“Yes, the city is full of Poles and Hungarians.”
“It will soon be time to drop the curtain on this act of the drama, Morlache; enough has been done to show the world the dangerous doctrines of these fanatics. They who cry 'No property in France,' shout 'No King in Germany,' 'No Pope in Rome.' The peaceful or well-ordered must be taught to see in us their safeguard against these men. They must learn to think the Church the sanctuary it was of old. From all these convulsions which shatter empires, we are the refuge!”
“But you yourself gave the first impulse to this very movement, Abbé?”
“And wisely and well we did it! Should we have stood passive to watch the gradual growth of that cursed spirit they miscall independent judgment,—that rankest heresy that ever corrupted the human heart? Should we have waited till Protestantism with its Bible had sowed the seeds of that right of judgment which they proclaim is inherent in all men? Would it have been safe policy to admit of discussing what was obligatory to obey, and look on while this enlightenment—as they blasphemously term it—was arraigning the dogma of the Church as unblushingly as they questioned the decree of a minister?”
“I perceive,” said the Jew, laughing, “You great politicians are not above taking a lesson from the 'Bourse,' and know the trick of puffing up a bad scheme to a high premium, prepared to sell out the day before 'the fall.'”
“We had higher and nobler views,” said D'Esmonde, proudly. “The men who will not come to the altars of the Church must be taught her doctrines before the portals. Our task is to proclaim Rome——eternal Rome—to Europe!”
“Up to this your success has not been signal,” said Morlache, with a sneer. “This victory at Goito has given fresh vigor to the Republicans. The Austrians once driven beyond the Alps, Monarchy wilt be short-lived in Italy.”
“And who says that they will be so driven? Who ever dreams of such a result, save some wild fanatic of Genoa, or some half-informed minister at London? The King of Naples only waits for the excuse of a Calabrian disturbance to recall his contingent. The Pope has already issued an order to Durando not to pass the Po. The Piedmontese themselves are on the verge of an irreparable quarrel,—the men of Savoy and the north for Monarchy; the Genoese, wild with their own ancient ideas of a Ligurian Republic. Is it the Lombards, think you, will conquer Lombardy? or do you fancy that Florence and Pisa are the nurseries of heroes? No, Morlache, the game of revolt is played out in Italy; the last trump is Goito.”
“But if, flushed with conquest, the Piedmontese press on to greater successes?”
“They cannot,—they would not, even if they could,” broke in D'Esmonde. “Is it the Republicans will shed their blood to conquer a kingdom of Upper Italy for Carlo Alberto? Is it the interest of Rome or Naples to see such a power in the Peninsula? Will the troops of the Monarchy, on the other hand, fight for a cause that is to obliterate the throne? No; believe me, their mutual grudges have been well weighed and estimated. We never dared this bold policy without seeing clearly that their interests could never be reconciled.—I think I hear the sound of oars; yes, he must be coming at last!” D'Esmonde opened the window as he spoke, and looked out upon the river, which, reflecting along the sides the gorgeous pageantry of the illumination, was dark as ink in the middle of the stream. “Not a word of this, Morlache, when he joins us,” added D'Esmonde.