lious provinces, nor defend the Holy City itself, should 
 the insurgents attack it from without, or their confeder- 
 ates within rise in a body. Terror-stricken, Gregory 
 secretly besought the King of Naples to lend him some 
 Swiss regiments in order that the Vatican at least might 
 be protected; but the young King, Ferdinand II, who 
 had succeeded his father Francis on November 8, 1830, 
 refused the demand, either because he feared an outbreak 
 among his own subjects, or because he did not wish to 
 give oifense to his uncle, Louis Philippe. The Pope 
 also wrote to the Austrian emperor, not officially asking 
 aid, — for he trembled at the French shibboleth, "non- 
 intervention," — but painting the situation of the Papal 
 States in colors so lurid, that Austria might be moved of 
 her own accord to hasten to his rescue.^ If Austria took 
 the hint, he could wash his hands of responsibility for 
 any quarrel between her and France. To his "best be- 
 loved subjects" he addressed an edict, February 9, in 
 which he assured them that he was only solicitous of 
 their welfare; he chid them gently for allowing them- 
 selves to be led astray at a moment when the Holy See 
 was vacant, but he promised them "pity and pardon,'' 
 and to interpose his prayers between them and God's 
 punishment if they showed their penitence by immediate 
 submission.^ As well might he have expected to dispel 
 an epidemic of cholera by proclamation ! 
 
 The insurgents, reveling in their easy victory and still 
 
 1 Bianchi iii, 49 ; Pogg-i, ii, 18-20. 
 
 2 Text in Gualterio : Ultimi Rivolgimenti Ilaliani (2d edit.), i, 309-12.
 
 THE REVOLUTIONS OF 1831. 359 
 
 guiltless of bloody excesses, applied themselves without 
 delay to the task of giving their ])rovisional governments 
 a permanent form. At Bologna, on February 8, it was 
 decreed that the temporal dominion of the Pope over that 
 city and province, having ceased in fact, should never 
 more be recognized in law, and that a general election 
 should be held to choose deputies.^ The tribunals were 
 remodeled after the French system, and a new tariff of 
 taxes was drawn up. General Zucchi hurried to take 
 command of the disaffected troops at Modena. In order 
 not to excite the hostility of the Orleanist monarchy, 
 Louis Bonaparte, the putative son of the ex-King of Hol- 
 land, and his elder brother Charles, who had for months 
 past furnished money for the revolution, and had person- 
 ally contributed to its success, were induced to retire 
 from Bologna to Forli, where Charles died soon after- 
 ward.^ The Bolognese also dispatched envoys into Tus- 
 cany, to assure the Grand Duke that they had no in- 
 tention of molesting him, and incidentally to virge the 
 Tuscan Liberals to strike for liberty. The manifestoes 
 launclied by the Papal Secretary of State, as a boy 
 launches paper boats on a rip])led pool, scarcely attracted 
 the attention of the insurgents, although they, as parti- 
 sans of "felony and irreligion," were therein threatened 
 with exconmiunication. And wlien (^ardinal Benvenuti, 
 charged witli ])lenary ])owors, risked liimself in the rebel- 
 lious provinces, lu' was taken ])ris()iicr and conveyed to 
 Ancona. For a l)rief timi! there was unwonted blithe- 
 heartedness among the Italian revolutionists, for tliey ])ut 
 faith in the French chx-trine of non-intervention, and they 
 had no misgivings but tliat, if undisturbed l»y Austi'ia, 
 they could constitute and maintain a Liberal government 
 in Ctuitral Italy. 
 
 Vain was their coniich'nce! delusive were their ho})es! 
 
 ' T.'xt, in Gualtorio, i, 312. 
 ■' r..t;gi, ii, 17-18.
 
 360 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Non-intervention might be declared by France, but would 
 the other Powers respect it? Metternich could neither 
 be fooled nor frightened by a mere phrase, and, even 
 before the Italian revolt, he had penetrated the artifices 
 of Louis Philippe and his ministers. To make France 
 ridiculous by carrying out Austria's immemorial policy, 
 in spite of French bravado, was henceforth his purpose. 
 Therefore, on March 5, General Frimont, the Austrian 
 commander in Northern Italy, began operations against 
 Modena. Metternich was already sure of Russia's con- 
 sent to his intervention, and he did not fear England, 
 who limited herself to expressing the opinion that the 
 outbreak in the Papal States was due to the evil govern- 
 ment, and that she would have preferred that pacific 
 negotiations had been exhausted before forcible repression 
 was resorted to.^ In his messages to the French Cabi- 
 net, the Austrian chancellor insisted that his only desire 
 was to check anarchy, and he did not spare vague hints 
 that, if the Orleanist king continued to cherish the rev- 
 olutionary viper, he might discover, too late, that his 
 nursling was of the Napoleonic brood. " We know that 
 the movement in Italy is a Bonapartist one," said he. 
 "We are resolved to resist it. The Emperor owes so 
 much to his Empire, and to all that is yet left standing 
 in Europe. By this determination we at the same time 
 render the most signal service to King Louis Philippe. 
 If, on the simplest showing, there was an incompatibility 
 between his existence and that of a subordinate member 
 of the Bonapartist family on a throne contiguous to weak 
 and feeble France, how much more real does that incom- 
 patibility become in view of an Italy placed beneath the 
 sceptre of Napoleon II? Yet this is the direct object of 
 the party of anarchy against which we are still strug- 
 gling." ^ The presence of Charles and Louis Bonaparte 
 in the Romagna; the recent attempt to abduct Napoleon 
 
 ^ Bianchi, iii, 52-3. ^ Memoirs, v, 104,
 
 THE REVOLUTIONS OF 1831. 361 
 
 II from Vienna, with the view to proclaiming him king 
 at Rome ; ^ and the expected descent of Achille Murat 
 upon the Kingdom of Naples, ^ naturally gave a semblance 
 of truth to the assertion that the Italian movement was 
 only an ill-disgiiised Bonapartist plot. Metternich went 
 even so far as to intimate that Austria, if driven to bay, 
 might release Napoleon II, and use him as a lever for over- 
 throwing the July monarchy ; ^ for the Napoleonist infat- 
 uation was growing stronger in France, and the presence 
 of the son of the Great Emperor might suffice to render 
 it irresistible. Louis Philippe needed not these disagree- 
 able reminders that his throne was founded on quick- 
 sands ; at heart, he had no other desire than to be allowed 
 to establish his dynasty by exterminating Bonapartist and 
 Bourbon enemies at home; but he was entangled in a 
 dilemma, and he had neither the strength nor the sincer- 
 ity to escape from it. 
 
 Meanwhile, into the midst of this whirl of wordy chaff 
 Metternich had thrown his blunt, solid fact: Austria, 
 flouting the principle of non-intervention, was actually 
 stifling the rebellion in Central Italy. But French 
 national dignity, always sensitive and (juick to impute 
 insult, and French glory, always insatiate and never 
 squeamish about the food provided for it, — liow would 
 Louis Pliilippe reckon with them? To C^isimir I^crier, 
 now President of the Ministry, fell the task of juggling 
 with these inconvenient elements of Freneli public o])iu- 
 ion. "I do not believe," he said to tlie Clunuber of Dej)- 
 uties, "that France should hold herself ])le(l^-e(l to carry 
 her arms whithersoever the principle of non-intervention 
 may be violated. Where this wei-e done, there would 
 arise a new kind of intervention ; the pretensions of the 
 Holy Alliance would be resuscitated; we should fall a 
 j)rey to the chimerical ambition of all those who wished 
 to subject Furope to the yoke of a single idea and to 
 1 liiiinflii, iii, '.',:',:]. -' Ibul. •.\:]l-i2. » /^/,/^ .•>.i.-,.
 
 362 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 vitalize universal monarchy. Understood in that fashion, 
 the principle of non-intervention would serve as a spur 
 to the spirit of conquest. We shall uphold that princi- 
 ple everywhere by means of negotiation; but only the in- 
 terest and dignity of France could induce us to draw our 
 sword. We do not recognize in any people the right to 
 lead us to fight for its cause ; the blood of the French be- 
 longs to France alone." ^ This official elucidation of the 
 meaning of the chief dogma of the July monarchy was 
 unexpected, but being spoken with authority, it must be 
 orthodox. Nevertheless, there were many French Radi- 
 cals whom the interpretation dissatisfied, and who did not 
 hesitate to accuse the government of allowing the honor 
 of France to be smirched. 
 
 To appease these grumblers, Perier, at the very mo- 
 ment in which he was secretly informing Austria that 
 "France wovdd in no wise suffer the overturn of the tem- 
 poral power of the Pope,"^ dispatched Count Sainte- 
 Aulaire on a special mission to Rome, to induce the Pope 
 to get rid of the Austrian troops as soon as possible. 
 Metternich, who had already secvired his twofold aim of 
 discrediting the principle of non - intervention and of 
 making Austria for the third time the queller of Italian 
 Liberalism, professed that as an evidence of his peaceful 
 intention he would consent to the evacuation of all the 
 provinces lately in revolt, leaving garrisons only in An- 
 cona and Bologna until such time as the Papal govern- 
 ment should declare itself strono- enough to curb another 
 outbreak. In Rome, Sainte - Aulaire consulted with 
 representatives of Austria, Prussia, Russia, England, and 
 Piedmont concerning the reforms which should be recom- 
 mended to the Pope for the maintenance of order among 
 his subjects. In participating in a conference whose 
 object was to meddle with the internal administration of 
 an independent sovereign, France thus violated her own 
 
 ^ Bianchi, iii, 60. ^ _ " Ibid, 64.
 
 THE REVOLUTIONS OF 1831. 363 
 
 principle of non-intervention ; but of what use was it to 
 charge her with another inconsistency? As well blame 
 a weather-cock for fickleness. The Papal government 
 cordially detested the officiousness of the Great Powers 
 in its behalf, but lacking material vigor to oppose, it 
 poured out assurances of its gratitude, and professed to 
 be willing to be guided by its troublesome friends. At 
 length a Memorandum was drawn up, and signed by all 
 the envoys, except the English, who had declared that 
 the only way to establish pei-manent reforms was to secu- 
 larize the papal administration, and who now declined to 
 guarantee the temporal power of the Papacy.^ The Aus- 
 trian garrisons had lingered on, in spite of the secret ex- 
 hortations of Sainte-Aulaire, and the French ministers 
 at Paris had more and more difficulty in kee])ing up their 
 bombastic role. Only a little while ago they had i)ut on 
 a fierce and martial scowl, and warned Austria that she 
 must immediately evacuate the States of the Church, or 
 take the consequences; now, witli equal robustiousness, 
 they warned her that, if she dared to interfere in Pied- 
 mont, they would let slip the Gallic war-dogs ui)on her. 
 Since there was no reason for her to meddle in Piedmont, 
 however, the latter tlireat could have served no other 
 purpose than to make Mettcrnich laugh. In liis own 
 good time, about the middle of July, he ordered the 
 Austrian regiments out of the Legations; in so doing, he 
 announced that it was the determination of Emperor 
 Fi'.-incis to respond to any future api)eals for aid that the 
 Holy Fatlier might send.'- 
 
 Austria, liaving with impunity bedeviled the French 
 })et fornnda, an<l havujg given notice that she woidd do 
 so again, the international ])hase of th^' Italian revolt 
 seemed to be concluded; it only remained for the Fi'ench 
 (Vbinet to expound the transaction in such wise as to 
 connnend it and themselves to their fi'llow-countrynien. 
 ' Bianchi, iii, W). - MetU'riiicli, v, ll'.>, TJl.
 
 364 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 M. Perier, as wizard-in-chief to Louis Philippe, was the 
 first to conjure up for the edification of the French 
 Chamber a phantom of victory from the dispatches and 
 blue-books which contained full evidence of the snubs, 
 rebuffs, and defeats which his diplomacy had suffered 
 at the hands of Metternich. "Romagna has been paci- 
 fied," Perier began. "That feeble insurrection which 
 could not liberate her was not able to drag her down 
 with itself in its oppression. Thanks to our negotiations, 
 useful reforms have been in part assured. What more 
 was there to do? When our government was formed, 
 the Italian events were already under way. We found 
 the Duchy of Modena already occuj)ied by the Austrians ; 
 they were already on the road to Romagna. We then 
 promised that, even though they penetrated, they should 
 not occupy that province. The promise made has been 
 maintained. Italy breathes again, and but for us she 
 would by this time be the theatre of sanguinary reactions. 
 These are facts, gentlemen, which attest that, but for 
 France and but for what she did, the States of the Holy 
 See would be now covered by a foreign soldiery, by pro- 
 scriptions, by confiscations. France spared Italy the 
 most grievous consequences of an abortive attempt, and 
 universal peace is assured."-^ Marshal Sebastiani also 
 tried to extract glory out of insult, like the philosophical 
 gentleman who proposed to extract sunbeams out of cu- 
 cumbers. "I appeal to your consciences, to your jus- 
 tice," said he to the deputies, "to know if we have not 
 fulfilled all our duties, and if the honor of France has 
 not remained intact in the negotiations concerning Italy? " 
 Even the King, in his speech from the throne, expatiated 
 on the noble achievements won by his diplomacy; but 
 Cardinal Bernetti, in republishing the royal address, 
 gave the lie to some of its falsehoods, nor would he re- 
 tract, when requested to do so by the French ambassador. ^ 
 1 Bianchi, iii, 91-2. 2 ji^i^^ 93,
 
 THE REVOLUTIONS OF 1831. 365 
 
 This, then, was the humiliating collapse of the bubble 
 of non-intervention which the Oileanist ministers blew 
 skywards, proclaiming that it should henceforth be as a 
 sun to iUumine European diplomacy. The French had 
 neither hindered Austria's armed interference in Central 
 Italy, nor compelled her to withdraw a day earlier than 
 she was willing: whether their strutting policy deterred 
 her from annexing the Legations — a dream she was 
 supposed to cherish — is doubtful, because there is no 
 evidence that she then deemed the time ripe for that act 
 of aggrandizement. 
 
 The Orleans monarchy, so shuffling and uncandid, as 
 we have seen, could wriggle out of its humiliation, but 
 the Italian Liberals, who had staked their lives on the 
 assimiption that the principle of non-intervention woidd 
 be upheld, had no evasive phrase in which to disguise 
 their defeat, nor noble memories to sweeten their regret 
 and inspire fresh hope. They had simply over-trusted, 
 and they had been duped. We have no need to follow 
 the path of the Austrian invasion which swept down their 
 provisional governments like card - houses. An occa- 
 sional resistance, a skirmish at Kimini, a last stand at 
 Ancona, proved that the Liberal recruits did not lack 
 braveiy ; but could bravery without discipline avail, when 
 one man was pitted against five or ten? The gn'at body 
 of revolutionists therefore submitted, while a few score 
 of their leaders, fearing the Popci's vengeance, took ship 
 for Corfu, but being captui-ed by an Austrian man-of- 
 war, they were conveyed to Vi'uice, and conlined there for 
 several months. 
 
 And now was witnessed the usual rctiiuic of persecu- 
 tions which foHow unsuccessful rel)elliou. In the States 
 of the Church, inih'cd, tlie retaliation was less severe 
 than it would liavc been liad not the re])i'esentatives of 
 tlu; (ireat Powers been still at Kouu^ suggesting reforms 
 which the Papal government promised to carry out.
 
 366 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Amnesty was granted to all but thirty-eight of the fore- 
 most rebels, but there were many ways by which the gov- 
 ernment could show its real temper towards amnestied 
 insurgents without directly torturing them, and these 
 ways it employed. The police pestered the suspects with 
 exasperating restrictions, and the Sanfedists, sure of offi- 
 cial sympathy, renewed their bullying irritation. Above 
 all, the Pope refused to ratify the terms to which Cardi- 
 nal Benvenuti, his legate, had agreed when the rebels 
 capitulated ; his excuse being, that since the Cardinal had 
 previously been a prisoner, any compact that he made 
 was vitiated by the suspicion that it had been forced upon 
 him. 
 
 In Modena the Duke signalized his restoration by a 
 repetition of cruelties which in 1822 had horrified Italy. 
 Several of the conspirators were condemned to death, but 
 the sentence was executed only upon Menotti and Borelli. 
 As Menotti was the most conspicuous victim of the rev- 
 olution of 1831, so he became in the imagination, not 
 only of the Modenese but of all Italians, its martyr-hero. 
 The mystery which surrounded his relations with the 
 Duke, the paradox of a tyrant joining a conspiracy of 
 Liberals, the perfidy of the Duke, and the manliness 
 with which Menotti died, wove legendary veils about his 
 memory, so that it is impossible even now for the histo- 
 rian always to separate myth and hearsay from fact. That 
 Francis had Menotti executed in order to preclude him 
 from revealing momentous secrets was generally believed 
 by his friends, and still seems probable. Henceforth, the 
 Duchy of Modena groaned under a tyranny which left no 
 excuse for even the most confiding Liberal to imagine 
 that the Duke could be enticed again into the patriotic 
 camj). The uncontested succession of Charles Albert to 
 the throne of Piedmont, April 2, 1831, dashed forever the 
 Duke's ho])e of ruling there, whilst reci'nt events could 
 but teach him the folly of his other dreams of power.
 
 THE REVOLUTIONS OF 1831. 367 
 
 Parma, after Maria Louisa's return, showed a happy 
 contrast to Modena, no one being persecuted for his com- 
 plicity in the late tumult. In Piedmont, Tuscany, and 
 the Two Sicilies, the efforts of the agitators had failed 
 to do more than increase the anxiety, and therefore the 
 vigilance, of the governments. The proposed invasion 
 of Savoy, the landing of troops and munitions on the 
 Tuscan coast, the swoop of William Pepe and his legion 
 on Sicily, the descent of Murat's son on Naples, — all 
 those brave schemes of the Paris Committee had to be 
 abandoned, owing to the deceitf ulness of the French gov- 
 ernment. 
 
 Yet the inhabitants of the Papal States could not, in 
 spite of the flogging Austria had given them, reconcile 
 themselves to defeat. Their day - dream had been too 
 delightful to be renounced, their chagrin and misery were 
 too keen to be borne without murnuirs. They grew des- 
 perate, reckless, and, like angry children, they cared not 
 whether they were whipped again or not. The Austrian 
 troops had hardly been withdrawn before it became evi- 
 dent that the Pope's government was still too weak to 
 ])reserve order. He reorganized the pontifical army; he 
 (a-eated a body of centiu'ions; he appealed to loyal subjects 
 to enroll tliemselves in a volunteer corps ; he hirtnl two 
 regiments of mercenaries from Switzerland, — that stud 
 of dcspicablt; freemen, — and yet he was unable to sup- 
 ])ress th«^ turbulents. During the autumn of 1881 Ho- 
 magnawas the scenii of constant broils Ix'twccn tlie Papal- 
 ists and the sectaiies. A Civic (Juard took })osscssion 
 of several of the towns, aiul under the })lea of Liberty 
 connuitted outrages, and kept decent citizens of whatever 
 l)arty in a state of tre])i(lation. The sectaries squabbled 
 among tliemst'lves and luauifested that they were oulv 
 sti'oug in their capacity for doini;- harm. The Lilierals 
 wlio had led the previous revobitiou and who had gixcn 
 to it a worthv character if not victorv, bein<r now in exile.
 
 368 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 the leadership inevitably fell to more violent and less 
 disinterested men : and we are not surprised to learn that 
 when, at the request of Cardinal Albani, who had been 
 sent to restore order and had failed, the Austrian troops 
 marched back into Romagna and put down this second 
 revolt, they were welcomed by all respectable Romagnoles 
 as the extirpators of anarchy. Then Cardinal Albani, 
 having the foreign army to support him, proceeded to 
 purge the country by drastic measures which recalled the 
 severity of Rivarola.^ 
 
 This second intervention of the Austrians revived the 
 diplomatic controversy of the preceding spring. The 
 French ministry, by its shuffling and treachery, had in- 
 curred the detestation of the Italian Liberals, whom it 
 had duped, and of the French Republicans and Imperial- 
 ists, who still smarted at the thought that they had been 
 the cat's-paw for Louis Philippe's ambition. Through- 
 out the autumn of 1831 the French ministerial policy 
 was aimed, therefore, at conciliating the Great Powers, 
 by assuring them that France ceded to none in her desire 
 to uphold the temporal administration of the Pope, and 
 at conciliating the rebellious Romagnoles, by recognizing 
 that they had just cause for complaining : only, before 
 they could expect France to interfere in their behalf, they 
 must lay down their arms and submit to the Pope's au- 
 thority. To which hot-and-cold advice, one of the Lib- 
 erals replied: "How can confidence and submission be 
 engendered towards a government which, after fifteen 
 years of intolerable abuses and errors, having scarcely 
 recovered from the consternation of all but general revo- 
 lution, returns to the same rut, and repeats the same 
 errors." 2 As the situation in the Legations grew worse, 
 and it became evident that something more than the 
 moral disapproval of the Great Powers was needed to 
 bring back quiet, the anxiety of the French Cabinet iu- 
 
 ^ Farini, i, 57-62. ^ Bianclii, iii, 98.
 
 THE REVOLUTIONS OF 1831. 369 
 
 creased. On one side Perier was confronted by the fact 
 that Austria, Russia, and Prussia secretly hated the July 
 monarchy as the product of a revolution ; if he angered 
 them, they might declare war; on the other side, he had 
 to reckon with a large l)ody of Frenchmen who were eager 
 to overturn a government which they accused of double- 
 dealing towards them and of cowardly subservience to the 
 Northern autocrats. After long search, the bewildered 
 premier found an expedient which he hoped would sat- 
 isfy every one. Foreseeing that the Pope would be forced 
 to call for aid from Austria, he acknowledged that such 
 intervention would be both the most legitimate and ex- 
 peditious method. "But, on the other hand," he contin- 
 ued, " we must not forget that, if France ought to respect 
 that legitimate influence which Austria may exercise in 
 Italy, she ought not, therefore, to allow that influence to 
 become excessive. Should it happen, then, that the Im- 
 perial forces were again obliged to occupy the Papal 
 States, French troops also will appear there, if only, so 
 to speak, as a mere formality. A battalion or two of our 
 soldiers would ))e sent to Ancona; they would suffice to 
 attain the simple moral result we have in view. So small 
 a corps coidd not arouse just fears of wars against any 
 one."^ When the Austrian ambassador ])ointed out that 
 there was a radical difference between intervention when 
 requested by tlie legitimate sovereign of the Papal States 
 and such imasked for intervention as tlie French minister 
 proposed, Prrier was unconvinei'd. ''At any rate," said 
 he, "we shall enter the P()])c's dominions together with 
 you. The honor of France demands it." 
 
 Sainte-Aulain^ feigned surprise when the news reached 
 Rome that th«> Austrians had rcoccnpied the Legations. 
 He protested to Cardinal Bernetti, the Pa])al Secretary, 
 but the latter threw the i-es|)()iisil)ilit y on Cardinal Al- 
 bani, who, he said, had followed his own judgment in 
 
 1 Biaiichi, iii, Inl.
 
 370 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 calling in the Emperor's troops. Then ensued a clash of 
 intrigues between the French and the Austrian agents at 
 the Holy See. The former besought the Pope to make 
 an official request for, or at least to sanction, the Frencdi 
 occupation of Ancona, because, he said, it was not just 
 that the head of the Catholic world should allow Austria 
 alone the privilege of guaranteeing his inviolability. 
 Metternich's man parried guile with guile: he told the 
 Pope that the French were, at heart, revolutionists ; that 
 it was their collusion which had promoted the insurrection 
 of 1831 ; and that, even granting that they were now sin- 
 cere in their professions of friendship for the Holy See, 
 their entrance into Ancona might kindle a general war, 
 of which the Pope, the Vicar of the Prince of Peace, 
 would thus be the indirect originator. In this diplomatic 
 parry-and-thrust the Austrian fencer excelled his French 
 rival, and the Pope stolidly refused to acknowledge the 
 necessity of French interference.^ 
 
 But the French Cabinet had ventured too far to re- 
 treat; its own existence, perhaps also that of the Orlean- 
 ist monarchy, depended upon Perier's decision to risk 
 the high-handed stroke he had long threatened. So he 
 ordered a French squadron to proceed immediately from 
 Toulon to Ancona. On February 22, 1832, the French 
 vessels entered the latter port, and during the night dis- 
 embarked eighteen hundred soldiers. The French cap- 
 tains, Gallois and Combes, called upon the Papal com- 
 mander to allow them to occupy the citadel, as had been 
 agreed, they declared, between their government and the 
 Holy See. The commander replied that he had heard 
 of no such agreement, but, being threatened with a can- 
 nonade, he yielded. Accordingly, on February 23, the 
 Papal flag was lowered and the French tricolor hoisted, 
 and Captain Gallois, whilst his soldiers mingled with the 
 populace of the town and taught them how to sing the 
 
 ^ Bianclii. iii. 10.")-7 ; Gualterio. i, 106-8.
 
 THE REVOLUTIONS OF 1831. 371 
 
 "Marseillaise" after the vehement fashion of '93, set 
 about inditing a Hauiboyant procilamation. In the hands 
 of men accustomed to use the sword the pen is seldom 
 mightier than the sword; Gallois's manifesto bristled 
 with indiscretions that might have stung Austria to de- 
 clare war; but fortunately, Cubieres, a political agent 
 who had been dispatched by the French government, 
 reached Ancona in time to prevent the placarding of the 
 lively captain's effusion, although copies of it got abroad 
 among the foreign ministers, to incense the Pope and 
 Metternich, and to cause Perier additional embarrass- 
 ment.^ 
 
 As soon as the fact of the French occupation was 
 known at Rome, the Papal Secretary protested against it. 
 He informed the French ambassador that the only repara- 
 tion possible was the immediate recall of an expedition 
 which, in lawlessness and effrontery, had had no equal 
 since the days of the Saracen corsairs. But Sainte- 
 Aulaire had no authority to repudiate tlie display of vigor 
 on which, as he well knew, the very life of liis govern- 
 ment hung, and he therefore apologized for the rudeness 
 of (iallois and Combes, without offering to give up the 
 positions they had seized. For a while he insisted that 
 he had honestly believed that the Popi; would consent to 
 the intervention, but when Cardinal Rcruetti, by refer- 
 ring to the minutes of the notes that had passed between 
 them, proved that there was no ground for this belief, he 
 allowed liiiuself to be made tlie scapegoat of the Cabinet 
 at Paris, and took u})()n himself the blame for the misun- 
 derstanding. - 
 
 Metternieli, meanwhile, ])robed tlie intentions of the 
 (ireat Powers in the liope of discovering them united for 
 war. England, then in travail with her lu'form Bill, 
 declared that slu; sympathized with the French exjx'di- 
 
 ' r.i.-iuclii, iii. lOS-IO; I'o^^^n, ii, (C, 7 ; Fariiii. i. (12 ; Ciiultvrio. i. 110. 
 ' Hiiinclii, iii, 1 17 sn/.
 
 372 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 tion, but it was evident that she would take no active part 
 in a Continental quarrel ; Prussia announced that, so long 
 as the conflict was restricted to Italy, she would remain 
 neutral, but if it spread North of the Alps, she would 
 consult her interests before choosing her allies ; only Rus- 
 sia was willing to follow immediately Austria's lead. In 
 this absence of harmony, Metternich, mindful of the fact 
 that a war with France would precipitate a mortal strug- 
 gle between Autocracy and the revolutionary elements of 
 all Europe, prudently decided to treat the Ancona affair 
 as too trivial to warrant an apjieal to arms. But he gave 
 orders for the Austrian forces in Italy to be increased, 
 and to be held on the alert against any attempt of the 
 French to advance beyond Ancona, and he urged the 
 Papal government not to retract a single jot of its pro- 
 test, nor to pause in its demand that the French should 
 withdraw forthwith.^ Towards the French Cabinet he 
 assumed a condescending attitude, as of an all-wise mas- 
 ter of diplomacy, who criticises the blunders of a novice 
 whom he might punish if he did not prefer to laugh at 
 him. He knew that sarcasm will often dissolve obstacles 
 which it would be dangerous to blow up with gunpowder. 
 So he pointed out how easy it was for inexj^uerienced 
 diplomats to be tumbled headlong into a mire of incon- 
 sistencies, merely because they gave the rein to a hobby : 
 only last year, for instance, the French had taken the 
 world to witness that they would do battle in behalf of 
 their chosen principle, non-intervention; and now they 
 themselves are violating that principle by occupying 
 Ancona. The}^ excuse themselves for this folly, by de- 
 claring that they wish to hasten the evacuation of the 
 Papal States by the Austrians ; but the Austrians, who 
 were just on the point of going, will now remain. M. 
 Perier will find, Metternich said to ^Marshal ^Slaison, the 
 French ambassador at Vienna, that he has '"lent his 
 
 ^ Bianehi. iii, 114 sfO.
 
 THE REVOLUTIONS OF 1831. 373 
 
 countenance to a farce ; to go to Ancona merely to re- 
 treat from it immediately is an error, and if in order 
 to shift the blame oft' his own shoulders he were ever to 
 allow himself to make it appear that our departure was 
 due to the appearance of a French expeditionary force, 
 he would compel us to give his statements a public dis- 
 claimer. . . . You will have to avow yourselves the 
 friends of revolt and the patrons of anarchy." ^ 
 
 M. Perier, however, who was working to save his own 
 ministry, having long since dropped his pretense of be- 
 ing actuated by sympathy for the Italians, took Metter- 
 nich's sarcasm without wincing, nay, almost with grati- 
 tude, as soon as he saw that there would be no war. Let 
 diplomatic experts laugh at his comic-opera seizure of 
 Ancona, his glory-loving countrymen had taken it seri- 
 ously as an exploit worthy of the Grand Nation ; and so 
 long as the deed had dazzled the French, he could afford 
 to make lavish apology to Mctteruich and the irate Pope. 
 He refused to witlulraw his troo})s, — that woidd have 
 been fatal to his prospects at home, — but he recalled and 
 reprimanded the over-zealous Gallois and Combes; he 
 agreed that France should defray all the expenses of the 
 garrison, that the Papal banner should again float over 
 the citadel of Ancona, that the Papal authorities in the 
 town itself should in no wise be disturbed, and that tlie 
 garrison should return to France wh(!uever the Austrian 
 troops had evacuated the States of the Church. Pope 
 Gregory made a virtue of necessity and consented that the 
 French shoidd temporarily remain; or, as he ex])ressed it 
 in pious verbiage, he wished to set tlie world an example 
 of mihbiess, one of the noblest characteristics of divine 
 religion, and to avert any wrangh' which might })lunge 
 Europe in war.- 
 
 Thus ended tlie Ancona nfVair. whicli served T^ouis 
 Philip[)e and liis Cal)inet as a ruse whereby thev fooled a 
 * Metternk;h, v, 200. - Jii;iiiclii, iii, iL'S.
 
 374 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 part of the French people, but which gave France no real 
 influence in Italy and did not contribute to the improve- 
 ment of the political lot of the Italians. During the first 
 few weeks of the French occupation, the Italian Liberals 
 and conspirators had, indeed, been encouraged to hope 
 that their deliverance was at hand ; for the French soldiers 
 talked bravely of driving the Austrians out of their coun- 
 try, and French agents went about instigating rebellion : 
 but as soon as Perier came to an agreement with the Pa- 
 pal government, the Italians discovered that these pro- 
 ceedings were unavithorized, and thereafter the garrison 
 was forbidden to associate with the natives. 
 
 Our survey of this diplomatic intrigue would be incom- 
 plete, if we failed to note that it has been asserted that 
 the French government, before dispatching the expedition 
 to Ancona, secretly secured the Pope's consent, and that 
 the indignation which the seizure of that town roused at 
 liome, and the protests of Cardinal Bernetti, had been 
 preconcerted with the French prime minister, and there- 
 fore did not alarm him. There is no reason to suppose 
 that the Roman hierarchs, devoted as they were to cun- 
 ning and deceit, would shrink from such an artifice 
 through any scruples of conscience, or that they would 
 play their role clumsily; but we are skeptical of Pcrier's 
 ability to carry through so delicate a sham without betray- 
 ing himself; for we have seen how quickly all his other 
 designs were penetrated and balked by Metternich. There 
 was indeed a sufficient motive for the Pope's collusion in 
 so subtle a stratagem : ever since the Congress of Vienna, 
 the Roman Curia had suspected that Austria planned to 
 annex the Legations, and if, being now in virtual posses- 
 sion of these provinces, and being emboldened by the 
 timidity of the French the year before, she refused to give 
 them up, what means had the Curia for expelling her? 
 To implicate some other Powers — and France was the 
 most convenient — in the defense of the integrity of the
 
 THE REVOLUTIONS OF 1831. 375 
 
 Roman State, would be a shrewd policy; for even if 
 France and Austria came to blows, the Papacy would 
 have a good chance of keeping her provinces in any set- 
 tlement after a war. This explanation does not lack 
 plausibility, although perhaps it will never be established 
 beyond question. ^ Whatever the wiles adopted, the out- 
 come of them all was that Austria garrisoned the Lega- 
 tions, and France Ancona, until 1838, and that the bur- 
 dens of Pope Gregory's subjects grew heavier as the years 
 dragged on. 
 
 This third revolution marks the close of the first phase 
 of Italy's long struggle for emancipation. The Italians 
 had learned by their failures in 1820 and 1821 that their 
 chief adversary was Austria, and not their local princes. 
 These they had dislodged with but little effort, but Aus- 
 tria, the irresistible factor of the Holy Alliance, had come 
 and replaced them. Evidently the Italians could not 
 reasonably hope for freedom so long as Austria — whom 
 they could not overwhelm by arms, nor persuade by argu- 
 ments, nor soften by entreaties — guarded the Peninsula. 
 "We make the maintenance of public tranquillity in 
 Italy a question of our own existence,"^ said Mctternich, 
 who meant by "tranquillity" a lethargy so deep that it 
 precluded even dreams of })olitical reforms. But through 
 their exibnl brethren, the Italian Liberals liad contacts 
 with th« Liberals of the rest of Europe; they felt that 
 tlieir cause was no longer isolated, but international, and 
 they were electrified when their French confederates, 
 having overturned the Bourbons, set up a monarchy 
 wliose watchword was "non-intervention." With France 
 eager, as they supposed, to enforce that principle, and 
 with Enghmd in sympathy with Fiance, the Italians 
 deemed that they had a (Icar ficM in which to try conchi- 
 sions with their local tyrants, and that Austria would not 
 
 1 PoK-g^i. ii. 17-S; Oualterio, i, 11()-11. 
 
 2 MetUTiiifli, V, 2.")S.
 
 376 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 dare to interfere. The ease with which they captured 
 Parma, Modena, and the Papal States almost to the gates 
 of Rome, proved that they had not underestimated the 
 weakness of their rulers or the impotence of the govern- 
 ments against which they had so long protested. But 
 then came the terrible disillusion: the Orleanist mon- 
 archy deserted them; Austria again fulfilled her abom- 
 inable mission; and the revolution collapsed in the mo- 
 ment of victory. The Italian insurgents thus learned 
 that, as they had no official recognition, so they could not 
 bind a recognized government like that of France by any 
 covenant which it would be ashamed to break. They 
 were international outlaws, who had not the power to 
 hold any lawful ministry to its agreement with them. 
 Disappointed and duped, they could lay to heart that so- 
 ber warning which Washington gave his countrymen in 
 his Farewell Address: "There can be no greater error 
 than to expect or calculate upon real favors from nation 
 to nation." 
 
 But this revolution of 1831 taught the Italians not only 
 how illusory and uncertain was their hope of foreign assist- 
 ance; it taught them also the folly of seeking to make 
 an accomplice of a native prince by flattering his ambi- 
 tion. The Duke of Modena, like Francis of Naples in 
 1820, and Charles Albert of Piedmont in 1821, had failed 
 them : it was time to abandon the expectation that princes 
 bred and nurtured by Autocracy would turn against their 
 dam. You may tame a lion's cub and have him for your 
 pet, but at the first smell of blood he will spring upon 
 you; for instinct may long be checked, but cannot be 
 destroyed. This revolution gave further evidence of the 
 underlying weakness of the entire fabric of Italian con- 
 spiracy. The cause lacked a centre ; it lacked a head ; it 
 still beat about ineffectually for a unifying ideal; it was 
 still entangled in secret mummeries, and distracted by 
 local feuds. These conditions, as I have often stated,
 
 THE REVOLUTIONS OF 1831. 377 
 
 belong to every large conspiracy whose aim is not summed 
 up and personified in one leader to whose authority all 
 defer; but the inherited divisions of the Italians only 
 increased the difficidty of bringing harmony out of ele- 
 ments so discordant. We ought perhaps to be surprised 
 that the plotters in Modena, Parma, and the Legations 
 could so far sink their mutual differences as to exhibit, 
 if but for a moment, a show of concord on the surface, 
 rather than that they failed to make concord permanent. 
 Finally, these events of 1831-2 warned Europe that, 
 after fifteen years of oppression, Italy's desire for free- 
 dom had not been crushed. There was no longer an 
 excuse for attributing her periodic rebellions to the machi- 
 nations of a few evil-minded or visionary men; the ills 
 she suffered were intolerable, — they must be cured be- 
 fore Europe could expect to behold her tranquil. It was 
 not against a temporary or local wrong that she cried 
 out, but against the entire system which liad been thrust 
 upon her. In 1820 Na])les, in 1821 Piedmont, and now 
 Emilia and the Papal States, had risen; Lombardy and 
 Venetia would have been the first to revolt had not their 
 conquerors been too strong for even desperation to assail ; 
 only Tuscany seemed comparatively submissive, but slie, 
 too, though she uttered no complaint, knew that her })ea('e 
 was not freedom. Ilencefortli, no one could say that tlie 
 Italians in every part of their country had not ])ut on 
 record by protest of word or liand their irreconcilable 
 hatred of the Ixuidage to whicli Hurop(> liad condenuied 
 them. Nevertlieless, their protests, thougli tacitly ad- 
 mitted to be just, were disregarded, and the Eui'0])ean 
 Powers tliought tliat they ha<l rid theuiselves of tlie irri- 
 tating Italian (piestion by aiding the Italian despots to 
 stuff again into Italy's mouth the gag she had wrenched 
 away. Nervous mouarchs and ministers would at least 
 secure themselves ag:iiiist noise. The iuunediale gainer 
 by the insurrection and intrigue was, as usual, Austria.
 
 378 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 The Papal government, which, under Pius VII and Leo 
 XII, had struggled to keep her at bay, now, under Greg- 
 ory XVI, implored her aid. So Metternicli, by patiently 
 waiting, was acknowledged to be indispensable to the 
 temporal existence of the Papacy, as he had formerly 
 shown that his protection was indispensable to Ferdinand 
 at Naples, and to Charles Felix at Turin. And he had 
 succeeded, without striking a blow, in humiliating the 
 only Continental Cabinet which, since Waterloo, had 
 dared to oppose his autocratic policy in Italy. He had 
 made the Orleanist monarchy ridiculous, and tossed its 
 "principle of non-intervention" into the rubbish heap of 
 Time.
 
 BOOK THIRD. 
 
 WHILE GREGORY XVI PONTIFICATES. 
 
 Di' ogg^mai che la Chiesa di Roma, 
 Per confondere in s6 due regginienti, 
 Cade nel fango, e s6 brutta e la soma. 
 
 Dante, Purgatorio, xvi, 127-9. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CONSPIRACY GETS ITS LEADER. 
 
 The Revolution of 1830, ineffectual as it seemed to its 
 promoters, was yet most signiticant. It failed in Italy 
 and Poland, in Spain and Portugal; it created a mon- 
 g'rel monarchy, neither Absolute nor Constitutional, in 
 France ; only in Belj^ium did it attain its immediate pur- 
 pose. Nevertheless, if we look beneath the surface, we 
 see that it was one of those epoch-marking events of 
 which we can say, "Things cannot be again what until 
 just now they were." Constitutionalism, the ideal of 
 1789, which Napoleon abandoned for his selfish ambition, 
 and which the Congress of Vienna thouglit to strangle, 
 had risen up, not yet triumi)hant, but so hardy as to warn 
 the Autocrats that they could not (U'stroy it; and they 
 tolerated it in France, rather than risk a decisive encoun- 
 ter with the demons of Republicanism and Anarchy which 
 they saw behind it. The fluly monarcliy was thus a com- 
 ])romise between the Absolutists and the Kepublicans; 
 the former angry at liaving been forced to concede any- 
 thing, the latter angry at not liaving gained moi'c. Louis 
 Philippe, with a dynasty to nurture, bch)ngcd at heart
 
 380 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 with the Autocrats, but haviug also his own crown to pre- 
 serve, he coquetted with the Liberals. He adopted the 
 policy of the ''just milieu,'' or golden mean, — "that doc- 
 trine," said Metternich, "which always couples a vast 
 amount of thoughtlessness with a grain of reason;" and 
 for nearly eighteen years he subjected France to a reign 
 of makeshifts and disingenuousness which typified the 
 confusion and the ebb-and-flow of the opposing forces in 
 Europe during that period. Pie was shrewd enough to 
 conceal his inmost preferences ; he assumed the dress and 
 manners of a democratic age, letting himself pass for a 
 Citizen King and sjjaring no pains to ingratiate himself 
 with the bourgeoisie. The aristocracy of the Old Regime 
 was based on Blood; Napoleon made Talent the corner- 
 stone of his aristocracy; since 1815 Money has been 
 often substituted for Blood or Brains in repairing the 
 crumbling Chinese Wall of European Aristocracy. And 
 this is not strange ; because Commercialism has been the 
 dominant trait of our century, and it is as natural that 
 the great social })rize in a commercial age should fall to 
 millionaires, as that, in a military age, they should fall 
 to soldiers, or in a thcologic age to churchmen. In pat- 
 ronizing his merchants and bankers, Louis Philippe 
 merely acknowledged the power behind every modern 
 throne, — the power which makes and unmakes Cabinets 
 and gives or withholds the siibsidies of war. The modern 
 Temple of Janus is the Exchange. 
 
 Based on contradictions which were manifesting them- 
 selves everywhere, but which were most apparent in 
 France, Louis Philippe's government existed in a con- 
 stant state of unstable equilibrium : like a tilting boulder 
 which a child can cause to vibrate, but which the moun- 
 taineers refrain from disturbing, lest it roll down the 
 slope and crash into their village below. 
 
 In Italy, however, after the suppression of the disor- 
 derly Legations, the local tyrants and Austria redoubled
 
 CONSPIRACY GETS ITS LEADER. 381 
 
 their efforts to foresee and prevent all change. Round 
 the Peninsula they drew a line of quarantine across 
 which the dangerous ideas of progress and reform might 
 not pass ; they strove to disinfect every thought that came 
 from abroad; they were swift to isolate every subject in 
 whom they detected symptoms of political disease. None 
 knew better than themselves, however, their inability to 
 cure the predisposition to contagion ; still, they were un- 
 prepared to see the epidemic take a new and more threat- 
 ening form. 
 
 The late risings in the Duchies and Legations had 
 brought no comfort to the conspirators, but had taught 
 them, on the contrary, how ineffectual, how hopeless was 
 the method of the secret societies. After more than fif- 
 teen years they had not gained an inch; they had only 
 learned that their rulers would concede nothing, and that 
 Austria, their great adversary, had staked her existence 
 on maintaining thraldom in Italy. Innumerable small 
 outbursts and three revolutions had ended in the death 
 of hundreds and in the imprisonment or proscription of 
 thousands of victims. The company of old leaders had 
 been diminished after each failure, until now but few 
 remained, and these were silent through discouragement 
 or prudence. Above all, the inherent weakness of tlie 
 sects had been proved l)y their inability to coiiperate, by 
 their lack of one central aim, by their hesitation, and by 
 tlu'ir mutual distrust. Sectional rivalry, the ancestial 
 bane of Italy, had been in part allayed, but sectarian 
 rivalry had too often re])liiced it. In this last revolution 
 we saw, for instance, how the Komagnoles had refused to 
 act in concert with Menotti, and we might have seen, had 
 we examined in detail the ('()lla])se of that revolution, how 
 those same Komagnolcs treated Zueelii and his six hun- 
 dred fugitives from Modeua as foreigners and not as al- 
 lies. Nor could the fact l»e blinked, that the conspiiaey 
 had failed to take root among the masses. Its promoters
 
 382 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 were soldiers and middle-class men, and a small body of 
 the most intelligent nobles, — doubtless the best element 
 then at hand, but too full of the doctrines of the Napole- 
 onic period, and too much given to theory and reminis- 
 cence. Where the lower classes had joined the sects, as 
 at Naples, they cast over all the Liberal undertakings 
 the suspicion that violence and plunder, rather than a 
 high principle, were their objects. That the revolution- 
 ists had so easily won their first skirmish in Naples, Pied- 
 mont, and Central Italy was due less to their own strength 
 than to their enemy's weakness; but where had they 
 shown the harmony and the wisdom necessary for build- 
 ing a better government and a strong, on the ruins of 
 those they had cast down? Did not the brief respite be- 
 tween success and disaster suffice in every case to prove 
 that their inexperience, if not their dissensions, would 
 have prevented them, even without the inexorable veto 
 of Austria ? The forces of Liberalism lay over Italy, like 
 the waters of a freshet in the hollows of a meadow, and 
 they were growing stagnant because there was no channel 
 in which they could be united and drawn off. 
 
 Just when conspiracy, through repeated failures, was 
 thus discredited, there arose a leader so strong and un- 
 selfish, so magnetic and patient and zealous, that by him, 
 if by any one, conspiracy might be guided to victory. 
 This leader, the Great Conspirator, was Joseph Mazzini, 
 one of the half dozen supreme influences in European 
 politics during the nineteenth century, whose career wiU 
 interest posterity as long as it is concerned at all in our 
 epoch of transition. For just as Metternich was the High- 
 Priest of the Old Eegime, so Mazzini was the Prophet of 
 a Social Order more just, more free, more spiritual than 
 any the world has known. He was an Idealist w4io would 
 hold no parley with temporizers, an enthusiast wliom half- 
 concessions could not beguile : and so he came to be de- 
 cried as a fanatic or a visionary. This is the fate of
 
 CONSPIRACY GETS ITS LEADER. 383 
 
 those idealists who would act as well as preach. Your 
 Kant, or Emerson, or Darwin may publish, as from a 
 serene height, the laws of philosophy, morals, and science, 
 and withhold themselves from the vexations of debate, in 
 which the personality of the thinker may long distract 
 attention from his thoughts. But the social reformer 
 cannot divorce thought from action. The abuses which 
 block the way of the truth he would see prevail must be 
 attacked forthwith ; it will not suffice merely to utter his 
 message and leave it to time ; society is deaf, and he must 
 reiterate his doctrines ; society is dull, conservative, timid, 
 he must beat upon it, rouse it, fill it with unrest and 
 shame, till it will no longer endure to uphold the bad, 
 when good and better beckon it. Undoubtedly, physi- 
 cians a century hence will have discovered remedies for 
 many ills that now seem incurable, but this does not ex- 
 oni3rate a physician to-day from trying to relieve the 
 patients who appeal to him. And so the reformer can 
 hope to bring to pass his Utopia only l)y removing pres- 
 ent evils. His ideal is vast, his deeds can be only partial 
 and restricted; and the world, comparing his promise 
 with his performance, will pity or sneer. In judging 
 Mazzini we must discriminate between what he aspired 
 to do and what he actually accomplished ; his acts are re- 
 corded, and they can be estimated ; l)ut a ctMitury or two 
 may still be rcqiiired to decide whether liis ideal was a 
 mere dream, or a true pro])hecy of the nobler order to 
 which the world shall attain. "What he ])roi)oscd was 
 clearly unrealizable at tin; time when lu^ pr()])<)sed it; but 
 the ((ucstion for tlic future to answer is, Wlicn Society 
 shall liave advanced far l)eyon(l its ])resent conditicm, will 
 it adopt the Mazzinian ))att('rn? In so far as we sliall 
 have to deal witli Mazzini in the ])eri()d we are consider- 
 ing, we shall nsually see m him the man of action, figlit- 
 ing for a definite and innnediate end: it is all tlie more 
 necessary, therefore, to remember that behind the man of
 
 384 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 action was always the idealist to whom the fact achieved 
 seemed mean in comparison with the splendor of his aspi- 
 ration. 
 
 Mazzini was born in Genoa in 1808. His father was 
 a lawyer of repute, his mother a woman of tenderness and 
 intelligence. Iler influence over their son was deep and 
 lasting, for he was so frail a boy that he had to be kept 
 at home, where his physical weakness conduced to a 
 rapid and precocious intellectual growth. He read and 
 thought beyond his years, and he had an almost feminine 
 organization of nerves and emotions. One day, in his 
 twelfth year, when he and his mother were walking, — it 
 was just after the collapse of the Revolution of 1821, — 
 "a tall black-bearded man, with a severe and energetic 
 countenance," approached and held out a white handker- 
 chief towards them, merely saying, "For the refugees of 
 Italy." That request burned into the boj^'s soul. "That 
 day," he wrote long afterward, "was the first in which a 
 confused idea presented itself to my mind, — I will not 
 say of country or liberty, but an idea that we Italians 
 could and therefore ought to struggle for the libei'ty of 
 our country." ^ Wherever he went, the lad saw the faces 
 of the refugees, he heard that plea, and the thought that 
 he, too, must bear his part in his country's redemption 
 never forsook him. His health improved, and in due 
 time he was matriculated into the university, to fit him- 
 self for his father's profession. At the outset, he says, 
 " in the midst of the noisy tumultuous life of the students 
 around me, I was sombre and absorbed, and appeared 
 like one suddenly grown old. I childishly determined to 
 dress always in black, fancying myself in mourning for 
 my country. "2 But soon he foimd among his comrades 
 friends, few but devoted ; they discussed together the lar- 
 gest questions, after the manner of generous and hopeful 
 
 1 Mazzini : Lif( and Writhigs (London, 1890). i, 2. 
 - Ibid, 4.
 
 CONSPIRACY GETS ITS LEADER. 385 
 
 collegians; they formed little groups, to smuggle in and 
 circulate prohibited books ; they wrote essays, and longed 
 for a periodical that would publish them. Already, we 
 see, Mazzini gave only a perfunctory attention to the law ; 
 he neglected his lessons to read Dante, and he felt within 
 him the desire and the ability to win renown in literature. 
 Those were the days of the war between the Classicists 
 and the Romanticists, and that Mazzini and his young, 
 enthusiastic companions were all Romanticists needs 
 hardly to be said ; but I nuist quote his own words in 
 order to show that he, at least, though but eighteen years 
 old, saw how much was involved in what seemed to many 
 but a literary squabble. 
 
 "The first school," he says, "composed of Roman Ar- 
 cadians and Delia Crusca academicians, ]>rofessors, and 
 pedants, persisted in producing cold, laborious imitations, 
 without life, spirit, or j)urpose ; the second, founding their 
 new literature on no other basis than their individual 
 fancy, lost themselves in fantastic medijeval legends, un- 
 felt hymns to the Virgin, and unreal metrical despair, or 
 any other whim of the passing hour, which might ])re- 
 sent itself to their minds; intolerant of every tyranny, 
 but ignorant also of the sacredness of the law whicli gov- 
 erns art as well as every other thing. And it is a part 
 of this law, that all true art must either sum up and ex- 
 press the life of a closing epoch, or announce and proclaim 
 the life of the epoch destined to succcchI it. True art is 
 not the caprice of this or that individual ; it is a solemn 
 page either of history or prophecy; and when — as always 
 in'Dantc, and occasicmally in Byron — it coinbini^s and 
 harmonizes this double mission, it reaches the highest 
 summit of ])ower. Now, amongst us Italians, no other 
 than the j)rophetic form of art was ]>ossil)l(>. For three 
 centuries we had been deprived of all spontaneous indi- 
 vidual life, and our (existence had been tliat of forgetful 
 slaves, deriving all things from the foreigner. Art,
 
 386 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 therefore, could only arise again amongst us to inscribe a 
 maledictory epitaph upon those three centuries, and sing 
 the canticle of the future. 
 
 "But to do tliis, it was necessary to interrogate the 
 slumbering, latent, and unconscious life of our people ; to 
 lay the hand upon the half -frozen heart of the nation ; to 
 count its rare pulsations, and reverently learn therefrom 
 the purpose and duty of Italian genius. The special bias 
 and tendency of individual inspiration required to be 
 nourished by the aspiration of the collective life of Italy ; 
 even as flowers, the poetry of the earth, derive their sep- 
 arate variety of tint and beauty from a soil which is com- 
 mon to all. But the collective life of Italy was uncertain 
 and indefinite; it lacked a centre, oneness of ideal, and 
 all regular and organized mode of manifestation. Art, 
 therefore, could reveal itself among us by fits, in isolated 
 and volcanic outbursts. It was incapable of revealing 
 itself in regular and progressive development, similar to 
 the gradual evolution of vegetable life in the New World, 
 wherein the separate trees continue to mingle their 
 branches, until they form the gigantic unity of the forest. 
 Without a country and without liberty, we might, per- 
 haps, produce some prophets of art, but no vital art. 
 Therefore it was better for us to consecrate our lives to 
 the solution of the problem, — Ai^e tve to have a country f 
 and turn at once to the political question. If we were 
 successful, the art of Italy would bloom and flourish over 
 our graves. . . . The ideas awakened in April, 1821, 
 were still burning within me, and determined my renun- 
 ciation of the career of literatvire for the more direct path 
 of political action. And this was my first great sacrifice. 
 A thousand visions of historical dramas and romances 
 floated before my mental eye, — artistic images that ca- 
 ressed my spirit, as visions of gentle maidens soothe the 
 soul of the lonely -hearted. The natural bias of my mind 
 was very different from that which has been forced upon
 
 CONSPIRACY GETS ITS LEADER. 887 
 
 me by the times in which I have lived, and the shame of 
 our degradation." ^ 
 
 What is there in life comparable to the devotion of a 
 young soul to whom the Spirit has intrusted a mission 
 which shall be dearer to him than ease or fame, than 
 friends' or parents' or woman's love? That command 
 draws him with the majesty and beauty of truth; from 
 beyond space and time, from Eternity, it shines upon 
 him, always new, yet as old, as unchangeable as Eternity 
 itself; it sanctifies him as the champion, not of a personal 
 design, but of a great cause; and it endues him, being 
 young, with unquestioning faith and the bloom and buoy- 
 ancy of hope. Mazzini, having thus early beheld the 
 message written in radiance upon his soul, renounced all 
 to obey that. lie now wrote articles which, although 
 ostensibly only criticisms of books, were more and more 
 impregnated by his political ideal. They brought him 
 the acquaintance of patriots who, like himself, cherished 
 the hope of making literature the vehicle of their polit- 
 • ical education ; and then the journals in which they were 
 published were suppressed by the too wary government. 
 Mazzini joined the Carbonari, not without suspecting 
 that, under their complex symbolism and hierarchical 
 mysteries they concealed a fatal lack of harmony, decision, 
 and faith; but, he says, they "were men who, defying 
 alike excommunication and capital punishment, had the 
 persistent energy ever to persevere and to weave a fresh 
 web each time the old one was broken. And this was 
 enough to induee me to join my name and labor to 
 theirs."^ After his initiation, wliich was sinipler than 
 usual, a fricuid congratulated him on his having been 
 spared the usual terrific ordeal. Mazzini smiled, where- 
 upon tlie friend asked him wliat lie would have done had 
 he been recjuired, as others liad been, to fire otli in liis 
 own ear a pistol which had jtrevioiisly Keen loaded before 
 
 ' Miuiiiii. i. t)-l». - Ibiii, 14.
 
 388 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 his eyes. "I replied that I should have refused," Maz- 
 zini answered, " telling the initiators that either there was 
 some valve in the interior of the pistol into which the bul- 
 let fell, — in which case the affair was a farce unworthy 
 of both oi us, — or the bullet had really remained in the 
 stock; and in that case it struck me as somewhat absurd 
 to call upon a man to fight for his country, and make it 
 his first duty to blow out the few brains God had vouch- 
 safed to him."i As he became better acquainted with 
 Carbonarism, his conviction grew stronger that no perma- 
 nent good could be achieved by it. 
 
 The approach of the revolution in France now redoubled 
 the activity of the Piedmontese conspirators. Mazzini 
 went on a secret mission to Tuscany, and shortly after 
 his return to Genoa he was betrayed by a treacherous 
 informer to the police. "Your son has a bad habit of 
 thinking too much, and of taking solitary walks at night," 
 was the remark made by the police to Mazzini 's father, 
 when he asked why the young man had been arrested. 
 For many months he was confined in an upper cell of the * 
 fortress of Savona, from the little grated window of which 
 he could look out upon only "the sea and the sky, — two 
 symbols of the infinite and, except the Alps, the sublimest 
 things in nature." That imprisonment at Savona was to 
 Mazzini what the year's concealment in the Wartburg had 
 been to Luther, — a period for self-examination whereby 
 he classified the motives which had hitherto led him, and 
 deduced from them the creed which he was to profess 
 through life. The seeds of all the principles, which dur- 
 ing more than forty years he preached and reiterated in 
 many forms, had all taken root by his twenty-second 
 year, when the door of his fortress-prison closed behind 
 him. 
 
 Mazzini' s political and social doctrines had their source 
 in morals. Throughout and above all worlds he acknow- 
 
 1 Mazzini, i. 10.
 
 CONSPIRACY GETS ITS LEADER. 389 
 
 ledged one Supreme Unity, — God. Catholicism, he de- 
 clared, was dead; it could no longer satisfy either the 
 devout heart or the reasoning mind. "1 felt that au- 
 thority, true, righteous, and holy authority, — the search 
 after which, whether conscious or not, is the fact of our 
 human life, and which is only irrationally denied by those 
 who confound it with its false semblance or shadow, and 
 imagine they have abolished God himself, when they have 
 but abolished an idol, — I felt that authority had van- 
 ished and become extinct in Europe, and that for the 
 reason no power of initiative existed in any of the peo- 
 ples of Europe."^ To correspond to the divine Unity, 
 he argued, there must be unity among mankind : the hu- 
 man race, distributed among so many peoples, various in 
 hue and intelligence and faith, is yet interpenetrated and 
 inclosed by a common humanity; those differences of 
 feature and belief are only external, as of vessels, large 
 or small, crooked or upright, on which diverse forms have 
 been modeled or patterns painted, but all containing, in 
 greater or smaller quantities, the same holy water, the 
 same divine essence. Scanning history, ]Mazzini dis- 
 cerned that the Past had sufficed to evoke tlie individual 
 from the brute shapeless mass; here and there, in differ- 
 ent lands and ages, a few great men had risen to be the 
 wonder and example of their fellows; but the ])urj)ose 
 of creation is not attained in tlie devel()])inent ot' a few 
 sui)reme men, who live isoLited fi-oin, and often at tlie 
 expense of, the niultitudi'. They are really but the first 
 to emerge from eliaos: all must follow them till chaos is 
 blotted out. It is tlie sum of all tlie individuals, anil not 
 the vabu! of a ])artieular unit, to enhance which ])rogress 
 strains. Each tribe, each nation, is a larger individual, 
 and just as any man singly must have freedom to exercise 
 the ])owers which belong t^) him alone, so must a nation 
 be free. But true freedom does not consist in sellish 
 
 ' Mazziiii, i, lit!.
 
 390 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 license to act regardless of the profit and needs of oth- 
 ers, but in cooperation with others, deriving strength 
 from them, and repaying it, from the store peculiar to 
 each. 
 
 " All are needed by each one ,: 
 Nothing is good or fair alone." 
 
 The French Revolution proclaimed the Rights of Man ; 
 it warned a world in which a little group of sovereigns, 
 nobles, and priests were masters, and all the others were 
 slaves, that every man, however humble, has an indefea- 
 sible right to his own person and life. In brief, the 
 French Revolution was the assertion of Individualism, 
 which hereditary despots and privileged aristocrats had 
 for centuries ignored or striven to repress. But Individ- 
 ualism is only a corner-stone on which true civilization — 
 a society at once just and enlightened — is to be raised : 
 above the Rights of Man are the Duties of Man, which 
 bind the individual to the community, and teach him that 
 his private welfare depends upon the general welfare, and 
 that he best serves himself who serves his fellows best. 
 Thus we. rise from the plane of mere legality, which is 
 selfish and only zealous for its own, to the sphere of mor- 
 als, where the individual renounces his partial good for 
 the sake of that general and inclusive good, wherein, if 
 he but look deep enough, he shall see his own real pros- 
 perity. But this is as true for nations as for each several 
 citizen; since a nation is only a larger family, and in the 
 same way that all the families of a city make up that city, 
 so all the nations of the earth make up the human race. 
 Hitherto, there has been enmity among them ; many have 
 not yet reached the level of legality; none has adopted 
 morality to be the guide of all its dealings with its neigh- 
 bors ; nevertheless, the solidarity of the race cannot be 
 denied, though as yet we recognize it chiefly by negative 
 signs. We perceive that when one nation injures another, 
 whether by war or by commercial selfishness, all are in-
 
 CONSPIRACY GETS ITS LEADEK. 391 
 
 jured; the gain that comes from unjust victory is illusive, 
 — the robber has his gold, but at the expense of integ- 
 rity; the robbed is deprived of his purse but not of his 
 character. Servitude debases both master and slave. 
 But this very reaction and interrelation of harm proves 
 the underlying unity of mankind; did it not exist, the 
 wrongs done in one hemisphere would not affect the in- 
 habitants in the other; and since this reciprocity inheres 
 in international evils, it must inhere in international 
 benefits; unselfishness between one nation and another 
 must ennoble both. To replace enmity by friendship, 
 greed by generosity, mutual suspicion by trustfulness, and 
 the desire to injure by the desire to help ; to feel common 
 obligations and the joy of a common service ; to be suf- 
 fused and quickened by the spirit which flows through all 
 mankind, rather than to stand apart and rely uj)on tlie 
 fitf id currents of selfishness, — these should be the ideals, 
 these are the conditions of health and progress, of the 
 race not less than of tlie individual. And when Collec- 
 tive Humanity sliall have reached tliis altitude, then, and 
 not till then, can it fulfil its mission, and rise to achieve- 
 ments which now transcend the visions of the enthusiast 
 and the poet's dream. 
 
 Little did the jailer of Savona suspect that the young 
 prisoner, wliom he locked in that upper cell between sky 
 and sea, was entertaining in liis solitude by day and night 
 such companions as these th<jughts : yet it was even so. 
 Mazzini, however, coxdd not rest in abstractions; he coidd 
 not })e satisfied merely to fondle in imagination that en- 
 clianting j)r()spect, or to give liis creed lii)-service only. 
 He felt tli(! zealot's need of doing, and as lie had the gift 
 j)ecidiar to the Italians of conceiving vastlv and express- 
 ing vividly, he set him to ap])ly his ]»hilosophv to the im- 
 mediatt! needs of his countiy. "■ ^^'e coiihl^ and therefore 
 we oiKjht /o, struggh',"" was the conviction he could not 
 shake off. liut how struggle? and for what? For inde-
 
 392 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 pendence, for liberty, and for unity. Italy could not 
 take her place among the nations until she was indepen- 
 dent of her foreign masters ; but even though she expelled 
 these, she might still be under the dominion of native 
 autocrats, — therefore she must be free as well as inde- 
 pendent; still, liberty would fail to shed its full blessing 
 upon her, unless she were united, — therefore a federa- 
 tion of free Italian States would not suffice ; there must 
 be a complete union of all the Italians, before the nation 
 could enjoy a life at once national and individual. So 
 Mazzini adopted Republican and Unitarian princi2)les as 
 the bases of his system. He would have no compromise 
 with monarchy ; the tendency of the modern world being, 
 he perceived, towards republicanism. Even were a mon- 
 archy, in spite of local jealousy and foreign interference, 
 established in Italy, it could be only temporary ; in a little 
 while a second revolution would be necessary to create the 
 inevitable republic. He would not deal with paltering 
 diplomacy, that servile instrument which kings used to 
 hide their weakness and delay their fall. Only a repub- 
 lic could unite all popular sentiments ; federalism would 
 subject Italy, as Switzerland was subjected, to foreig-n 
 influence, revive petty feuds, "divide the great national 
 arena into a number of smaller arenas, and by thus open- 
 ing a path for every paltry ambition, become a source of 
 aristocracy." 
 
 Having thus clearly defined his aim, Mazzini proceeded 
 to consider the method best fitted for attaining it. The 
 open propaganda of his Republican and Unitarian doc- 
 trines was of course impossible ; it must be carried on by 
 a secret organization. But he was disgusted with the 
 existing secret societies : they lacked harmony, they lacked 
 faith, they had no distinct purpose : their Masonic mum- 
 meries were childish and farcical ; their irresponsible gov- 
 ernment had led to disunion and defeat ; they had been 
 now too rash and now too dilatory; they had been nurse-
 
 CONSPIRACY GETS ITS LEADER. 393 
 
 ries for the criminal, the selfish, and the vindictive, in- 
 stead of for the patriotic alone ; they had, at most, been 
 able to agitate, but not to act. Therefore, Mazzini would 
 have none of them ; he would organize a new secret soci- 
 ety, and call it Koung Italy, whose principles should be 
 plainly understood by every one of its members. 
 
 It was to be composed of men under forty, in order to 
 secure the most energetic and disinterested members, and 
 to avoid the influence of older men, who, trained by the 
 past generation, were not in touch with the aspirations 
 and needs of the new. It was to awaken the Peojjle, the 
 bone and sinew of the nation ; whereas the earlier sects 
 had relied too much on the upper and middle classes, 
 whose traditions and interests were either too aristocratic 
 or too commercial. Roman Catholicism had ceased to be 
 spiritual ; it no longer purified and uplifted the hearts of 
 the Italians; the educated, if they submitted to it, did so 
 from custom, and not from faith ; the ignorant accepted 
 it blindly, and their superstitious worship debased their 
 character. But without a religion which should be real 
 and elevating, which should regenerate their morals and 
 ins})ire in them a deep and im])erative sense of duty, the 
 Italians ciould not be led to a })ermanent political regen- 
 eration. Young Italy aimed, therefore, to substitute for 
 the mediaeval dogmas and patent idolatries of Home a 
 religion based on Reason, and so simple as to be within 
 the comprehension of the hunibli'st })easant. One (jod 
 above, and below mankind througli which lie embodies 
 the Infinite Nature in the Finite: all men Ills creatures 
 and His children, — therefore, all brothers, in each of 
 whom there is some sj)ark of His divine essence: (iod to 
 be worshiped freely and dii'cctly, witliout the interposi- 
 tion of saints, and empty rituals, and arrogant })riests, — 
 to be worshiped, moreover, in men's deeds and not in 
 mere words, and to be worshiped best bv building up 
 a noble, reverent, and nnsellisli eharactei-, wliicli. ever
 
 394 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 expanding, shall afford a dwelling vaster and yet more 
 vast for Love and Virtue, By such simple yet universal 
 tenets, affirmed rather than argued, Mazzini hoped to 
 arouse in his countrymen ■ that religious sense which ap- 
 prehends duty, and is at once the seat of a rational faith 
 and the source of worthy deeds. 
 
 Recognizing in this fashion the elemental need of mor- 
 als, and providing for disseminating a knowledge of them, 
 Mazzini elaborated the political creed of Young Italy. 
 Education and insurrection were the two means to be em- 
 ployed. "Education," he said, "must ever be directed to 
 teach by example, word, and pen the necessity of insur- 
 rection. Insurrection, whenever it can be realized, nuist 
 be so conducted as to render it a means of national edu- 
 cation. . . . Convinced that Italy is strong enough to free 
 herself without external help ; that, in order to found a 
 nationality, it is necessary that the feeling and conscious- 
 ness of a nationality should exist ; and that it can never 
 be created by any revolution, however triumphant, if 
 achieved by foreign arms; convinced, moreover, that 
 every insurrection that looks abroad for assistance must 
 remain dependent upon the state of things abroad, and 
 can therefore never be certain of victory, — - Young Italy 
 is determined that while it will ever be ready to profit by 
 the favorable course of events abroad, it will neither allow 
 the character of the insurrection nor the choice of the 
 movement to be governed by them." ^ Insurrection must 
 lead to revolution, upon the successful termination of 
 which "every authority will bow down before the National 
 Council, the sole source of authority in the State." The 
 true method of warfare for all nations desirous of eman- 
 cipating themselves from a foreign yoke is by guerrilla 
 bands, which supply the want of a regular army, call 
 the greatest number of elements into the field, and yet 
 may be sustained by the smallest number. This metliod 
 
 ^ Mazzini, i, 10()-S.
 
 CONSPIRACY GETS ITS LEADER. 395 
 
 "forms the military education of the people and conse- 
 crates every foot of the native soil by the memory of some 
 warlike deed ; " it "opens a field of activity for every local 
 capacity, forces the enemy into an unaccustomed method 
 of battle ; avoids the evil consequences of a general de- 
 feat; secures the national war from the risk of treason, 
 and has the advantage of not confining it within any 
 defined and determinate basis of operations. . . . The 
 national army, recruited with all possible solicitude, and 
 organized with all possible care, will complete the work 
 begun by the war of organization."^ Every member of 
 Young Italy, therefore, was bidden to provide himself 
 with a gun and a dagger ; the colors of the society were 
 white, red, and green; the banner bore on one side the 
 words, "Liberty, Equality, Humanity," on the other, 
 "Unity, Independence." "God and People" was the 
 watchword which summed up the Mazzinian system. 
 
 There were two degrees in the society, the "affiliators " 
 and the "affiliated," and in order to prevent widespread 
 treachery it was divided into groups of ten, only one 
 member of each ten being cognizant of the members of the 
 next group. The novice, duly informed of the purposes 
 of Yomig Italy, took his oath "in the name of (xod and 
 of Italy; in the name of all the martyrs of tlio holy Ital- 
 ian cause who have fallen beneath foreign and domestic 
 tyranny; by the duties which bind me to the land wherein 
 God has placed me, and to the brotlicrs wliom God has 
 given me; by tlie love — innate in all men — 1 ])ear to 
 the country that gave my mother birth, and will be the 
 home of my children: by the liatred — innate in all men 
 — I bear to evil, injustice, usur])ati(>n, and arl)itrary 
 rule; by the blusli tliat rises to my brow when I stand 
 before the citizens of other lands, to know tliat 1 have no 
 rights of citizenship, no country, and no national flag; 
 by the aspiration that thiills my soul towai'ds that liberty 
 
 ' M:i/./.iiii, i, !(•'.).
 
 396 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 for which it was created, and is impotent to exert, — 
 towards the good it was created to strive after, and is 
 impotent to achieve in the silence and isolation of slavery ; 
 by the memory of our former greatness, and the sense of 
 our present degradation ; by the tears of Italian mothers 
 for their sons dead on the scaffold, in prison, or in exile ; 
 by the suffering of the millions." ^ On these solemn facts 
 the novice vowed to further the objects of the Society, to 
 keep its secrets, and to obey his superiors. 
 
 With the idea of Young Italy in his head, and the de- 
 sire of immediate action in his heart, Mazzini was released 
 from the prison of Savona, no sufficient evidence having 
 been procured to warrant his longer detention. But the 
 Piedmontese government, dimly aware that he was a 
 young man of dangerous tendencies, insisted that he should 
 either consent to live under police surveillance in some 
 small Piedmontese town, or should go into exile. lie 
 chose the latter, and withdrew to Marseilles. On the ac- 
 cession of Charles Albert, he addressed to the young king 
 a letter in which he stated the needs of Italy, and having 
 exhorted Charles Albert to recognize and satisfy them, he 
 closed with these words : " Rest assured that posterity will 
 either hail your name as tliat of the greatest of men, or 
 the last of Italian tyrants. Take your choice." The ap- 
 peal, published anonymously, was clandestinely scattered 
 through Piedmont, and coming to the notice of the King 
 and his ministers, called forth an order to have its author 
 arrested should he be found in Charles Albert's domains. 
 During that same spring, 1831, Mazzini went to Corsica 
 to take part in the proposed descent on Tuscany; l)iit 
 when that expedition coUajJsed, and Austrian intervention 
 had crushed the revolution in the Papal States, he re- 
 turned to Marseilles and set vigorously to work to organ- 
 ize the society of Young Italy. Fellow-exiles aided him 
 in printing manifestoes and a newspaper, which were then 
 
 1 Mazzini, i, 110.
 
 CONSPIRACY GETS ITS LEADER. 397 
 
 smuggled in barrels of pitch or pumice-stone into Italy, 
 and tliere circulated by trusty coadjutors. In Genoa, the 
 Ruffini brothers, — the dearest comrades of Mazzini's 
 youth, — together with Campanella, Benza, and a few 
 other friends, undertook the work of propagandism : 
 Leghorn was the Tuscan centre, with Guerrazzi, Bini, and 
 Henry Mayer at its head, and there were other commit- 
 tees in Bologna and Home and Naples. 
 
 The doctrines of the new sect spread, but since secret 
 societies give the census-taker no account of their mem- 
 bership, we cannot cite figures to illustrate the growth 
 of Young Italy. Contrary to Mazzini's expectations, it 
 was recruited, not so much from the People, as from the 
 Middle Class, the professional men, and the tradesmen; 
 and as might be expected, it was the political rather than 
 the religious ideas of the sect that drew adherents to it. 
 The Carbonari and their kindred conspirators were dis- 
 credited by the failure of the last revolution : it began to 
 be felt that their methods were wrong, and their promot- 
 ers superannuated ; so the more zealous gladly turned to 
 the new society, whose aims were distinct and whose mem- 
 bers were young and enthusiastic. But the very delinite- 
 ness of Mazzini's propositions helped to make clear the 
 lines of separation, liitherto blurred, between tlie Lib- 
 eral parties. Young Italy insisted on a republic witlmut 
 compromise; but there were many Liberals wlio, wliile 
 desiring the independence and freedom of tlieir country, 
 were still favorable to a monarchical government or to a 
 federation, and these i-efused to associate themselves with 
 the Republicans. They came to be known as MothM-- 
 ates, and to l)e despiscMl by the Mazziuians, who regarded 
 them as waverers and tein])()rizers. 
 
 The Piedmontese government soon ])erceived that a 
 fresh cons])iracy was gatliering, and having traced it to 
 Marseilles and to Ma/./ini. it riMpiested the Frencli gov- 
 ernment to expel liim from France. This Louis Piiilippe
 
 398 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 consented to do. Mazzini was warned that he should be 
 escorted to the frontier. But on the day appointed, the 
 soldiers marched off with one of his friends who resem- 
 bled him, while he remained unharmed, to continue for 
 more than a year his editorial work at Marseilles. He 
 and his colleagues, unable longer to resist the desire to 
 test their principle by action, planned an invasion of Sa- 
 voy, which they had to abandon, and then they concerted 
 with their Piedmontese friends a general insurrection, 
 which, breaking out simvdtaneously in many parts of the 
 Kingdom of Piedmont, should sweep on through North- 
 ern and Central Italy. Unfortunately, before the plot 
 was mature, two soldiers fell into a quarrel at Genoa, and, 
 when arrested, one of them exclaimed angrily, that if he 
 would he could tell something that would make his enemy 
 suffer. The police were roused by this hint, and erelong 
 they had a clue to the proposed outbreak. Many arrests 
 followed, and the government issued a proclamation, 
 stating that it had discovered the secret of the wicked 
 men who aimed at destroying "the altar and the throne." 
 The conspirators, according to this manifesto, w^ere 
 neither "Catholics, nor Protestants, nor Christians, nor 
 Jews, nor Mussulmans, nor Brahmins," but new Catilines 
 who would adopt the most hideous means — fire, dagger, 
 poison — to accomplish their designs, and who intended 
 to blow up the magazines of all the principal cities.^ 
 We suspect that the reactionaries and Jesuits who sur- 
 rounded Charles Albert exaggerated the danger in order 
 to get his consent to the terrible punishment they pro- 
 posed; indeed, one of them is said to have remarked, 
 "We must give his Majesty a taste of blood." 
 
 However that may be, sanguinary commissions were 
 speedily appointed, and they wrought speedy vengeance. 
 History records the names Cimella, Gattinara, and Gala- 
 teri as the agents of a persecution not less merciless than 
 
 ^ Brofferio : Storia del Piemonte (Turin, 1850). part III, i, 41-3.
 
 CONSPIRACY GETS ITS LEADER. 399 
 
 that of the Butcher of Modena himself. At Chambery, 
 Genoa, Alessandria, and smaller towns, prisoners were 
 passed from torture to torture, to end on the scaffold or 
 in the galleys. Some were enticed to confess by being 
 shown the coimterf eit confessions of their comrades ; some 
 were imprisoned with spies, to whom they unwittingly 
 confided their secret; some were shaken by harmful food 
 or drugs, till their reason tottered and their self-command 
 deserted them ; some were terrified by groans and strange 
 sounds, uttered night after night in the corridors of their 
 prison; some heard shots fired beneath their windows, 
 and supposed that their friends had been executed; some 
 were importuned by the prayers of their parents, wives, 
 and children. One youth, James Iluflfini, finding that 
 his resolution was weakening under the strain of horrors, 
 and dreading lest he miglit betray his accomplices, tore a 
 piece of sheet-iron from the door of his cell, sharpened it 
 on the stone floor, and cut his tliroat. Another victim, 
 Vochieri, having resisted all terrors and coaxings, was 
 led out to be shot, his executioners taking care that he 
 should pass his own house on the way to death. In a few 
 weeks, eleven alleged conspirators had been executed, 
 many more had been sentenced to the galleys, and others, 
 who had escaped, were condennied in contumacy. Among 
 the men who fled into exile at this time were two of wlioni 
 we shall hear much liereafter, A^incent (lioberti and Jo- 
 sej)h Garibaldi. The goverinnent sealed its severity by 
 an edict threatening any one wlio introduciHl or circulated 
 publications hostile to tlic ])rinci{)les of monarchy with 
 the galleys for from two to five years, or even with death, 
 and by offering a rtnvard of one hundred crowns to any 
 informer.^ 
 
 To an enthusiiist less detennincd than ]Maz/.ini, this 
 calamity would have been a clicck : to liini, liowever. it 
 
 ' Hri)fTi'ri<), /. r. l;]-.">4 ; l'o^j;i, ii, llli-^" ; (f;illeiij;;;i, iii, ;')27->> ; (Jiialtfrio, 
 iii, chap. 'M.
 
 400 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 was a spur. Instead of abandoning the expedition 
 against Savoy, he worked with might and main to hurry 
 it on. His countrymen at home had trusted in the coop- 
 eration of Young Italy ; they had been surprised and pun- 
 ished ; they must not be deserted. Mazzini counted upon 
 the wrath which the recent cruelty of the government had 
 stirred up: he felt bound to rush to the rescue of the 
 prisoners, and he saw in Charles Albert's redoubled tyr- 
 anny a stronger reason for action. He accordingly col- 
 lected recruits from among his fellow-exiles, — Italians, 
 Poles, Germans, and Magyars, — and expected aid from 
 the French Republicans. But his nondescript forces, 
 which one chronicler estimated at a thousand, must have 
 a soldier at their head, and the cry being for Ramorino, 
 that general, born at Nice, but recently conspicuous in 
 the Polish revolution, agreed to take command of them. 
 Mazzini, while lacking confidence in him, deferred to the 
 popular will, and gave him forty thousand francs with 
 which to go to Paris and buy the necessary arms. The 
 attack on Savoy was to be made at the end of October, 
 1833, but, a little before the appointed day, Ramorino 
 sent word that he needed another month's preparation; 
 when that elapsed, he asked for a further postponement. 
 Finally, as January, 1834, was closing, Mazzini, who 
 suspected that the general was using the revolutionary 
 funds at the gaming-table, sent him notice that the blow 
 must be struck at once, for the recruits collected at Ge- 
 neva were growing disheartened, the funds were nearly 
 exhausted, and it w\as evident that both the Swiss and 
 the French government had knowledge of their designs. 
 Ramorino therefore quitted Paris, and, still protesting 
 that it was folly to open the campaign with an ill-equipped 
 force, he took command of one column, in which were 
 fifty Italians and twice as many Poles, that was to enter 
 Savoy by way of Annemasse. A second column had or- 
 ders to push on from Nyon ; a third, starting from Lv-
 
 CONSPIRACY GETS ITS LEADEU. 401 
 
 ons, was to march towards Chambery. Mazzini, with a 
 musket on his shoulder, accompanied the first party. To 
 his surprise, the peasants showed no enthusiasm when the 
 tricolor flag was unfurled and the invaders shouted "God 
 and People! Liberty and the Republic I" before them. 
 At length some carabineers and a platoon of troops ap- 
 peared. A few shots were fired. Mazzini fainted; his 
 comrades dispersed across the Swiss border, taking him 
 with them. When he recovered consciousness, he real- 
 ized that the invasion had come to a ludicrous end. His 
 enemies attributed his fainting to cowardice ; he himself 
 explained it as the result of many nights of sleeplessness, 
 of great fatigue, fever and cold, and he charged liamorino 
 with wilful negligence. Ramorino retorted that he had 
 insisted that such a gang of visionaries must inevitably 
 fail. To all but the few concerned in it, this first venture 
 of Young Italy seemed a farce, the disproportion between 
 its aim and its achievement was so enormous, and Maz- 
 zini 's personal collapse was so ignominous.^ 
 
 Nevertheless, Italian consi)iracy had now and hence- 
 forth that head for lack of wliich it had so Ions floun- 
 dered amid vague and contradictory purposes. Tlie 
 young Idealist had been beaten in his first encounter with 
 obdurate Reality, but he was not discouraged. His was 
 a nature which, Antajus-like, renewed its strength with 
 every fall, and drew from defeat the conviction that he 
 nuist struggle harder. Now began in earnest that "apos- 
 tolate" of his, which he laid down only at his death. 
 Young Italy was established beyond the chance of being 
 destroyed by an abortive ex])editi()n: Young Poland, 
 Young Hungary, Young P^urope itself, sj)rang up after 
 the Mazziuian ])attern: the Liberals and revolutionists of 
 the Continent felt that their cause was international, and 
 in their afHietion tlicy fr;iterni:'A'd. No one could draw 
 so fair and reasonable a Utojiia for them as Mazzini 
 
 ' Alaz^ui, i, Jjjrj-OlS.
 
 402 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 drew; no one could so fire tliem with a sense of duty, 
 with hope, with energy. He became the mainspring of 
 the whole machine — truly an infernal machine to the 
 autocrats — of European conspiracy. The redemption 
 of Italy was always his nearest aim, but his generous 
 principle reached out over other nations, for in the world 
 that he prophesied every people must be free. 
 
 Proscribed in Piedmont, expelled from Switzerland, 
 denied lodging in France, he took refuge in London, there 
 to direct, amid poverty and heartache, the whole vast 
 scheme of plots. His bread he earned by writing critical 
 and literary essays for the English reviews, — he quickly 
 mastered the English language so as to use it with remark- 
 able vigor, — and all his leisure he devoted to the prepa- 
 ration of political tracts, and to correspondence with 
 numberless confederates. He watched the symptoms of 
 every part of Italy; he studied the map and laid out 
 campaigns; he shipped arms and munition to various 
 points; he indited proclamations, concerted signals, en- 
 rolled volunteers, instigated, encouraged, and counseled. 
 He was the consulting physician for all the revolutionary 
 practitioners of Europe. Those who were not his parti- 
 sans disparaged his influence, asserting that he was onl}^ 
 a man of words ; but the best proof of his power lies in 
 the anxiety he caused monarchs and cabinets, and in the 
 precautions they took to guard against him. Their spies 
 lurked in his shadow; they even induced the British 
 postmaster-general to open his letters, — a baseness 
 which prevents the name of Graham from being forgotten ; 
 th(y sowed reports reeking with terrible insinuations 
 against his character and methods; they bade their sub- 
 jects to abhor him as a diabolical incendiary who wished 
 to u])set thrones and altars, and who, in the anarchy that 
 would ensue, would let loose his red-handed followers to 
 ravish and plunder. Mazzini denied the charge that he 
 approved or condoned political assassination, although he
 
 CONSPIKACY GETS ITS LEADER. 403 
 
 admitted that he had given money and a dagger to a 
 young fanatic, Gallenga, who had vowed to kill Charles 
 Albert,^ In friendly intercourse he was so gentle, so 
 unselfish, so insistent in matters spiritual, that the few 
 persons who knew him well could not believe that he 
 would descend to criminal methods in order to compass 
 his reforms, which were essentially moral. 
 
 Mazzini and Metternich ! For nearly twenty years they 
 were the antipodes of European politics. One, in his 
 London garret, poor, despised, yet indomitable and sleep- 
 less, sending his influence like an electric current through 
 all barriers to revivify the heart of Italy and of Liberal 
 Europe ; the other in his Vienna palace, haughty, famous, 
 equally alert and cunning, with all material and hierarch- 
 ical powers to aid him, shedding over Italy and over Eu- 
 rope his upas-doctrines of torpor and decay ! Karely, in- 
 deed, has a period rich in contrasts seen its antagonistic 
 extremes made flesh in two such men. Then, as so 
 often before in human history, the Champion of the Past, 
 — arrogant, materialist, and self-satisfied, but waning — 
 had a palace to his dwelling, while the Apostle of the Fu- 
 ture foimd only a cheap lodging and an exile's welcome 
 in a foreign land. 
 
 1 Gallenga, iii, 338-9 ; Mazzini, i, 347-52.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A DECADE OF CONTRADICTIONS, 1833-i3. 
 
 Conspiracy had now its leader, its political and moral 
 principles, and its definite aim. No member of Young 
 Italy could plead ignorance of the cause to which he was 
 pledged: and there dropped upon him from time to time 
 newspapers and tracts full of brave words and ethical 
 counsel, emanating from Mazzini. But Young Italy, 
 which was to have been the seci of the People, failed to 
 stir the cloddish peasantry and the lowest class of towns- 
 men; master-artisans and professional men, and espe- 
 cially enthusiastic students, were the recruits it attracted. 
 Conspiracy had its head, — but where? In London, far 
 removed from its members. The distance between them 
 was too great, it opened too broad a field for delays and 
 misunderstandings. Young Italy might make converts 
 so rapidly as to alarm the Italian governments and to 
 cause Metternich to set spies on Mazzini ; but it could not 
 overcome that fatal remoteness between the head and the 
 members. 
 
 Autocracy, for its part, was waking up to the unpleas- 
 ant conviction that it had a permanent evil to contend 
 with. After Waterloo, it had thought that a few years 
 of vigilance and energy would suffice to exterminate the 
 last offshoots of Liberalism. The French Revolution had 
 failed ; Napoleon had been beaten ; what more was needed 
 than that the Old Regime should diligently weed out the 
 tares that had been sown between 1789 and 1815 ? Once 
 clear the garden, and the old-fashioned plants would grow 
 undisturbed. But after fifteen years of incessant weeding
 
 A DECADE OF CONTRADICTIONS. 405 
 
 and trimming, the tares still flourished; and now Auto- 
 cracy began to realize that it was pitted against an invis- 
 ible Sower, from whose hand new seeds fell as fast as it 
 destroyed the old. The "three glorious days of July," and 
 the subsequent revolutions, taught the autocrats that the 
 state of siege and political quarantine, which they had 
 adopted as extraordinary measures against what they 
 believed would be a passing danger, must be perpetu- 
 ally maintained ; for the danger was chronic, and it con- 
 stantly increased. Not a few turbulent men, but a Great 
 Thought was their adversary : that Thought was Liberty, 
 and under the guise of a desire, a need, or a duty, it kept 
 the nations restless and their oi)pressors anxious. 
 
 In a government where the people has representatives 
 to express its will and frame its laws, the personality of 
 the sovereign is usually of secondary importance; but 
 in an autocracy, the character of the sovereign determines 
 not only the administration but also tlie social life of the 
 people, to a degree that seejus exorbitant if we reflect 
 on the qualiflcations of most monarchs. And a nation 
 proves that it deserves the curse of despotism, by the 
 significance it attaches to every gesture and whim of its 
 ruler. It judges, as the world in general judges, by 
 clothes and externals: a trifling condescension, a gra- 
 cious bow, a smile from its rider, suflice for it to l)reak 
 out in acclamations, — as if Nero himself never smiled I 
 A tyrannized people, living in the dread of conditions 
 worse tlian the present, learns by instinct to flatter, and 
 is an easy i>rey to flattery. After many de('ei)ti<)ns, it 
 looks forward to tlie advent of thi' ])i'esent tyrant "s suc- 
 cessor. The new king may have new ideas; the change 
 wari'ants hojx', and hope utters itself in rejoicings. It 
 happened that new ndci-s came to the throni' in Naples, 
 Koine, and Piechnont, just at the time of tlie revolution (tf 
 18^51; and as usual, Liberals and Reactionists s])eculatcd 
 as to the efYect these unknown <piantities would produce.
 
 406 THE DAWN or ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Of the three, Ferdinand II, who succeeded to the crown 
 of Naples, November 8, 1830, excited the greatest enthu- 
 siasm. His father, Francis, had been so detestable 
 that every one was glad to be rid of him, and no one be- 
 lieved that his infamous traits could reappear in his suc- 
 cessor. But Ferdinand aroused more than this negative 
 sentiment in his subjects; he had positive traits that com- 
 mended him to them and justified their joyful expecta- 
 tions. He was young and soldierly; he seemed energetic 
 and good-natured, and he was not charged with debauch- 
 ery. He cleansed the palace of the vile creatures of both 
 sexes who had pandered to his father's evil desires; he 
 dismissed Vaglica and the chambermaid De Simone ; he 
 swept out the courtiers and the pet parrots ; he abolished 
 the spendthrift hunting-establishment. When he talked 
 favorably of amnesty for political offenders, and actually 
 allowed his soldiers to wear moustaches, — those emblems 
 of Carbonarism, — the Liberals grew confident ; when he 
 cut down the appropriations for the civil list, and did 
 away with the poll-tax, eulogists could not restrain their 
 odes of thanksgiving. In verse and prose they lauded 
 "the new Titus," whom heaven, in its mercy, had vouch- 
 safed to them.i 
 
 Ferdinand propitiated the Sicilians by sending his 
 brother, the Count of Syracuse, to rule over them. He 
 seemed determined also to be his own master in his rela- 
 tions abroad. Louis Philippe, his kinsman, wrote and 
 counseled him to conform to the spirit of the times, by 
 taking the July monarchy, on whose friendship he could 
 rely, as a model ; the Emperor of Austria urged him to 
 make no concessions, but to imitate his father and grand- 
 father in following Austria's guidance. To Louis Phi- 
 lippe Ferdinand replied that his subjects did not need 
 much scope for thought, as he intended to think for them ; 
 to the Emperor he expressed gratitude for the proffers 
 
 1 Nisco: FercUnando II (Naples, 1890), 5-11.
 
 A DECADE OF CONTRADICTIONS. 4 '37 
 
 of friendship, but declared that he did not intend to be 
 under obligations to foreign arras? ^ These various acts 
 and promises made the young King so popular during the 
 first raonths of his reign that even the conspirators de- 
 bated whether they could not persuade him to become the 
 champion of the Liberal clause. He was ambitious, 
 therefore let him join them and win the crown of Italy for 
 himself. But Ferdinand resisted the temptation, saying 
 that, were he to be successful, "he should not know what 
 to do with the Pope."^ The older and warier Liberals 
 looked on skeptically during Ferdinand's honeymoon of 
 popularity. "A Liberal Bourbon is as unthinkable as a 
 stripeless tiger: let us wait," — so they mused, or whis- 
 pered to each other. It is well to remember, however, 
 that this Ferdinand, who became in later years an abomi- 
 nation to the civilized world, was hailed at the outset as a 
 patriotic, justice-loving prince. 
 
 His true character soon began to reveal itself. He was 
 not in the least a reformer; he cared nothing for the 
 welfare of his people, and all his measures were aimed 
 at increasing his authority irrespective of their wishes. 
 His somewhat liaughty attitude towards France and Aus- 
 tria was not ins])ired by a sense of dignity, but by wilful- 
 ness. He was bent on making a show in the world. So 
 he remodeled his ai-uiy. and, when not too lazy, — indo- 
 lence being one of his ruling traits, — he conducted the 
 military drills with a mock-martial strictness. He ap- 
 j)<)iiitc(l six lieutenant-generals, thirty brigadiers, and 
 fourteen tield-inarslials, whose unifoiins doubtless enliv- 
 ened the dress-jjarades.-' As a tri]>ute to the .Jesuits, lu' 
 created the mcinon/ of Ignatius Loyola a fielil-niarshal, 
 and paid over to tiiem the salary ai)pertaining to that 
 rank.* The parasites who had deliled his father's admin- 
 
 ' Scttcmliriiii : Riconlnnz' (Xajjlcs, IS'.Ht). i. 4"_'. 
 
 - Nisco. :!(). 
 
 « TotiKi. ii. i:Jl. 
 
 * Perrens : Diux Ans dt K, vidutiim >n Itaiu: (Paris, 1S.")7), 411*.
 
 408 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 istration he replaced by others scarcely less disgraceful. 
 Delcarretto, the renegade Carbonaro who had destroyed 
 the town of Bosco and signalized himself by similar bar- 
 barities in 1828, was appointed Minister of Police, a 
 position from which he soon rose to be the King's chief 
 adviser. With Monsignor Code, the unscrupulous royal 
 confessor, Delcarretto competed for the entire mastery of 
 Ferdinand's actions; and now one, now the other, gained 
 the ascendant by flattery or craft. Santangelo, Minister 
 of the Interior, had the reputation of an embezzler, but 
 the King, instead of investigating the charge, laughed at 
 it.^ Corruption was in every department. Places were 
 bought and sold, — Delcarretto nominated his ten-year- 
 old son to be treasurer of the bank of discount with a 
 salary of six thousand ducats ; ^ every one, from the min- 
 isters down to the turnkeys in the prison, took bribes 
 or levied blackmail. The financial reforms proved illu- 
 sory, — as, for instance, the abolition of the grist-tax, for 
 which another impost was substituted. The King's econ- 
 omy was soon seen to spring from avarice. 
 
 In his private life, Ferdinand had only one virtue, — 
 he was not profligate. Illiterate, he had a certain shallow 
 wit that stood him in the stead of education. At times 
 he affected great solicitude for public morals: thus he 
 decreed that the ballet-dancers at the theatre of San 
 Carlo should wear green tights, on the grovmd that that 
 color would least excite the animal passions of the male 
 spectators; and he ordered public prostitutes to be ex- 
 pelled from the capital, but winked when they bribed the 
 police not to molest them.^ In temper he was jovial or 
 surly ; in manners a boor. He used to amuse himself by 
 caning a chaniberlain's legs and seeing him hop about in 
 agony ; so his royal father had had the pleasant habit of 
 drop])ing liot wax from a candle on the nose of one of his 
 courtiers, and laughing at the blister he raised. Once 
 
 ^ Settembrini, i, 54-5. ^ p^rreiis, 419. ^ Ibid.
 
 A DECADE OF CONTRADICTIONS. 409 
 
 Ferdinand pulled the music-stool away just as his wife 
 was about to sit down at the piano, and as she sprawled 
 on the floor, he roared. "I thought I had married the 
 King of Naples and not a laz7Mroiie,'''' she exclaimed in- 
 dignantly.^ That word describes Ferdinand best, — he 
 was by instinct a lazzarone^ by chance a king; in all 
 things, except his apparel, akin to the beggars of the 
 Chiaja, — a loafer, a banterer, a bully, a creature swayed 
 by his sensations, deceitful, obstinate or cringing, quick 
 to fly into a passion or to turn off the gravest matter with 
 a joke. 
 
 As soon as the conspirators understood Ferdinand's 
 real nature, they leaped from their momentary quiescence 
 into redoubled activity. In 1831 a tumult broke out at 
 Palermo ; in 1832 a burrow of plotters was unearthed at 
 Nola; in 1833 a cavalry officer named Rossaroll planned 
 with several confederates to kill the King at a military 
 review, and tliat same year there was frustrated an insur- 
 rection in which it was said sixty thousand conspirators 
 would take part.^ Chance, or a tell-tale accomplice, or 
 the vigilance of the police, caused all these schemes to 
 fail, but they so alarmed Ferdinand that he i)rop()stHl 
 to his fcllow-monarchs to form a league for extirpating 
 political incendiaries, and he was ch:igrined when tlicy 
 declined his proposition.^ And now the prisons swarmed 
 with victims, many of whom had been arrested merely 
 on suspicion, while many moi-e were detained one ye;ir or 
 two after the judges had di'clared them innocent. What 
 those i)ris()ns wvre, with their iilth, their crut'ltv. their 
 obscenity, e(pialing the worst that has ever been told of 
 Siberia or tiu; (hingeons of the In(iuisition, lias l)eeii re- 
 corded by some of the brave men who suffered in theni.^ 
 But when have arrests and persecutions strangled a move- 
 ment like that which had been, for twenty years, agitat- 
 
 ' S^'ttcnibrini. i, ")!. - r<)<ji;i. ii, l;;i-^. ^ Hi.-iiulii. iii. iTiS, 
 
 * St'ttoml)riiii"s liuurdanzc, for iiistaiicc ari,' \ivid and tru.slwortliv.
 
 410 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 ing Italy ? The conspirators would not surrender ; they 
 had not yet sufficient harmony and moral strength to con- 
 quer. Even those ethical precepts of Young Italy were 
 lono" in takinir root in a character so debased as was that 
 of the Neapolitans, who rebelled, for the most part, for 
 the same reason that the trodden worm turns. It seemed 
 probable that some of the small tumults which spurted 
 up periodically were carefully prepared by the King's 
 ministers, in order to convince him that they were indis- 
 pensable to his safety. Delcarretto and the confessor 
 Code were the real masters of the kingdom, although 
 they were satisfied to have their policy seem to be shaped 
 by the King. 
 
 In 1835, Asiatic cholera, which had been steadily 
 spreading over Europe from India during the past five 
 years, appeared in Northern Italy. The following sea- 
 son it swept southward through the Peninsula. So dev- 
 astating an epidemic had not been known for two cen- 
 turies. Fifty thousand victims perished in Lombardy; 
 five thousand four hundred in Rome, five thousand in 
 Naples, and every town and hamlet had its heaps of 
 dead and its crowds of panic-stricken living. Pestilence 
 and earthquake are the two great calamities which make 
 a general havoc of all brave and unselfish qualities; 
 among even the stanchest races, they wrench asunder the 
 ties of kin and friendship and common humanity, and 
 substitute a pitiless, demoniac terror. Upon the morale 
 of a people like the Neapolitans, superstitious and excit- 
 able, the effect of such an epidemic must always have 
 been destructive, for their religion itself was based on 
 terror; but now a political delusion intensified their 
 frenzy. It was whispered that the pest was caused by 
 the government, which poisoned the food and water of 
 the people, in order to get rid of the surplus population, 
 as well as to punish its enemies and to complete the sub- 
 jection of the survivors. This suspicion of poison has
 
 A DECADE OF CONTRADICTIONS. 411 
 
 added horrors to many plagues; Thucydides says that 
 the Peloponnesians were supposed to have poisoned the 
 Athenian cisterns in the plague of B. c. 430 ; ^ Manzoni 
 describes the popular fury against the alleged anointers 
 at Milan, in 1630 ; ^ at Naples, in 1836-7, the long infamy 
 of the Bourbon rule gave plausibility to the assertion 
 that the King's ministers were capable even of this crime. 
 Ferdinand, to allay the excitement, went to a baker's 
 shop and ate bread, but the suspicion was not dissipated ; 
 and only when cold weather came were the ravages of the 
 disease stayed. 
 
 In the ensuing spring, 1837, the epidemic broke out 
 with fiercer violence. Everything helped to widen its 
 track. The minds of the Neapolitans were already terror- 
 stricken ; their bodies were ill-fed ; they were housed in 
 squalor; their streets were filthy. This time, 13,800 
 victims died in Naples alone within less than five months. 
 The cholera swej)t on through the Abruzzi and Calabria, 
 and passed into Sicily. Whoever could, fled; but flight 
 was beyond the means of the masses, who remained to 
 tremble and die. Husbands, mothers, sons, when the 
 disease smote one of their number, forgetting their duty, 
 their afl'ection, and all but their terror, liid themselves. 
 Sometimes all the members of a household were stricken 
 together, and died with none to tend them, until the 
 stench from their corj)ses warned the neighbors to come 
 and bury them. Great ditches had to be dug, into whicli 
 the tumbrils dumped tlieir load of bodies, upon wlilch 
 (juickliuK! was shoveled. The oi-dinary course of l)usi- 
 ness was interrupted and the necessaries of life became 
 scarce; ])riests no h)nger pei"fornted tlie last oflices over 
 the dying or chanted masses for tlie dead. The sih'nee 
 was at times liorrible, l)ut more horrible were the shrieks 
 of the ])estilenee-stri('ken, and the thud of some coi'psi' 
 flung from an upper window to tlu' ])aveinent for the 
 
 ' Thucydides, ii, 48. - / I'ruinfssi Sjtosi, cliaps ;11, .'!:.'.
 
 412 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 buriers to take away ; horrible, too, was that long-drawn 
 rumble of the carts, and the shouts and unseemly laugh- 
 ter of the men who piled them high with the naked or 
 half -clad bodies of men, women, and children. And, as 
 always happens when a calamity falls upon and dehuman- 
 izes a people, many gave themselves up to desperate or- 
 gies, to drunkenness and debauch, while waiting for the 
 plague to attack them. Nevertheless, some there were 
 whose noble nature conquered fear and restrained brutal 
 instincts, — some monks and priests and physicians, 
 who would not desert the sick until their own turn came 
 to succumb. In Palermo the cholera raged for a hun- 
 dred days, and carried off upwards of forty thousand 
 souls ; as many more perished in other parts of Sicily. 
 
 To their delirium was added the horror of insvirrection. 
 The cry of poison was revived, and any unfortunate crea- 
 ture on whom suspicion fell was ruthlessly dispatched. 
 An old man, who had fled from Palermo to escape cholera, 
 was seized and burnt alive with his son. A Frenchman, 
 who conducted a panorama at Syracuse, was torn to 
 pieces. Woe to the person in whose house a suspicious 
 vial or perfume was found ! Sentinels guarded the wells 
 and public fountains day and night. The delusion, like 
 the plague, infected all classes. Cardinal Trigona ex- 
 claimed in his death-agony, "There is no remedy for this 
 poison." The naturalist Scina died, believing that he, 
 too, had been poisoned. And from this strange credulity 
 to pass to the belief that the government was the poisoner 
 was but a step. What part the sectaries took in spread- 
 ing this insinuation, we cannot say ; but undoubtedly they 
 incited the maddened people to revolt. At Penne, in 
 Calabria, there was an outbreak, temporarily successful; 
 then the government sent Colonel Tanfani to wreak ven- 
 geance on the town. At Gaeta, at Cosenza, and at other 
 points on the mainland revolutionary jets were quickly 
 extinguished, and the government turned the tables on 
 the conspirators by charging them with the poisoning.
 
 A DECADE OF CONTRADICTIONS. 413 
 
 But in Sicily, where the hatred of the Bourbons and the 
 desire for Home Rule needed at any time only a spark to 
 flame up in rebellion, the agitators kindled a far more 
 dangerous conflagration. Syracuse revolted, and declared 
 its independence; Catania shouted for the Constitution, 
 and then, reaction having set in, the Royalists prevailed. 
 Palermo was in a ferment; every district was tossed by 
 fear of pestilence and the alarms of civil war; but the 
 force of the agitation had almost spent itself when Ferdi- 
 nand, who was not a king to let part of his realm slip 
 from him without his striving to retain it, gave full pow- 
 ers to Delcarretto to reduce the island to submission. 
 Delcarretto's strength lay in punishing. To do justice, 
 to conciliate, to make allowance for excesses committed 
 under the frenzy caused by the pest, — such considera- 
 tions as these moved him not. Within a month he had 
 terrified the islanders into docility. Hundreds of victims 
 were condemned to the galleys and prisons, some, no 
 doubt, deservedly, but as there was no fair trial, there 
 could be only guesswork in assigning the penalty ; many 
 scores were executed ; and a price was set on the heads 
 of those who had escaped. Delcarretto employed tortures 
 that would have disgraced a Tartar khan : sucli as hanfr- 
 ing men up by the wrists to the branches of trees, flogging 
 them till blood flowed, depriving them of food and sleep, 
 tearing out their liair in iKiudfuls, l)inding them in most 
 painful and obscene fasliion; "in short," says the liisto- 
 rian who relates these atrocities, "the cannibals of the 
 government wished to show that they were more fero- 
 cious tlian the cannibals of tlie ])o])ul:i('e.'' ^ An<l as evi- 
 dence of his insensibility, Delcarretto, wliilst these out- 
 rages were in progress, gave l)an([uets and balls at the 
 communal ])alaee in Catania, and ri'([uirt'(l tlie mothers 
 and daugliters of his victims to attend them.- AVlien 
 
 ' Niseo, ')('). 
 
 '" PoK'pi, ii, !'•'<); ('(nisult .■ilso N'iscn. Turotti (ii. 4o.')-S), (iiuilturio (cliap. 
 04), and Claldi {Finlinuiulo II). fur fiutlii r iletails.
 
 414 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 order had been restored, the King set about wiping out 
 all trace of Sicilian autonomy, by reorganizing the ad- 
 ministration of the island. But he could not blot the 
 recollection of the horrors of the year 1837 from the 
 minds of the Sicilians, nor could he, despite all his com- 
 j)ulsion, wrench from them their desire of Home Rule. 
 
 From these facts we get sufficient insight into the na- 
 ture of Ferdinand and his government, and as our pres- 
 ent purpose is to estimate the forces which worked for 
 and against the Liberal cause at this period, we need not 
 describe minutely events which, Time has proved, had 
 only a secondary and transient importance. Such, for 
 instance, was Ferdinand's quarrel with England over the 
 Sicilian sulphur mines, — a quarrel which he hastened to 
 patch up, when a squadron of British men-of-war came 
 into the harbor of Naples and unmasked their guns ; such, 
 also, were his casual bickerings with Austria or with the 
 Pope. The great fact is that Ferdinand, by the year 
 1840, stood before the civilized world as a ruler not less 
 odious than his father and grandfather had been; more 
 vigorous than they, his tyranny was therefore more swift 
 and skilful in persecuting; but his power, like theirs, was 
 based on espionage and cruelty, and he maintained his 
 hold, not because he was really strong, but because his 
 subjects were weak, and because the autocrats of Europe 
 tacitly supported him. The corruption of his officials, 
 the barbarity of his judicial and penal systems, the. dis- 
 soluteness of his Court, the misery of the populace in the 
 cities and tlie insolence of brigands in the country, made 
 Naples loathsome among nations, and gave to the epithet 
 Bourbon that evil siOTiificance wliich will clins: to it for- 
 ever. The "new Titus" was seen to be a new Caligula, 
 whose aggravated tyranny encouraged plotting. The 
 Kingdom of the Two Sicilies continued to be a hotbed 
 of cons})irators ; but though they were eager to rebel, the 
 sects still lacked integrity and union. Young Italy itself
 
 A DECADE OF CONTRADICTIONS. 415 
 
 could not quickly convert such material into a fit instru- 
 ment for its patriotic enterprise, but ran the risk of being 
 itself perverted. 
 
 Of Gregory XVI, the new sovereign of the Papal 
 States, we have already had a glimpse during the revolu- 
 tion which troubled the beginning of his reign. Kaised 
 from a monk's cloister to the pontifical throne, he dis- 
 played in all his civil acts the incompetence and bigotry 
 of a monk. His fair promises to reform his government 
 vanished into thin air as soon as the representatives of 
 the Great Powers had presented their Memorandum and 
 withdrawn. In the tribunals, in the departments of po- 
 lice and finance, not less than in the diplomatic service 
 and even in local administration, ecclesiastics had con- 
 trol. To be a layman meant practically to be cut off 
 from all privileges and sinecures — and they were innu- 
 merable — and from all hope of preferment. Therefore it 
 was that any man who had ambition or cupidity took or- 
 ders, that he might qualify himself to feed at the papal 
 trough; and many a vile wretch, who, in other countries 
 would have been known only as a pot-house politician or 
 as the corrupt tool of lobbyists, wore the livery of the 
 Papacy, and used his holy office for private ends. Greg- 
 ory had for his favorite a certain Moroni, formerly liis 
 barber and now his major-domo, — a nimble fellow, who 
 trafficked in offices and levied bribes on petitioners, and 
 grew rich. If Gregory was ignorant of this scandal, none 
 of his subjects were. You will search in vain through 
 the opinions of those contemporaries, of whatever l)arty, 
 who were competent to express an opinion, for any com- 
 mendation of Gregory's government. "As a sovereign," 
 said Cardinal Bernetti, the Secretary of State, "lie is 
 worth little, or p(!rlia})s nothing at all." ^ "If you wished 
 to please the Holy Father," wrot(! the Piedinontese envoy 
 at Rome, "you would have to make a present to Gaetano 
 
 ' Biaiifhi, iii, l.^S.
 
 416 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Moroni, a valet who lias his entire confidence. You 
 might give him a ring or a fine piece of silver; but for 
 that you would need to find him some pretext, that is, 
 employ him in some matter, and then make him the pres- 
 ent as a recompense."^ "Among the numerous difficul- 
 ties to which the position of the countries under Papal 
 rule daily gives rise," Metternich wrote, "there is no 
 question that the most insuperable of all is connected 
 with the fact that the government has no idea how to 
 govern."^ 
 
 Nevertheless the Austrian chancellor discountenanced 
 reforms in the Papal States, and denied that the Pope 
 was bound to listen to any appeal for "progressive ame- 
 lioration." For it was plainly Austria's interest to have 
 at Rome a tottering and despised government, which fur- 
 nished an excuse for Austria's surveillance and interfer- 
 ence. The danger from an outbreak of Gregory's sub- 
 jects would not equal the danger in the example of Papal 
 States well governed and contented ; insurrection could be 
 put down, but the example would unsettle Austria's Lom- 
 bard and Venetian vassals. Utopians were already talk- 
 ing of a federation of the Italian States under the headship 
 of the Pope ; for Metternich to encourage the Pope in a 
 policy which made him detested was therefore a piece 
 of excellent strategy, by which Gregory was easily caught. 
 Pie removed Cardinal Bernetti, whom Metternich did not 
 like, and appointed Cardinal Lambruschini, whom Met- 
 ternich approved, as secretary of state ; for the same rea- 
 son he reorganized the body of centurions. He was, in 
 a word, subservient to Austria in his internal adminis- 
 tration. Lambruschini was an implacable reactionary. 
 He called in the Inquisition to help hiui hunt down and 
 punish political offenders; he dispensed justice according 
 to whim or prejudice; he repressed every murmur, and 
 stifled every Liberal breath. Yet in Rome itself, with all 
 ^ Bianchi, iii, 159. ^ Metternich, v, 2oG.
 
 A DECADE OF CONTRADICTIONS. 417 
 
 its host of police and spies and Swiss mercenaries, public 
 safety was so uncared for that bakers had to be guarded 
 by a posse of gendarmes when they delivered their bread 
 every morning. 
 
 The revolution of 1831 had established as a fact, — 
 what had long been suspected, — that the l^apacy could 
 not maintain itself without foreign support. There was 
 never a day after 1831 when an overwhelming majority 
 of the inhabitants of the Papal States, had they been left 
 to their own motion, would not have freed themselves from 
 Gregory's temporal sovereignty. What more damning 
 condemnation can the bitterest enemies of the Pa])al 
 government make than simi)ly to state this fact? The 
 misrule of the Vicar of Christ was so iniquitous that his 
 own subjects pi'eferred any other rather than that. But 
 Austria and France were pledged to prevent the Romans 
 from throwing off their hateful incubus; and Gregory 
 had to rely upon them and his Swiss mercenaries, many 
 of whom were Protestants, to keep his "dearly beloved 
 children " from driving him out of Rome. 
 
 In matters ecclesiastical, Gregory's pretensions were as 
 extravagant as his civil power was weak. He adopted 
 that policy, which his successors have pursued, of combat- 
 ing the growing Liberalism and tolerance which charac- 
 terize our modern age by promulgating dogmas yet 
 more intolerant and more retrograde. He would have 
 blotted out seven centuries of progress, and tln-ust Kurope 
 back into the religious and social condition of the era of 
 the third Innocent. Thus in human institutions as in 
 animal organisms, when the limit of growth had been 
 reached, there is a reversion to lower and cruder forms. 
 Gregory asserted, in his negotiations with Catliolie Pow- 
 ers, the riglit of the C'hurcli to dictate to tlie State, — a 
 claim wliii-h has always been invulnerable from the Papal 
 standpoint and wliieli the Holy Alliance could not eon- 
 sistentlv <lenv : lor had it not luatle the restoratioii of the
 
 418 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 feudal Past the basis of European order since 1815? 
 Metternich, however, was never a slave to consistency, 
 and while he propped up Gregory in Rome, and urged 
 him to deal boldly with other rulers, he gave no scope to 
 Papal interference in the Austrian Empire. 
 
 Thus in the States of the Church as in the Kingdom 
 of the Two Sicilies, there were a thousand reasons why 
 subjects should conspire, none why they should submit. 
 But in view of the holy office which the Roman sovereign 
 arrogated, -^ in view of his being the recognized repre- 
 sentative of Christ, the corruption, the injustice, the 
 cruelty, the deceitfulness of his government seemed far 
 more shocking than similar crimes against civilization 
 committed by the Bourbon barbarians at Naples. Greg- 
 ory's reign was so hated that all parties, except the 
 coterie of bigots who squatted round the Papal thx-one, 
 felt that it could not long endure; in the Legations, a 
 sect called the "Ferdinandea " actually plotted in behalf 
 of annexation to Austria. 
 
 The third of the new rulers was Charles Albert. For 
 ten years, except during the brief Spanish campaign, he 
 had lived in retirement, cursed by the Liberals as a 
 traitor, and distrusted by the Reactionists as a would-be 
 Liberal, because of his ambiguous course in the revolu- 
 tion of 1821. His accession was a moment of suspense 
 for both factions. The Liberals hoped, and the others 
 feared, that, being now king and his own master, he 
 would dare to retrieve his former fault ; but he satisfied 
 neither. He talked of reform, but he kept the ministers 
 of Charles Felix, — men to whom cliange meant chaos. 
 His amnesty extended only to a batch of common crim- 
 inals, — no political prisoner nor exile was benefited by 
 it. He established a Council which, having only a con- 
 sultative power, was a mere echo of the ministry. And 
 yet the Reactionists were constantly afraid that he would 
 slip away from them, until the political turmoil of 1833
 
 A DECADE OF CONTRADICTIONS. 419 
 
 gave them a chance to implicate him in the bloody work 
 of repression. Then they thought that they had opened 
 an abyss between Charles Albert and the Liberals which 
 neither would try to bridge. Erelong, it appeared, how- 
 ever, that although he had rigid notions of kingship, he 
 took no ogreish delight in blood. He was stern, but not 
 cruel. 
 
 The Italians, in and out of Piedmont, who had come to 
 believe that their country's liberation might be achieved 
 through the House of Savoy were most incensed by Charles 
 Albert's apparent surrender to Austrian influence. They 
 knew nothing of the secret pledge, extorted from him in 
 1824, that he would not change the fundamental char- 
 acter of the government. His first object was to be 
 master at home, and as his conspiring subjects woidd 
 have thwarted him in that, he naturally leaned upon 
 Austria as the Power wliit-h excelled in the art of crush- 
 ing conspiracies. And yet- those who were deepest in his 
 confidence perceived tliat he chafed at dependence, and 
 that liis heart was tliorougldy Italian. He <levoted him- 
 self to the reorganization of the Piedmontese army, which 
 had been neglecttnl by his predecessor, and little I'ied- 
 mont again wore the aspect of a militaiy kingdom. His 
 court was stiff and formal; all ease strangled by strict 
 rules of eticpiette, and all movements governed by a disci- 
 pline as mechanii'al as that which })revailc(l in tlie bar- 
 racks and on the parade-ground. Soldiers and priests 
 seemed to ])e numerically in the majority, as they were in 
 iuHuenee. Cliarles All)ert became morbidly religious, — 
 he abstained from all but tlie simplest food, he wore a 
 hair-shirt, he kei)t long fasts, he spent nuich time in i)ions 
 meditation, — -and the wily minions of the Church, l)y 
 flattery oi" int imiihition, played upon this morbid ten- 
 dency, .lesuits coiiti-ollcd education and glided into every 
 walk(tf life. Monasteries were crowded with la/y monks; 
 convents swarmed with niuis. The black frock and
 
 420 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 shovel-hat of the priest, the brown garb of the friar, the 
 starched hood or mourning veil of the sister, were met at 
 every turn. To show his devotion to Mother Church, 
 Charles Albert agreed upon a concordat with the Pope, 
 and requested that a Papal nuncio should reside at Turin ; 
 and the Pope encouraged the King in his piety by canon- 
 izing several by -gone members of the House of Savoy. 
 
 To the psychologist, few royal characters of modern 
 times offer so many interesting perplexities as this soldier- 
 hermit of Piedmont. Like Hamlet, he continually made 
 resolves, only to flinch when the moment came to execute 
 them. He was the victim of after - thoughts which 
 checked action; and his monkish asceticism aggravated 
 that nervous-gastric temperament of his which kept his 
 will in a flutter of irresolution. His sudden changes 
 were due not, as his enemies charged, to insincerity, but 
 to a diseased volition. In a moment of high spirits, he 
 excited great hopes, which he assuredly meant to fulfil; 
 then came the reaction, the chill, when the thing he had 
 promised looked black and impossible ; and he remained 
 inert. Men called him "King Shilly-Shally," "King 
 See-Saw," and they even attributed his vacillation to wil- 
 ful treachery ; but I find no more proof that he ever de- 
 liberately played false, than that he played the part of 
 waverer for seventeen years in order to veil his patriotic 
 desio^ns from Austria. He himself felt the burden of his 
 contradictory nature: "Am I not indeed an incomprehen- 
 sible man? " he said to one whom he trusted. This sense 
 of mystery, of being accompanied and opposed by a spe- 
 cial, inscrutable Fate, was at all times present to him, 
 and often inspired in him a foreboding of failure. And 
 his outward conditions corresponded in their antagonism 
 to the conflicts in his soul. " I live between the dagger 
 of the Carbonari and the chocolate of the Jesuits," — in 
 that phrase he accurately described his position, l^iit 
 there seems reason to believe that when the Jesuits dis-
 
 A DECADE OF CONTRADICTIONS. 421 
 
 covered that they could do their will with him by appeal- 
 ing to his piety, he ran no further risk of their poison, 
 although it has been hinted that at their instigation his 
 physicians gave him drugs to keep him in a chronic morbid 
 state. To the public, he seemed a man of great reserve 
 and self-control : he was very tall, and dignified almost to 
 haughtiness in his carriage ; his countenance was serious, 
 and not easily roused into vivacity; but despite this im- 
 perturbability, there was a certain charm in his manner 
 that left an impression of benevolence and candor upon 
 anyone who spoke with him.^ 
 
 In contrast with this king who "would and would not," 
 was his chief minister, Solaro della Margarita, a man 
 more Royalist than his master. Count Solaro had no 
 doubts nor hesitations ; he believed in the divine right of 
 monarchy, and his endeavor was to maintain undipped 
 the prerogatives of the Crown. To administer strictly 
 the strict paternal government, to concede nothing to 
 popidar demands, to have it understood that whatev'er 
 reforms were granted were due to the bounty and wisdom 
 of the Sovereign and not to a recognition of the right of 
 his subjects to ask for them, — these were the guiding 
 principles of Count Solaro's life; and from his uncompro- 
 mising, self-assured nature, Charles Albert's rclgn got 
 its fixed hue and its uniformity. Otlun- ministers there 
 were, like Villamarina, who favored a wider liberty, and 
 occasionally they ahnost persuaded the King to tlieir 
 views; but wlieu he talked witli liis Foreign Secretary, 
 the latter, who always had the last word, i)revailed. In 
 many respecits Piedmont iin])rove(l during this decade, 
 in spitc! of the prohibition of jjolitical discussion, and in 
 s})ite of tlie ubiipiitous and domineering ecclesiastics. A 
 uniform Civil Codt; was ])roiiiulgatcd ; in Sardinia, the 
 
 ' For ("harlfs Allx-rt si'<! I!caiin't,''.ir(l dc Costa ; Vrolnijue il'uti Ui 'inr 
 (Paris, l,S,s;)); Cappellutti ; Carlo Albrrto (Koinu, IS'.tl) ; Hroiferio, Ci- 
 brario, etc.
 
 422 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 feudal system was abolished ; commerce and industry re- 
 vived; the King patronized the fine arts, and wished to 
 make Turin a centre of culture. He was among the first 
 Italian princes to discern the importance and to encourage 
 the construction of railways ; he likewise favored infant 
 asylums and other charitable institutions, and set the 
 fashion in humane work. But since he could overrule the 
 law by his arbitrary decree, the new code proved less ben- 
 eficial than it should have proved; and in the adminis- 
 stration of justice, where political offenders were involved, 
 there was but slight regard either for equity or for law. 
 Religious intolerance showed itself in the government's 
 dealing with the Waldenses, who were forbidden to attend 
 Protestant colleges or even to remove from the now over- 
 populated valleys which had been for centuries the scene 
 of their persecution. 
 
 In his foreign relations Charles Albert preserved 
 friendliness towards Austria ; not because he was unmind- 
 ful of the hereditary ambition of his House, — an ambi- 
 tion which Austria's occupation of Northern Italy kept 
 at bay, — but because he saw no present chance of ex- 
 pelling the Austrians, and because he recognized them as 
 the conquerors of revolution. Nevertheless, on one occa- 
 sion, at least, he was on the point of looking westward for 
 an ally. In 1840 the Oriental Question stirred up so 
 much diplomatic wrath that a general war seemed immi- 
 nent. France, isolated through the blunders of her Cab- 
 inet, sought a league with Piedmont, holding out the 
 prospect of the acquisition of Lombardy, should the 
 Franco-Piedmontese army defeat the Austrians, and pre- 
 dicting that tlie Italians would rise in mass and figlit for 
 their independence as soon as the first French column 
 appeared on Mont Cenis. Austria, on the other hand, 
 represented to Charles Albert the danger of conniving 
 with the revolutionary elements in Italy, and the improb- 
 ability of the French being a match for the other Powers.
 
 A DECADE OF CONTRADICTIONS. 423 
 
 Charles Albert would have escaped from the dilemma by 
 remaining neutral, but when he was shown by both sides 
 that his neutrality would not prevent both Austrians and 
 French from invading his kingdom, in order to come to 
 close quarters, he weighed the chances, decided that the 
 odds lay with Austria, and therefore he accepted an 
 alliance with her. The war was prevented through the 
 exertions of the same diplomats who had caused the 
 alarm, and so Italians were spared the ignominy of seeing 
 the only native ruler in Italy serve as an ally of Italy's 
 inveterate oppressor.^ 
 
 Of the three rulers whose personality and administra- 
 tion I have thus sketched, the Italians had come to 
 regard only Charles Albert as a possible instrument in 
 their redemption. From the Pope and the King of 
 Naples they no longer expected any encouragement, — 
 nay, they looked forward to the removal of those despots 
 as the indis})ensable condition to success ; but Charles Al- 
 bert, despite his rigid paternalism, desj)ite his vacillation 
 and his failures to fulfil the hope centred in him, was still 
 believed by many to be available as a cham])ion of the 
 national cause. The severity of his persecution of Lib- 
 erals and his compactly organized system of rcjircssion 
 gave conspirators reason enough to ])lot against him; and 
 yet the idea was in the air that destiny })ointed to him 
 as the likeliest champion of Italy's aspirations. That 
 strange nature of his made him still, after a dozen years 
 of reign, an enigma: nevertlu'lcss, fi-om little hints 
 dro])])ed from time to time, the enthusiastic believed that 
 he was with them, Mt'U remembered sayings of his that 
 had surely a ])ati'iotic ring, and when he had a medal 
 coined, i'('])reseiitiug a Lion ciusliiiig an Kagle, with the 
 motto '"''J'dtfdiix iiion (/s/r'\" "\ await my star,' — - 
 they whispered that the Lion stooil tor Savoy and the 
 Eagle for Austria, and that the motto was prophetic of the 
 
 ' I>iunolii. iv, fhaj). '>.
 
 424 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 King's resolve. Like night-weary watchers, they hailed 
 the first dim streak as a promise of day. 
 
 In Lombardy and Venetia the conditions of the natives 
 remained almost unchanged, although at the death of 
 Emperor Francis (1835) and the accession of Ferdinand 
 they indulged in flowery hopes, which the Austrian gov- 
 ernment stimulated by festivities and pomp, as well as by 
 releasing some of the Spielberg prisoners, who were for- 
 bidden, however, to return to their homes. Metternich's 
 policy of encouraging the nobles and rich bourgeoisie in 
 a life of dissipation was persevered in, and caused Ital- 
 ians of sterner morals to deplore the consequent sapping 
 of vigor and integrity. Nevertheless, Austria's conduct 
 towards her bondsmen, in all except political matters, 
 contrasted favorably with that of every other Italian ruler 
 except the Grand Duke of Tuscany, and thereby deceived 
 foreigners who traveled through Lombardy and Venetia 
 into supposing that it was just and salutary. The Duke 
 of Modena, who employed Canosa as his chief agent, 
 held his little duchy petrified; that, at least, he could do, 
 having been forced to abandon his dream of wider tyr- 
 anny. Modena became the oracle of reaction, and Fran- 
 cis, through his newspaper. La Voce ddla Verita, was 
 the mouthpiece of the oracle, muttering warnings against 
 Liberalism and suggesting heroic remedies for the polit- 
 ical disease which threatened European autocracy. ^ It 
 was his doctrine that, in a well-regulated government, the 
 hangman should be the prime minister. 
 
 For the Liberals, Tuscany alone was an oasis amid the 
 desert. Leopold's government was paternal, but mildly 
 paternal, according to the standard of his minister, Fos- 
 sombroni, who believed that subjects can best be diverted 
 from political agitation when they are allowed to pursue 
 
 ^ He proposed, for instance, that the Czar should be subsidized to con- 
 fine in Siberia all the Italian political prisoners and suspects. Bianchi, 
 iv, 33.
 
 A DECADE OF CONTRADICTIONS. 425 
 
 their own course in social and commercial affairs. But 
 though there was no real liberty in Tuscany, and though 
 Leopold would have resisted any attempt to compel hini 
 to grant a Constitution, his actual tolerance drew upon 
 him rebukes and intimidations from Austria and repri- 
 mands from the Vatican. In 1831 he was obliged to sup- 
 press the A?itolo(/ia, in which an allusion had been made 
 to the barbarous treatment of the liussian prisoners in 
 Siberia; but he bravely refused to permit the Jesuits 
 to reestablish themselves in his domain, and he would 
 neither surrender his autocracy to Austria, nor abolish 
 the Leopoldine Code, which denied to the Church the 
 right to interfere in the concerns of the State. Equally 
 obnoxious in the eyes of his neighbors was his reform in 
 education. He broadened the curriculum of the univer- 
 sities at Pisa and Siena, and, more aggravating still, he 
 called to the professors' chairs scholars of conspicuous abil- 
 ity and Liberal tendencies; so that the students imbibed 
 patriotic ideas along with their lectures in chemistry 
 and logic. He relaxed the not over-strict censorship; 
 he patronized charitable organizations, took measures 
 for reclaiming the Maremrae, and gave refugees an asy- 
 lum. LeojK)ld illustrated, in short, the better possibil- 
 ities of Absolute monarchy, when the monarch is not 
 made resth'ss by ambition, nor cruel by fear, and when 
 his subjects are content to receive the benefits which he 
 graciously bestows, instead of fighting for ideals he will 
 not grant. Leopold wislied to be let alone ; the Tuscans 
 were thrifty and easy-going; and so Tuscany, in contrast 
 with the rest of Italy, seemed blessed with prosperity and 
 freedom. 
 
 Such were the salient characteristics of tlie decade 
 under review as tliey a])])eared to contemporaries. If it 
 were necessary to make a more minute study, we slionld 
 undoubtedly find reason to (jualify and al)at<^ some of tlie 
 oj)inions rei)orted eoneerning the men and motives of
 
 426 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 that period ; but it is our object to know what the Ital- 
 ians regarded as intolerable grievances, for those griev- 
 ances caused the struggle for independence, and they 
 could not be offset nor soothed by measures compatible 
 with autocratic government. An historian might with 
 truth declare that the American Colonists enjoyed in 
 1775 a large number of benefits from British rule; but 
 he would not accurately portray the condition of the 
 Colonists unless he stated that all those benefits could not 
 compensate for the lack of representation. Nothing but 
 that would satisfy the Americans, and it was idle for 
 Britain to expect gratitude from them for favors which 
 they spurned. The Italians, likewise, had reached a point 
 where only independence could appease them; and this 
 they craved, not merely as the realization of a fair dream, 
 but as an escape from the torments and iniquities they 
 had to endure from their worst masters, and the enervat- 
 ing restrictions from their best. 
 
 Among the significant results of this decade of diverse 
 tendencies were the formation of a copyright league by 
 all the Italian States except Naples, the negotiation of a 
 customs-union, and the establishment, at the suggestion 
 of Prince Charles Bonaparte, of an Italian Scientific 
 Conoress, which held its first session at Pisa in 1839. 
 The annual gathering of several hundred Italian men of 
 science helped to quicken the national feeling. After 
 Pisa, Turin was chosen as the meeting-place ; then Flor- 
 ence, Padua, Lucca, and Naples in turn. The Pope alone 
 refused to let the Congress assemble in his territory, and 
 forbade any of his subjects to attend it elsewhere. His 
 keen nostrils scented Jacobinism and revolution; his 
 Papal instinct recoiled from those devotees of Reason and 
 Knowledge as from a brood of scorpions. 
 
 From the world outside Italy received no material en- 
 couragement during these years. Czar Nicholas was 
 leagued with Austria; Prussia still took instructions from
 
 A DECADE OF CONTKADICTIONS. 427 
 
 Vienna; France had a Constitution with which Louis 
 Philippe phiyed battledore and shuttlecock, but so badly 
 that Europe laughed and his subjects hissed at him. 
 Only in England was Liberalism triumphant, and since 
 1832, when the English envoy, Seymour, had declined to 
 guarantee the temporal sovereignty of the Pope, Eng- 
 land's sympathy was in the main on the side of the 
 opi)ressed Italians; but sympathy unseconded by official 
 support brought them no improvement. The exiles plot- 
 ted and chafed. Mazzini from London discharged Young 
 Italy's shafts. The revolutionary committees in Paris 
 deliberated; refugees perched along the Swiss frontiers 
 and were ready at the first favorable signal to swoop 
 down into Lombardy. It would be superfluous to enu- 
 merate the abortive plans and pricked bubbles of insur- 
 rection, or to mention all the smaller sects, — such as 
 the Tyranni(;ides, the Demonulatri or Devil-worshipers, 
 which existed or were alleged to exist ; or to describe the 
 guerrilla warfare which the Sanfedists and other parti- 
 sans of Absolutism waged against them. It was a world 
 in transition, — a time of cross-tides and contradictions. 
 Despots like the Pope and the King of Na})les were con- 
 centrating, as in a sac of venom, all that made the Old 
 Kegime abliorred. Despots like Cliarlcs Albert and tlie 
 (irand Duke of Tuscany, under the influence of the New 
 Spirit, were unconsciously veering from tlie Past and 
 drifting away from the abyss. Only Metternich was im- 
 movable, deeming himself su])erior to wind or wave. 
 You know his policy at ai\v moment; that was tlie one 
 fixtun; amid the eddies of change. Austria must ])re- 
 (lominate in Italy, — -that was his riding idea. Not only 
 did he keep shi-ewd (liphtniafs at each of the little Courts 
 and pension a hordi,' ot spies, l)ut he also subsidized some 
 member of each of tlie cal)inets, — Lascarena at Turin, 
 the Prince of Cassano at Naples, — not to speak of tliosi' 
 cardinals who were his sei-vants in the Sacred Collc"-e at
 
 428 THE DAWN OP ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Rome. When an emergency arose, he employed still 
 baser arts. In 1836, for instance, believing that his in- 
 formation from Naples was incomplete, he dispatched his 
 agent Smucker thither, and Smucker soon became the 
 paramour of the Queen - Dowager, a woman of loose 
 morals, and learned through her the royal secrets, which 
 he duly reported to the Chancellor. ^ Greedy Austria's 
 spoon was in every broth. The Grand Duke of Tuscany 
 had no heir, and he was informed that at his death Aus- 
 tria would appropriate Tuscany ; fortunately for his am- 
 bition, however, his wife died, and he married another, 
 who bore him a son.^ Again, when it was rumored that 
 Charles Louis of Lucca had turned Protestant, Metter- 
 nich proposed to disinherit him and to absorb Lucca; 
 but Charles Louis gave sufficient proof of his orthodoxy 
 to frustrate this scheme.^ In spite of casual opposition, 
 Metternich was still master in Italy, and he deemed him- 
 self arbiter of Europe. He alone, among all the poli- 
 ticians of the century, could have said, — as he did say 
 to the Piedmontese minister in 1842, — "I have the good 
 fortune to foresee everything, to foretell everything, to 
 bring a sound judgment to bear upon the whole future."^ 
 Other self-satisfied professors of statecraft may have 
 thought this about themselves, but modesty or a sense of 
 humor kept them from uttering it. 
 
 1 Bianchi, iii, 280. 2 jn^^ [^^ ^.jq, 
 
 » Poggi, ii, 219. * Bianchi, iv, 99.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE POLITICAL REFORMERS. 
 
 Thrift is a principle rooted in the heart of the Uni- 
 verse : in human affairs we see its working in those reac- 
 tions when society turns back to glean the last straws of 
 an institution which has already had its harvest. Pro- 
 gress is not a straight line joining the New with the Old, 
 but a diagonal, the resultant of the effort of conservatives 
 to hold society back and of radicals to drive it ahead. 
 The Present zigzags between the Past and the Future. 
 Thus the French Revolution aspired, as we have so often 
 repeated, to break wholly from the Past, and to begin life 
 with a new heaven above and a new earth beneath; as 
 Noah, when the Deluge subsided, looked upon a world 
 unprejudiced by any yesterdays. Feudalism, Monarchy, 
 orthodox Religion, — these were declared abolished by 
 the dare-all revolutionists. But soon it appeared that to 
 blot out institutions which are the inveterate habits of 
 society, society itself must be blotted out, — and that was 
 a task too vast for even the guillotine. True reform was 
 seen to be transformation, — a slow process, but the only 
 sure one, by which the hateful institution is gradually 
 sloughed off", and a better grows in its ])lace. So the 
 mad onset of the revolution was followed by a pause, 
 when the inertia of tlie Past checked advance, and then 
 reaction set in. Monarcliy and feudal survivals again 
 dominat<'d Euro])e. But tlie revolution, though chcckiMl, 
 was not spent: it rallied in turn, this tuno, with less dash 
 but more ])ersisten('e, and gained inch by inch on its an- 
 tagonist. The nrvolution of 1H;50 and tlie .luly monarcliy 
 marked, as we saw, the turn of the jiolitical tide.
 
 430 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Meanwhile a similar conflict was in progress between 
 the champions and opponents of religious orthodoxy. 
 Catholicism and Protestantism were alike on the defen- 
 sive ; for rationalists had everywhere proclaimed that the 
 old creeds based on supernaturalism had served their pur- 
 pose, had ceased to be spiritual, and must forthwith be 
 abandoned as inadequate to the soul's true needs. Espe- 
 cially did they assert this of Catholicism, whose mediaeval 
 ceremonies and dogmas most offended an age which de- 
 clared liberty of conscience to be every man's right, and 
 which was beginning to substitute historical comparison 
 and criticism for blind faith and theological command in 
 matters relijrious. But frug^al Providence never throws 
 away an institution which has not exhausted every poten- 
 tiality latent within it: and now there was a Catholic 
 revival. Sensitive minds looked again into Catholicism, 
 and reported what they saw. Some of its apologists, like 
 Chateaubriand and Lamartine, were sentimental, and 
 painted with poetic fervor the sweet and admirable qual- 
 ities of the venerable Church; some, like De Maistre, 
 would yield nothing to her assailants, but restated boldly, 
 in language that the time could understand, the prepos- 
 terous dogmas on which she rested ; some, like Lamennais 
 and Lacordaire, assigning second rank to dogma, magni- 
 fied ethics, and showed how she might be the chief up- 
 lifter of conduct; some, like DoUinger, with critical knife 
 cut away the overgrowth of fungi and rank vines which 
 choked her, and revealed the original Tree of Faith in its 
 simplicity; some, like Newman and his disciples, were 
 drawn to her because they craved a religious authority 
 upon which their bewildered souls might repose. 
 
 This revival, to which liistoriaiis have hitherto given 
 less attention than its interest and importance as a gen- 
 eral religious movement merits, had its supporters in 
 Italy also, and it might seem strange that the ablest of 
 them were unattached to the hierarchy, did we not re-
 
 THE POLITICAL REFOKMEUS. 431 
 
 member that for a long time past no vital spiritual word 
 hatl been uttered by pope, cardinal, or prelate. It was 
 from laymen, and from Churchmen whom the Inquisition 
 suspected of heresy, that the impulse came to make Ca- 
 tholicism once more a dominant religious force among 
 the Italians. liosmini (1797-1855), a profound thinker, 
 erected a vast philosophical temple in which to celebrate 
 the marriage of Scholastic Theology and Modern Meta- 
 physics, — a union of incompatibles from which no last- 
 ing concord could be predicted. But whatever may be 
 the ultimate value of Kosmini's philosophy, he i)ersuaded 
 some of the elect of his countrymen of its truth, and he 
 forged for them weapons by which they could repel their 
 own doubts concerning the incomprehensible mysteries of 
 Catholicism. Manzoni was his lifelong friend if not his 
 disciple, and Manzoni, as we saw, was a devout Catholic. 
 Silvio Pellico, released from the Spielberg in 1830, had 
 jmblished his book, '"My Prisons," wliicli first apprised 
 the world of Austria's savage treatment of political of- 
 fenders, and wliicli also (lis})layed Pellico's broken spirit 
 nestling in pious resignatif)n on th(! dogmas of the Church. 
 Balbo, Tommaseo, and many others tliere were wlio be- 
 lieved that Italy's regeneration could best be effected by 
 reviving the spiritual forces at the heart of Catholicism. 
 "On the ruins of sophistry," savs Cautii, "was erected 
 the world of science and truth; we ceased to be ashamed 
 to say the .brand the Do profundi. •<^ and not only women 
 attended mass; a generation seemed preparing which, 
 respecting 'the holy o])scurities of faith, should bt> char- 
 acterized by her, as the preceding generation by incre- 
 dulity.'"^ The adovcates of these views came to be 
 known as Xeo-(iuelfs; they were, to (jiiote ('aiitu again, 
 "religious democrats, not conspirators, hut still less coui-- 
 tiers, for whom the liberty of It ily was a moial ([ucs- 
 tion. ' Do you complain that foreign (loniinatiou corrupts 
 
 ' Cronislon'ii. ii. t'^'.l.
 
 432 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 you?' they asked of their countrymen. 'He alone be- 
 comes corrupt who allows himself to be corrupted.' "^ 
 
 But in Italy all questions were drawn into the orbit of 
 politics, and presently, early in 1843, there appeared a 
 book, "On the Moral and Civil Primacy of the Italians," 
 that was hailed by the Neo-Guelfs as their confession of 
 faith, and that surpassed in immediate influence any other 
 political work ever written in Italian. Its author was 
 Vincent Gioberti, who, banished from Piedmont in 1833, 
 had spent his exile chiefly at Brussels, earning his bread 
 by teaching in a small college, and devoting his leisure 
 to the acquisition of multifarious knowledge and to the 
 publication at rapid intervals of thick treatises on many 
 subjects. He was a philosopher, a theologian, a social re- 
 former, and above all a patriot. To fuse all his learning 
 and energy into a work which should benefit his country, 
 — that was his highest ideal, his constant desire, which 
 he realized in his book, "On the Primacy." 
 
 Reading that work now, after a lapse of fifty years, 
 during which the problems it discussed have been solved, 
 and the generation it addressed has passed away, it re- 
 quires an effort of the imagination to conjure back a 
 frame of mind similar to that upon which Gioberti 's pro- 
 lix rhetoric and vague suggestions fell with the majesty 
 and splendor of Eternal Truth. As old love-letters read 
 by a stranger have no longer the glow, the enchantment, 
 whereby they once thrilled one heart, so there are epoch- 
 making books from which a nation at a particular crisis 
 extracts all the pith and juice, — say rather it literally 
 devours them, — and leaves only their rind for posterity. 
 To this class Gioberti's "Primacy" belongs; it is a relic 
 of great historic interest, but unlike Demosthenes 's 
 "Orations," or Pascal's "Lettres Provinciales, " or 
 Burke's "Reflections," it lacks those qualities which 
 insure permanence among the masterpieces of political 
 
 ^ C'ronistoria. ii, ()57.
 
 THE POLITICAL REFORMERS. 433 
 
 thought. But this does not detract from its importance 
 as a symptom and landmark, nor make it any less truly 
 one of the most opportune books ever published. 
 
 Even in choosing a title, Gioberti showed his daring. 
 At a time when the Italians were in bondage to native and 
 foreign tyrants, when they had not for centuries enjoyed 
 any genuine civic life, when foreigners believed them to 
 be debased and flaccid beyond hope of regeneration, when 
 their own moralists reproached and strangers taunted 
 them, when to recall their glorious Past was to accuse 
 their shameful Present, Gioberti boldly announced to 
 them, like a Hebrew prophet to the Jews in their deca- 
 dence, "Behold, ye are the chosen people ! " He scoured 
 the records of history, science, religion, literature, and 
 art for facts to support his thesis, and when these failed, 
 his vivid imagination supplied ready assumptions. Very 
 plausibly did he show how the Pclasgians, Etruscans, 
 and Komans, and all the earlier races in Italy, had been 
 agents in the hands of Providence to prepare for the 
 coming of the modern Italians, — the consummate ])ro(luct 
 of the "Ilindo-Germanic" stock. Twice already had 
 this chosen people held the primacy of the world : once 
 politically, when the Roman Empire was supreme, and 
 once religiously, through the Catholic Church ; and it 
 still contained all the elements necessary to a third and 
 greater supremacy. The forces were latent, not dead ; 
 tlie ground was fallow, and needed only to be tilhul and 
 planted. For Italy's inlieritance of genius could not 
 })erish, thougli it might lie dormant, for more than one 
 generation. The bed-rock of all civilization is religion ; 
 Italy possessed the Catliolic religion, the only true one, 
 and she had, tlierefore, the indisjjensable corner-stone of 
 civilization. In the past, her greatness had coincided 
 witli th(Minion of Church and State; slie began to(leelin«> 
 wh(^n the (ihibellines in i)()lities and tlie Xoniinalists in 
 philosophy sowed their errors among the Guelfs, who
 
 434 THE DAWN OP ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 were Realists. To restore the Papacy to its former 
 eminence was, therefore, the sure and simplest way of 
 lifting the Italians to their commanding place among the 
 nations. 
 
 But how was this to be done, in view of the actual 
 feebleness of the Papal government, and of the division 
 of the Peninsula among half-a-dozen petty sovereigns? 
 Let the princes form a federation with the Pope as its 
 president; then all might live peacefully together, like 
 brothers under the care of an all-wise and a benign 
 father. The absolute authority by which those princes 
 ruled was in itself advantageous to the scheme; for 
 surely, five or six individuals could be brought more 
 easily to consent to what their duty and interest advised, 
 than could a majority of their subjects, if they were 
 allowed to choose. The unification of Italy might indeed 
 be a delightful ideal, but it was an abstraction, whereas 
 the plan of federation was concrete, real, and above all 
 feasible. 
 
 This is the germ of Gioberti's "Primacy," its one 
 definite and positive suggestion, wrapped about with dis- 
 quisitions upon theology, histor}^, and politics, from each 
 of which he drew illustrations to confirm his position. 
 Perhaps no other revolutionary treatise has so unrevolu- 
 tionary, so meek and conciliatory an appearance as this. 
 You might read it and never suspect that it was more 
 than an extravagant eulogy on the very system and men 
 that had degraded Italy, and kept her degraded. For 
 the ingenious Gioberti takes care always to praise in 
 particulars and to condemn in generals. If, for instance, 
 he speaks of the Jesuits, it is to commend their vigor 
 and devotion, — in Paraguay; he does not attack the 
 Jesuits by name for the evils they cause in Italy; he 
 merely deplores in general terms the pernicious effects 
 that spring from clerical intrigues and unscrupulousness. 
 Again, he extols the ideal monasticism as dreamed by
 
 THE POLITICAL REFORMERS. 435 
 
 St. Benedict and St. Francis, only allowing himself to 
 remark that should monks ever be lazy, ignorant, and 
 dissolute, they ought to be severely corrected. And, 
 since absolute wickedness is as rare as perfection, Gio- 
 berti finds traits in the nobility, the priesthood, the peo- 
 ple, and the princes that he can honestly approve. He 
 rarely hazards concrete advice : rulers ought to love their 
 subjects, and subjects their rulers; freedom of speech is 
 wholesome, but a liberal censorship is also wholesome, — 
 these are specimens of his non-committal method. Only 
 against violent revolution and the fretfulness of exiles 
 does he speak in censure ; yet he has kind words for their 
 intentions. In short, the "Primacy " is a work so subtle ^ 
 that the ablest casuist in the Company of Jesus miglit be 
 proud to say he wrote it ; it was certainly not by accident 
 that the Jesuits immediately detected its hidden purpose 
 and proceeded to assail (iioberti at a time when other 
 orthodox Catholics were rejoicing that they had won over 
 so valiant a chami)ion. 
 
 A significant parallel might be drawn between Gio- 
 berti's "Primacy" and Dante's treatise "On Monarchy." 
 Gioberti's book proved to be a funeral oration on the 
 temporal Papacy, and, as is proper in such effusions, it 
 abounded in praises of the dead ; Dante, on the other 
 hand, eulogized the Holy Koman Empire, and declared 
 that through it alone could ])eao(^ and harmony be re- 
 stored to Italy; and even as lie wrote the ])ower of the 
 German emperor ceased in Italy. Yet both Dante and 
 (iioberti demonstrated by history and religion: the one 
 that the Em])eror, the other tliat the Pojx', had been pre- 
 destined by (lod to bring redemption to Italy. 
 
 (iiohcrti's book, i)ublished at lirussels in rlune, 1843, 
 soon made its way into Italy; for what rider would be so 
 
 ' The aiilitlcfy w:us intcntiDual ; see. for iiistatirf. Gidbcrti's letter to 
 Mamiani (jnotcd in V. (i."s skctcli of (Jioberti, No. 47 of the series, / Con- 
 temjtoraiui lUiUani (Turin, 1S<>-), ")t'>-7.
 
 436 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 harsh as to forbid his subjects to read what was clearly a 
 panegyric on himself? Would the Pope, whose temporal 
 sovereignty was so eloquently defended? Would Charles 
 Albert, who was hailed as the right arm of the patriotic 
 cause? Would Leopold, of whose mild paternal gov- 
 ernment the "Primacy" might be considered a eulogy? 
 Would Ferdinand of Naples, who was placated by Gio- 
 berti's rebuke to conspirators? Even the Austrian fron- 
 tiersmen let the book pass into Lorabardy and Venice, 
 until officials with keener scent perceived that, like a rose 
 sprinkled with poison, that fair-seeming volume concealed 
 revolution among its leaves. But even where it was pro- 
 hibited, the "Primacy" was surreptitiously circulated; 
 all educated Italians read it, discussed it, were thrilled 
 by it, — the clerical class most of all. To have their 
 manifest destiny pointed out in language so rich and so 
 persuasive, to have obstacles so deftly smoothed away and 
 the achievement of their desires described as so easy, to 
 have their noble qualities trumpeted, and their defects 
 hushed, made the book irresistible. Criticism might pick 
 many flaws in the arguments and cite many misstatements 
 of facts ; but Gioberti addressed the emotions and not the 
 reason; he was a special pleader, skilled in eveiy art by 
 which a jury can be captivated. The very vagueness with 
 which he suggested the means, the very clearness with 
 which he affirmed that the end was attainable, disarmed 
 opposition. Each reader, applying the eulogistic passages 
 to himself and the general censures to his neighbor, ex- 
 claimed, "How wdse and virtuous this Gioberti is! He 
 agrees with me at almost every point I " 
 
 The Neo-Chielfs, who had begun to turn their eyes 
 towards the Papacy as the one poAver that might guide 
 Italy to independence, quickly adopted Gioberti's "Pri- 
 macy " as their gospel. The Piedmontese, believing in 
 the liigh mission of their dynasty, likewise cherished it 
 because it justified their secret hopes. More than this,
 
 THE POLITICAL REFORMERS. 437 
 
 there was forming in every part of Italy a body of Lib- 
 erals, determined but reasonable, who insisted that it was 
 time to have done with the conspiracies and violence, 
 which, as the experience of nearly thirty years had shown, 
 only exasperated the princes, sacrificed many lives, caused 
 patriotic motives to be confounded with criminal or 
 selfish ambitions, and perpetuated local and factional 
 discords. Thus the Moderate Party, representing the 
 common-sense and sober second thought of Italy, was also 
 attracted by Gioberti's glowing yet temperate words, 
 which prophesied the new era of unity, liberty, and inde- 
 pendence, — blessings which, as he had artfully demon- 
 strated, could be had, " without wars, without revolutions, 
 without offending any public or private right; that is, 
 the first two by means of a confederation of the various 
 States under the Presidency of the Pope, and the last by 
 means of the internal reforms of each province, feasible 
 by their respective princes, without imperiling or dimin- 
 ishing their own power. "^ 
 
 Gioberti's scheme, therefore, being the first in the field, 
 was hailed on many sides with applause, altliough no one 
 deemed Gregory XVI the pope to seize the glorious 
 opportunity for making himself immortal and his country- 
 men happy ; ^ but fortunately he was now old, and his 
 successor n)ight soon liave the chance which he neglected. 
 Meanwhile, "Confederation " and "Tlu^ Pontiff for Presi- 
 dent" were the mottoes of tlie Neo-Ciuelfs and of a major- 
 ity of the Moderates. 
 
 But books beget books, and within less than a year 
 after the publication of the " Primacy, " Count Ca'sar 
 Balbo, a Piedniontcse n()l)le of unusual scholarly attain- 
 UK'uts, brouglit out a treatise on "The Hopes of Italy." 
 
 1 Giob.Tti : I'rimfilo (Vfiiico. ISIS), i, '2(V2. 
 
 - '' I would Rnl)sorihf ciitiri-ly to your I'rinuiri/." \vroto Borsicri to Gio- 
 bcrti, " if it were possilili' for oncf for you to liccoiin! jjopt', and for me to 
 be, unwortliily, your secntary of stuto." V. G. 58.
 
 438 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Balbo was Gioberti's counterpart; he addressed the judg- 
 ment rather than the emotions. "This is eloquent," you 
 exclaim, at the best of Gioberti's outbursts; "This is 
 sensible," you can say of Balbo 's work throughout. 
 Gioberti had prudently refrained from taking up the 
 question of Austria's domination in Italy; only, by his 
 very silence and by his dedication of the "Primacy" to 
 Pellico he gave a clue to inference. Balbo, on the other 
 hand, boldly announced that Italy's most pressing need 
 was independence, and he proceeded to discuss the possi- 
 ble means by which she might free herself from Austria. 
 No confederation, he said, could be effectual, so long as 
 each of its princely members were the tool of Austria. 
 Why talk of Papal primacy, he asked, when the Pope 
 himseK is hampered and directed by Metternich? He 
 dismissed as abhorrent the suggestion that the entire 
 Peninsula might be united into one Austrian kingdom ; 
 he dismissed also the proposition that a group of little 
 republics, or that one large republic, — the Mazzinian 
 scheme, — might be established ; he admitted that a con- 
 federation was, at the moment, the most rational plan, 
 but since this could be achieved only through indepen- 
 dence, he urged that Italians ought to devote all their 
 energy to solving that problem. He offered four possible 
 solutions : — first, the Italian princes might unite and 
 repel the Austrians, — but this would be more improbable 
 than that they should form a federation; second, there 
 might be a national uprising, — but could twenty -three 
 millions of people be brought more easily than six princes 
 into concord? Third, a foreign Power might be induced 
 to espouse the Italian cause, — but the only Power likely 
 to be so induced was France, and what would be the gain 
 of exchanging Austrian for French despotism? Finally, 
 international complications might arise, during which 
 Italians might seize a favorable moment for winning their 
 independence. Of such complications, three were previsi-
 
 THE POLITICAL UEFORMEKS. 439 
 
 ble, — a general democratic conflagration and an attempt 
 at universal monarchy, both of which Balbo declared to 
 be equally improbable, or a partition of States, which, 
 he thought, was both possible and imminent. For the 
 Ottoman Empire was fast falling asunder, and before 
 long Europe would step in to divide the property of the 
 Sick Man at Constantinople; in this division, it would 
 plainly be for Austria's interest to strengthen her posi- 
 tion on the Danube and to extend her dominion over the 
 Balkan provinces, — acquisitions which would more than 
 compensate her for voluntarily giving up Lombardy and 
 Venetia, and withdrawing her influence from the rest of 
 the Italian Peninsida. 
 
 Balbo, we see, had something more definite and more 
 practical than Gioberti's iridescent scheme. lie did not 
 deceive himself into supposing that it was sufficient to 
 describe to Pope, Princes, and People the millennium they 
 might bring to pass by merely agreeing to love each other. 
 Gioberti's message, reduced to lowest terms, was, "Be 
 virtuous and you will be happy;" but this maxim, like 
 many another ecpially true, was too vague, and suscepti- 
 ble of too many interpretations, to be generally servicea- 
 ble. Balbo took Iniman nature and the EurojHuin political 
 condition into account; he deemed it more imj^ortant to 
 try to see things as they were rather than to glorify the 
 past or to predict primacy for the Italians in the future. 
 And so his book, also, had a deej) effect on his country- 
 men, and acted as a corrective and clieck to the too ex- 
 travagant ex])e(*tations kindled l)y (iioberti's entlmsi- 
 asm. "The lIo])es of Italy," although denied a license in 
 Piedmont, issued from a foreign press, and was sold with 
 the tacit knowledge of the goveniiiient in most parts of 
 the Peninsula; (^harles All)ert, while officially ])r()liil)it- 
 injT the book, allowed its author to live unmolested at 
 Turin. Such tolerance had i)eeu unknown for thirty 
 years.
 
 440 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 These two books had in some measure to serve the 
 purpose which, in free countries, is served by the press, 
 public discussion, and representative legislatures. They 
 seemed, indeed, but slim wedges to drive into that huge 
 trunk of injustice and corruption whose branches, like the 
 fabled upas-tree, shed a black shadow of ignorance and 
 a pestilence over Italy. But the first wedge is the most 
 imjjortant, and a book is a seed from which a revolution 
 or a new religion may grow. The soil on which Gioberti 
 and Balbo sowed was quick ; they had not long to wait, 
 therefore, to see their ideas take root. 
 
 Meanwhile, the party of action was not idle. Mazzini, 
 also, had been flinging his doctrines broadcast, and was 
 preparing to garner his crops. We saw how his influence 
 stirred the Sicilian revolters during the terrible cholera 
 year. Thereafter his emissaries made the Kingdom of the 
 Two Sicilies the special field of their intrigues. No sea- 
 son passed without some abortive uprising. At Aquila, 
 in 1841, the conspirators were accused of assassinating 
 Colonel Tanf ano ; a hundred and fifty of them were ar- 
 rested, many of whom were condemned to the scaffold or 
 the galleys. The next year, all was ready for a simulta- 
 neous revolt in Naples and the Papal States. Mazzini's 
 agitators swooped from their eyrie at Malta, to alight 
 among the malecontents in the Abruzzi and Romagna; 
 exiles who had fought in the Carlist campaign, in Spain, 
 were eager to return to their native land, and to teach 
 their countrymen how to manage a guerrilla warfare ; the 
 Central Committee at Paris levied assessments on its 
 members to equip the fighters ; and all the while Mazzini 
 from London showered exhortations, warnings, and com- 
 mands. An "Italian Legion," whose purpose was sim- 
 ilar to that of Young Italy, — if indeed it was not an 
 offshoot of that sect, — was organized, and its leaders, 
 Ribotti and Fabrizi, glided up and down the Peninsula 
 to beat up recruits. But, despite these formidable prepa-
 
 THE POLITICAL REFORMERS. 441 
 
 rations, the year 1842 passed inactive, and 1843 was 
 more than half spent when the police took the precau- 
 tion, July 31, of arresting above a hundred suspects in 
 the province of Salerno. A week or two later, alarm- 
 ing symptoms broke out in the Legations. At Ravenna, 
 Cardinal Amat, a mild and comparatively just man, 
 allayed the excitement by giving passports to a few of 
 the alleged leaders; but at Bologna, where Cardinal Spi- 
 nola, a legate of the retrograde brood, governed, greater 
 severity bred more ominous tumults. Three bands of 
 guerrillas tramped through the Legations, venturing 
 occasionally into the towns and then escaping to the 
 Apennines, but without being able to provoke a general 
 insurrection. At length, after six weeks of confusion 
 and fruitless anxiety. Cardinal Spinola authorized Freddi, 
 Fontana, and other servile minions, to conduct a military 
 tribimal ; and they, by wholesale arrests and condemna- 
 tions, in a short time restored order. 
 
 Mazzini, not sobered by this failure, planned another 
 attempt in 1844. lie adopted the same tactics: the 
 Neapolitans were assured that the Komagnoles were on 
 tiptoe to rebel as soon as word should come to them that 
 the Neapolitans were up ; the Komagnoles were urged to 
 enuilate their Neapolitan brothers, who waited but for a 
 sign from them. But at the first rip])le of restlessness in 
 Calabria, th(! governinent arrested twenty-one sus]:)ects, 
 seven of whom were suinmaril}' shot and tlie rest sent to 
 thti galleys; wliih^ Dclcarretto, for greater security, im- 
 ])risoned on susjjicion tlie most ])r<)iiiinent IjibcrMls in 
 Na])l<'S. This rel)ufF only exaspci-atcd the chief cons])ir- 
 ators, wlio wove their i)lots in safety in Paiis and Lon- 
 don, to a mor(! vigorous effort. They decreed that the 
 mighty insurrection should astonisli tlie world and rid 
 Italy of lier des])ots (hiring the month of May. A tlioii- 
 sand volunteers were to fly over sea from Corsica; Malta 
 was to contribute her (juota of banished patriots; the
 
 442 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Spanish allies had promised their aid ; the Ticinese were 
 to descend upon Lombardy and Piedmont, where the 
 populations were as tinder, needing but one spark to 
 ignite them. In his imagination, Mazzini already saw the 
 fires of Liberty engirdling his beloved land; he already 
 saw the purifying flames sweep from north to south, 
 reducing thrones and principalities to ashes, through 
 which the tender blades of the Republic already pierced. 
 But he did not see that at his very elbow was a traitor, 
 Partesotti, who duly reported to Prince Metternich the 
 glowing hopes and careful arrangements of the Great 
 Conspirator; nor did he learn until too late that his let- 
 ters were opened by the British Postmaster-General, and 
 that their contents were comuninicated to the govern- 
 ments against whom Mazzini was plotting. 
 
 Unfortunately, these delusive expectations seemed facts 
 to many fervent minds, among others to Attilio and 
 Emilio Bandiera and to Domenico Moro, three young 
 Venetian officers in the Austrian navy. The Bandiera 
 were sons of that admiral who, in 1831, had captured 
 the ship on which the refugees set sail from Ancona and 
 had brought them to Venice. But the sons, fired by 
 patriotism and Mazzini's appeals, yearned to show their 
 love for Italy. They proposed to seize an Austrian fri- 
 gate, — which they believed might easily be done, since 
 the Austrian marine was manned chiefly by Venetians, — ■ 
 and sail into the port of Messina, where, they were told, 
 the Sicilians were ripe for rebellion. But failing to 
 incite a mutiny, the two brothers and Moro deserted from 
 the Austrian service and met at Corfu. There they soon 
 gathered a little band with which to cross the Adriatic 
 and begin the glorious war of redemption. The Bandiera 
 scorned the offers of pardon and reinstatement that Aus- 
 tria made to them through their mother; they resisted 
 her entreaties ; they heeded only the seductive letters of 
 Mazzini, and the reports which emissaries spread, and cas-
 
 THE POLITICAL KEFORMERS. 443 
 
 ual sea captains confirmed, that the Neapolitan and Papal 
 masses were but waiting for a leader. Mazzini declared 
 afterwards that he tried to dissuade the generous youths, 
 but they wrote to him that it was necessary that the few 
 who were born to martyrdom should i)lunge into the vor- 
 tex of even a foolhardy attempt in the hope of drawing 
 the wavering and timid after them.^ At length, brook- 
 ing no more delay, they and their comrades, twenty in 
 all, set sail from Corfu on the night of June 12-13, 
 1844, and landed three evenings later (June 16) near the 
 mouth of liiver Neto, in Calabria. A peasant under- 
 took to guide them to Cosenza, about forty miles inland, 
 where they intended to liberate a large batch of political 
 prisoners and to fire the revolutionary train. For three 
 days they wandered among the wooded Calabrian moun- 
 tains; then, as they halted in a ravine near S. Giovanni 
 in Fiore, they were surrounded and attacked by Royalist 
 troops. After a brief skirmisli, in which two of them 
 were killed, they were forced to surrender ; and then they 
 learned that Boccaciampe, who had lagged behind on a 
 previous day under the pretense of weariness, had has- 
 tened to Cotrone, betrayed them to the police, and 
 brought them to this disaster. They were tried at Cosenza 
 and condemned to death, but, as was the habit with the 
 Bourbon government, only nine of them — half the num- 
 ber of captives — were executed. Early on the morning 
 of July 25 they were led to execution. They went sing- 
 ing the patriotic song, 
 
 " ("hi per la patria muore, 
 Ila <^\h, vissuto assai," '" 
 
 and conscious heroism was in tlicir gait and on their coun- 
 tenances, as they passed thi'ough the lieavy-hearted 
 
 1 Nisco : F>nli,uin(l» II. U-iWi. of 1SS4), (^8. 
 ^ He wlio for liis country dies, 
 Has yet lived long' eiiou(^h.
 
 444 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 crowd, which did not dare to show its sympathy for 
 them. Ranged in line, they shouted, "Long live Italy! " 
 and awaited the death-volley. When the smoke cleared, 
 only one of them, Lupatelli, remained standing: "Fire 
 again ! " he cried to the soldiery, and a moment later he, 
 too, fell. 
 
 Thus was quenched, as if it had been a penny taper, 
 that torch of heroism wherewith the Bandiera brothers 
 thought to kindle Mazzini's noble conflagration. Nine 
 corpses huddled into a grave ; eight living bodies cast into 
 a Bourbon dungeon, there to rot slowly; the traitor Boc- 
 caciampe alone to escape, — such the pitiful but inevita- 
 ble ending to such an exploit. And yet from that grave 
 there exhaled a light of glory. All Italy had followed 
 the prisoners during their trial, had hoped for their re- 
 prieve, had been moved to admiration by the courage with 
 which they had at last faced the muzzles of their execu- 
 tioners. Even their defense before the tribunal — they 
 declared that they had hoped the King would wink at 
 their expedition and put himself at their head in a war of 
 independence — was not cited to tarnish their memory. 
 Ferdinand became more than ever execrable, — had he 
 not willingly played the executioner for Austria ? — and 
 thereafter no sane man believed that he could be enticed, 
 for the sake of dynastic ambition, to ally himself with the 
 Liberals. But Mazzini also, and those other promoters 
 of insurrection, who from their own safe shelter spurred 
 impetuous and brave youths on to perdition, were bitterly 
 condemned by that growing body of Moderates, who had 
 come to see that conspiracy was inadequate and therefore 
 harmful. Mazzini tried to exculpate himself by writing 
 an account of his dealings with the Bandiera,^ but he did 
 not abandon his revolutionary apostolate; on the con- 
 trary, he assailed the Moderates as lukewarm time-serv- 
 ers, and he inveighed agairst them as the worst enemies 
 1 Mazzini, iii, 262-324.
 
 THE POLITICAL REFORMERS. 445 
 
 of Italy. In his great scheme, a few failures meant no- 
 thing ; the blood of martyrs would but sanctify the cause ; 
 examples of devotion were needed, — victims to tyranny 
 who should make tyranny odious; proofs to the Italians 
 that they were engaged in no holiday revel, but in the 
 sternest and noblest of undertakings. Idealist that he 
 was, he listened unmoved to critics who accused him of 
 wilfully neglecting to reckon with human nature. " You 
 set up a sordid and selfish standard," he replied, "and 
 you call that human nature. But all reforms have been 
 wrought by men who believed that mankind, at their 
 worst, are meliorable to an unknown degree. Calculate 
 only on selfishness, and only selfishness responds; ap])eal 
 to the best instincts, and these leap forth invincil)le." 
 So Mazzini held fast to his trust in the virtue of the 
 masses, and in tlie efficacy of his methods for rousing 
 that virtue. Few reformers have been great enough to 
 resist the pride which is born of a strong intellect, — the 
 pride which persuades them that they are indisi)ensable, 
 if not infallible; and we may in part attribute Mazzini's 
 stubbornness to this desire to appear to himself and to 
 others as one that could not be wrong. Such self-conii- 
 dence is the badge of all fanatics, — whether of those who 
 succeed, and are called benefactors of the race, or of those 
 who fail, and are called visionaries or blunderers. 
 
 The putlietic fate of the Bandiera and tlieir few com- 
 rades had, therefore, the effect of opening many eyes to 
 the futility of conspiracy, without causing the eonsijiring 
 leaders to relax their propagandism. From London, 
 Paris, and Malta, their agents sped shuttlewise through 
 the Peninsula to weave a new wel) of revolution. Heark- 
 ening to them, tlie republican convert imagined that, 
 although lie could count but few confederates in liis own 
 district, all tlu; rest of the country was swarming with 
 them; as would be })rove(l (o him when the signal for the 
 general insurrection should l)e firctl. To the Moderates
 
 446 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 this procedure seemed cowardly and fraudulent; but 
 there is no more evidence that the incendiary leaders held 
 themselves aloof from danger out of cowardly or deceitful 
 motives, than that the zealous directors of the Board of 
 Foreign Missions, who, from their comfortable quarters 
 in London or New York, send out young missionaries for 
 cannibals or jungle fever to devour, have any other than 
 the most pious intent. Indeed, what surer proof of self- 
 abnegation can you give than this, — that you step back 
 and allow your comrade to win martyrdom and glory at 
 the cannibal's or the cannon's mouth in a cause which you 
 esteem more precious than fine gold, or than life itself? 
 And would not that commander-in-chief be deemed cul- 
 pable, who should risk his person in the front file of his 
 army ? 
 
 The fusillade at Cosenza caused the conspirators to 
 reflect and to apologize, but it did not make all of them 
 prudent. Against the States of the Church and Naples 
 the sects redoubled their machinations, hoping to secure 
 from the Pope reforms which Austria would not veto, and 
 to hasten in Ferdinand's kingdom a revolution which 
 France and England would allow to take its course. But 
 Ferdinand was too vigilant, and the attempts against his 
 tyranny failed; whereas, in the Papal States, and espe- 
 cially in the Legations, a faction of the conspirators kept 
 up so active an agitation that the Holy Father resorted to 
 his favorite instrument — a Military Commission — for 
 suppressing it. At Bologna, it speedily condemned a few 
 suspects; and then passed on to Forli, where, however, 
 the new legate, Cardinal Gizzi, would not appeal to it. 
 At Ravenna, Cardinal Massimo, a prelate who made 
 rigor his watchword, availed himself of the Commission's 
 willingness to chastise ; but its zeal was so excessive that 
 when the sentences were published, the Pope ordered that 
 they be mitigated. So the spring and summer of 1845 
 saw martial law set up at several points in Gregory's
 
 THE POLITICAL REFORMERS. 447 
 
 dominion, yet without restoring tranquillity or allaying 
 the fear that a still more formidable eruption might at 
 any moment befall. A group of sectaries had, indeed, 
 planned an insurrection, but after reconnoitring the coun- 
 try and recognizing that the conditions were immature, 
 they issued from Tuscany a manifesto in which they called 
 the civilized world to witness the hideousness of the Pa- 
 pal government and the justice of those who protested; 
 and they stated the reforms without which no peace nor 
 compromise could be reached. This "Manifesto of lii- 
 mini," of which Charles Louis Farini was the principal 
 author, is one of the most damning indictments ever drawn 
 up by intelligent and fair-minded subjects against the 
 wickedness and incompetence of their ruler. Its very 
 sobriety makes the grievances and the accusations more 
 horrible, and bespeaks sympathy for the demands. The 
 petitioners asked that the promises of 1831 and the 
 changes suggested in the Memorandum of that year be 
 fulfilled; that amnesty and civil and criminal codes be 
 granted ; that laymen be allowed to fill those offices which 
 citizens have a right to administer; that the foreign mer- 
 cenaries be dismissed, and a Civic Guard organized ; that 
 education and the press be unshackled; that municipal 
 liberties be revived. Exorbitant favors, indeed, to ask, 
 in 1845, of Gregory XVI, who had for fourteen years been 
 insisting that such demands were instigated by Beelzebub, 
 and that merely to think tlieni was heresy, while to utter 
 them was high-treason.^ 
 
 There was another grouj) of sectaries, however, wliom 
 this mere Declaration of Wrongs could not satisfy, — 
 men of action, who were deterniineti to precipitate a con- 
 flict. AI)out a hundred of them, at the instigation of 
 Peter Kenzi, roused the jiopulace at Kiiniiii on S(»ptein- 
 ber 23, and, without dif^^ieuhy, took possession of the 
 city. For three days they rided tran<iuilly, awaiting 
 
 1 Toxt in Farini, i. ".•S-UJ.
 
 448 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 news from their confederates of similar success in the 
 neighboring towns. Then a detachment of Papal troops 
 bore down on Rimini, and Renzi, with his supporters, 
 beat a retreat, some to embark for Trieste, others to cross 
 the Apennines and seek refuge in Tuscany. A second 
 squad of insurgents, after a brief skirmish near Faenza, 
 also withdrew across the Tuscan frontier. The affair was 
 trivial enough in itself, but its sequel caused intense ex- 
 citement; for the Papal government clamored for the 
 extradition of Renzi, and the Grand Duke, instead of 
 complying, gave him a passport for France; whereat the 
 Liberals everywhere rejoiced. 
 
 Presently there issued a pamphlet, "On the Recent 
 Events in Romagna," that was eagerly read by the Ital- 
 ians and attracted wide attention beyond the Alps. The 
 author of this, the third significant political treatise, was 
 Marquis Massimo d' Azeglio, who, like Gioberti and 
 Balbo, was a Piedmontese. In the variety of his natural 
 gifts he resembled the great Italians of the Renaissance, 
 and he added to this rare combination of talents common- 
 sense, integrity, and charm. He was born (1798) into 
 the stiff, punctilious aristocracy of Piedmont, amid which 
 a prosperous career lay open to him either in the govern- 
 ment or the army ; but a sense of humor, a love of inde- 
 pendence, and, above all, a desire to achieve fame as a 
 painter, made a treadmill life, whether at court or in 
 camp, intolerable to him. When he announced to his 
 famil}^ that he had resolved to adopt the profession of 
 painter, they were as much shocked as if he had expressed 
 the intention of becoming a bootblack or a burglar. For 
 a young noble to prefer a studio to the royal antechamber 
 seemed madness ; but the youth persisted, and his father 
 reluctantly acquiesced. Massimo went to Rome, spent 
 several years in hard study, lived frugally, and gradually 
 earned reputation and a livelihood from his paintings. 
 Having removed to Milan, where he married Manzoni's
 
 THE POLITICAL REFORMEE8. 449 
 
 daughter, he wrote two historical romances, "Ettore Fie- 
 ramosea " and "Nicolb de' Lapi," which brought him a lit- 
 erary popularity second only to that of Manzoni himself. 
 He was inspired by patriotism, but a rational and tem- 
 perate patriotism, which despised rant and abhorred the 
 dagger. He was sympathetic, without being in danger 
 of losing his individuality; he kindled enthusiasm, ad- 
 miration, love, without being himself too heated to "think 
 clearly and see straight." This happy balance between 
 heart and head, this genial temperament and knightliness 
 of manner, made friends of all who knew him ; while his 
 romances endeared him to thousands who had never seen 
 his face. 
 
 By a happy chance, he had made a journey of inspec- 
 tion through the Papal States and Tuscany in this very 
 month of September, 1845. He went to canvass public 
 opinion, and there was at that time no other Italian so 
 well fitted for that work. His reputation, his contacts 
 with men of all ranks, his alertness and insight, his 
 downright honesty and freedom from prejudice, gave 
 him unique advantages. Unattached to any sect, he had 
 friends and confidants in all sects. He found the majority 
 of Liberals disgusted with the incendiary methods which 
 had proved so futile and ruinous, and he tried to lead 
 them to regard Charles Albert as the redeemer in whom 
 they might trust. But they remembered Charles Al- 
 bert's defection in 1821 and jH'rseciition in 1832, and 
 were ske])ti('al. So D' A zeglio reasoned with them: "If 
 we asked the Kinir to do somethins^ ajjainst liis interest, 
 out of pure heroism to aid Italy, we nii_t,^ht well doubt him; 
 but we ask him to Ijcnefit himself and us, — to allow us 
 to assist him to become greater and more powerful than 
 he now is. If you invite a robbi-r to be honest and he 
 promises, you may doubt lest he ])rove false; but to invite 
 him to rob, and then for you to be afraid that he will not 
 keep his word, — trulv, I sec no sense in it."' Argu- 
 
 ' D' Azeglio: / Mit i Hi onli. ii. Al\o.
 
 450 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 ments like these show how deeply rooted was the distrust 
 of Charles Albert, — a distrust which D' Azeglio himself 
 still felt, although he believed in the destiny of Pied- 
 mont, and that the King might be swept by the popular 
 tide to the accomplishment of that destiny. Preaching 
 caution and patience, he was gratified to find that the 
 majority acknowledged the wisdom of his counsels. 
 
 The turbulence of Renzi and his accomplices furnished 
 D' Azeglio with the text for his pamphlet. He wrote, as 
 he had spoken, frankly, fearlessly, repudiating the insur- 
 gents for their rashness, pointing out that the time had 
 gone by when such ebullitions were justifiable, and de- 
 claring that they harmed the patriotic cause by rousing 
 dissensions and involving crueller repression at home, and 
 by giving foreigners ground for believing that the Ital- 
 ians were a violent, fickle people, unworthy of sympathy 
 and incapable of self-control. But having reproved the 
 sectaries and their methods, he went on to describe the 
 Papal government, not abusively but calmly, laying bare 
 its rottenness, its iniquity, its senile feebleness, its greed 
 and hypocrisy. That civilized men should revolt against 
 such an administration was, he said, inevitable, and Eu- 
 rope, which abetted that monstrous misrule, ought not to 
 blame those who, in a spasm of anguish, tried to emanci- 
 pate themselves from it. When a sufferer cries out, "I 
 can endure this no longer! " it is not for the healthy to 
 say, "You can." But the sufferers had by this time 
 learned that by their outbursts they only increased their 
 pain ; it behooved them to devise other means : to abandon 
 ])liysical for moral protests, to be strenuous but temperate 
 in publishing their grievances, until the public opinion 
 of the world should plead in their behalf. That was a 
 power which no king, nor the Pontiff himself, could long 
 resist. " With your hands in your pockets you can win 
 the public opinion of the world to your cause," D' Azeglio 
 told his countrymen.
 
 THE POLITICAL REFORMERS. 451 
 
 His tract, first printed at Florence, roused immense 
 enthusiasm. Gioberti's "Primacy" had filled two octavo 
 volumes; D' Azeglio's pamphlet could be read in an hour, 
 and thereby had a great advantage. It slipped past cus- 
 toms-officers and policemen ; it was reissued clandestinely 
 from many presses; it was read and discussed every- 
 where. The Grand Duke took alarm at it. His aged ad- 
 viser Fossombroni was dead ; dead also was Neri Corsini, 
 who had, like Fossombroni, warded off the encroachments 
 of Rome and Austria; and the new minister, Cempini, 
 who succeeded them, was either timid or honestly retro- 
 grade. D'Azeglio, therefore, was commanded to quit 
 Tuscany. This silly harshness only increased the demand 
 for the little book and added to its author's popularity. 
 The Florentines gave him a farewell banquet, and well- 
 wishers from all ])urts of Tuscany flocked along the route 
 he traveled to the frontier; so his journey into exile 
 resembled a triumphal i)rogrcss. 
 
 Other ill-advised and unpopular acts gave warning 
 that the Grand Duke was falling ba(;k into the ranks of 
 Absolutism. He handed over lienzi, who, contrary to 
 Ins promise, had returned from France, to the Papal 
 government; he listened to overtures from the long-ex- 
 cluded Jesuits ; and when the Pisan professors ])rotosted 
 against the establishment of a convent of the Sisters of 
 the Sacred Heart at Pisa, his ministers formally repri- 
 manded them. But in proportion as the Grand Duke 
 lost, Charles Albert gained in popularity among the Liber- 
 als during the early j)art of 184*3. They were encouraged 
 by the report of the iuterview which D' Azeglio, return- 
 ing from his canvassing tour, had had with the King, 
 After D'Azeglio had given the gist of his couferenees 
 with the leading Moderates whom he had soumled on his 
 journey, diaries Albert uttered these memorable wonls : 
 "Inform those gentlemen to remain quiet and not to 
 move, as tliere is at })resent nothing to do; but let tliem
 
 452 THE DAWN OF ITALIAN INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 be assured that, when the occasion presents itself, my 
 life, the life of my sons, my arms, my treasure, my army, 
 — all shall be expended for the Italian cause." ^ A little 
 later, a dispute arose between Piedmont and Austria over 
 the transportation of salt through Piedmont to Switzer- 
 land. Austria would have coerced the King, but he did 
 not quail, although Metternich threatened, and took re- 
 prisals by doubling the duty on Piedmontese wines ex- 
 ported into Lombardy. Liberals who had with good 
 reason distrusted Charles Albert now began to see in 
 him the possible fulfiller of Italy's hopes. His subjects 
 greeted him with acclamations wherever they saw his tall 
 figure and melancholy face. He basked in an April sun- 
 shine of popularity. But he was still hemmed in by 
 ministers, courtiers, and priests unconverted to Liberal- 
 ism ; he was still, and must always be, limited by his Ham- 
 let nature, — quick to wish, slow to will, — and though 
 he had daunted Austria over a matter of salt and wine, 
 could he be relied upon to break irrevocably with the Past 
 and declare a national war? Rigid Count Solaro, at 
 least, would never consent to see his sovereign embark 
 on the deceptive stream which flowed into the whirlpool 
 of revolution. So there followed petty official acts which 
 threw the Piedmontese into suspense concerning Charles 
 Albert's sincerity of purpose. He seemed fated to be a 
 puzzle, a weathercock, to the end. 
 
 But the wide circvdation of the political writings of 
 Gioberti, Balbo, and D'Azeglio was a symptom of im- 
 pending change. Hitherto, patriotic tracts had issued 
 from the secret societies, and had been read on the si}-; 
 the works of these three responsible and temperate men 
 prevailed, in spite of reluctant censors, in securing a 
 quasi-legitimate circulation, and in awakening a healthy 
 discussion. They were theoretical, — -"The Primacy," 
 indeed, was but a fantastic dream, — but theories invari- 
 
 ^ D' Azeglio : Eicordi, ii, 462.
 
 THE POLITICAL REFORMERS. 453 
 
 ably precede acts, as the vague nebula antedates the star. 
 Treatises of all sizes, and freighted with divers sugges- 
 tions or nostrums, were launched in the wake of these pio- 
 neers. Gioberti himself dashed off a volume of "Prolego- 
 meni " to his "Primacy," and then, changing his attitude 
 towards clericalism, he poured out five volumes of diatribe 
 on "The Modern Jesuit." Durando, a military officer, 
 proposed that, the Austrians having been expelled, Italy 
 should be divided into three Kingdoms, two to be ruled 
 by Charles Albert and Ferdinand of Naples, while the 
 Pope and the Dukes ruled the third. ^ liicciardi, an 
 ardent Mazzinian, showed how easily independence and a 
 republic could be won.^ "A Sicilian" discoursed on tlie 
 strength of national sentiment ; Canuti and Capponi drew 
 fresh pictures of the outrageous Papal government. 
 Less popular, but not less valuable, were the contribu- 
 tions of two men who understood how tightly the econom- 
 ical question was bound up in the political. Petitti, 
 writing on the extension of the railway system, and Ca- 
 vour, writing on railways and England's tariff reforms, 
 aided the great cause. Henceforth, the Italians had no 
 lack of printed counsel, wise or foolish. But they nuist 
 be patient, for the moment to convert counsel into deeds 
 had not come. Gregory XVI still lived. At the Vati- 
 can, they knew, was the source of that evil system which 
 corrupttid the entire Peninsula, and with prayers on their 
 lips and yearning in their hearts they watched for news 
 from Komc. That ancient compact of the Pai)acy with 
 Mammon had borne tliis hideous fact, — a wliole ])eople 
 bclic^vt'd that neither justice nor happiness nor virtue 
 could proceed from Gregory, the re])resentative of Al- 
 mighty (lod and tlic Vicar of ,fcsus Christ; tlierefore 
 they ])rayed that Gregory might die. 
 
 ' Giacoiiio Durundo: Delia Xiizianalila Italiana (Lausanne, 1S4G). 
 ^ Confurti aW Italia (Paris, ISlf,).
 
 14- 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Santa Barbara 
 
 ^I^^^H 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW. 
 
 Series 9482