Shortly after this conversation I offered my hand to Miss Josephine Hely, the youngest daughter of Captain Hely; an amiable young lady, carefully and virtuously brought up, and happily for herself, as for me, imbued with Protestant principles, by a dear friend of hers, Mrs. Tennant, the wife of the Rev. Mr. Tennant, the minister of the English Church at Florence. This lady had always manifested a mother's tenderness for her, and it is in grateful acknowledgment of it, on the part of my wife, and equally on my own, that I pay this testimony to her worth. We were publicly and solemnly joined in holy matrimony on the 24th of June, 1849, according to the rites of our Italian Church; but as the government which authorized that act has since fallen, or rather has become suspended, we took care, on arriving in England, to have our marriage duly registered, at the Parish Church of St. Martin in the Fields.
I was convinced, in the very commencement of my conjugal life, that I had not been too sanguine in my hopes of finding a congenial companion and valuable helpmate, in my destined and beloved partner. The similarity of our religious views, the facility with which she expressed herself in my native language, which was indeed hers also, and her ardent desire to co-operate with me in my designs, all made me look upon my union with her as another of the precious favours for which I had to be grateful to the Lord; equally likely to increase my own happiness, and to extend the sphere of my usefulness to others.
My dear wife loved me as the wife of a minister of the Gospel ought to love her husband. She was aware what the followers of Christ had to expect. I had myself forewarned her that if she anticipated comfort in my affection, and delight in my society, she would also have to experience much trouble. On our very wedding day I told her that the lot she would have to share with me would in all probability be more marked by tribulation than by joy, and that in this world we might be called on to suffer in the flesh—for the spirit cannot be injured—to endure persecution even unto death: she bowed her head in resignation to the will of Heaven, and assured me that she also was desirous to become a handmaid of the Lord, and was ready to do His will.
It was ordained that we should soon be put to the proof. Scarcely a month had passed over our heads, when a sudden stroke divided us. Was this misfortune foreseen by me? Had I no indication of its approach? It would be folly in me to say that I did not expect it. But so it was, I had no help for it. The hand of Him who is mighty to save kept me in Rome in the midst of danger and alarm. Even my wife, who is naturally timid, seemed at that time endued with a courage that rendered her insensible to the imminent peril that awaited me. We talked much together, concerning the difficulties of my position, without being able to come to any positive decision. In short, we saw the storm approaching, but knew not how to avoid it. Some advised me to be circumspect; others spoke out plainly of the probability of my being put into prison. But I laughed at them.
"Why do you not get away?" asked one of my best friends. "Do you not know that already arrests are being made on every side? Do you think it likely that they will spare you, who have rendered yourself so obnoxious to the priests?"
"My dear friend," I replied, "the present government have but one fault to charge me with, that of having abandoned the Church and reformed my creed, and, as a natural consequence, if you will, entered into matrimony. Now for this pretended crime I am only responsible to the Inquisition. The civil tribunals have nothing against me; I am no political offender. It is well known that ever since I have returned to Rome I have lived as a private citizen, and never held any office under the Republic; so that I am easy on that score. As to the criminal courts, thank Heaven, I have no cause to fear them; nor in that of the Vicar-General can any charge be laid against me for immorality. But do you think that the Tribunal of the Inquisition can ever be re-established? under the protection of France too? It is not to be thought of. At any rate, without the Pope and the Cardinals there can be no Inquisition in Rome, and they are not likely to return just yet. Indeed, I shall not wait for them; I shall be far away before they come back."
"Your reasoning is very good; but do you imagine justice will be done to you? have you never heard the logic of priests? Stat pro ratione voluntas: they have only to desire, and your ruin is certain."
"My dear friend, prudence is very desirable; but not so that restless apprehension which takes possession of the mind, to the exclusion of all other feelings, and leads us to imagine danger where none exists. Our Lord authorized His disciples, when they should be persecuted in one city, to flee unto another; but who, as yet, has persecuted me? If I fly without such persecution, what answer shall I give to the Lord, when he shall say to me: 'Shepherd, I had entrusted a flock to your care, I had even given you my lambs to feed, and to guide into the paths of salvation; you were their guardian; and behold, you saw the wolf approach, and you fled. You are not their true shepherd, but a hireling who careth not for the sheep. Leave it to Pio Nono, who is no true shepherd, to desert his flock; but you—' Ah! my friend, above all I should dread so terrible and so just a reproof. I will only fly when the Lord, who has placed me here, enjoins me to do so. Until He declares His will, I shall remain where I am."
At this my friend shook his head, and said, "Since you are resolved, may the Lord keep and protect you. He will either remove the danger from you, or——but whatever be His pleasure, may His gracious will be done."