Rule of the Monk; Or, Rome in the Nineteenth Century

by Giuseppe Garibaldi

CHAPTER XXXIV. A VALUABLE ACQUISITION

The most earnest reformer most confess that immense progress has been made during the present century. We are not speaking of mechanical or physical arts, in which the advance is really wonderful, but we are thinking solely of the political and moral achievements of the age.

The emancipation of the nations from the power of the priest is a vast object not yet attained, but towards the accomplishment of which, nevertheless, our generation is making gigantic strides.

Above all, this progress seems marvellous and divinely impelled, when one remembers that the gradual destruction of priestcraft is the work of the priesthood itself. What enduring consolidation would not the Papacy have obtained, had Pius IX. continued the system of reform with which he commenced his reign, and sincerely identified himself with the Italian nation! An overruling Providence, however, blinded the eyes of the wavering monk for the good of his unfortunate people, and left him to travel on the perverse and misguided road of his predecessors—that is to say, to trade away Roman honor and Christian spirit for the help of the foreigner, vilely selling the blood of his countrymen. The Italian nation, which might have been so well and long deceived, has now seen these impostors, the priests, walking with cross in hand at the head of the foreign troops pitted against Italian patriots. The writer has with his own eyes more than once witnessed priests leading the Austrians against the Liberals. To serve the Papacy they have excited and maintained brigandage, devastating the southern provinces with horrible crimes, and fomenting by every means in their power the dissolution of national unity, so happily but hardly constituted.

Another sign of human progress in our day is the closer tie establishing itself between the aristocracy and the people. There still exist some oligarchs everywhere, more or lest callous, more or less insolent, who affect the arrogance and authority of former times, when the outrageous and intolerable feudal pretensions were in full force. But they are few in number, and the greater part of the nobility (noble not only by birth, but in soul) associate with os, and mingle their aspirations with ours.

To this last type belonged the brother of Irene, who undertook the unlucky military affair we related in the last chapter, with the idea of rescuing his beloved sister from the brigands, into whose hands he believed she had fallen an unwilling victim. But when he learned that those he had fought against were Romans of noble and lofty spirit, and very far from the assassins he had pictured, he did not fail to compliment the valor of his countrymen; and when he further learned that Qrazio, to whose generosity he owed his life, was the legal husband of his sister, and that she loved him so tenderly, his maimer and opinion changed entirely.

These considerations had pleaded already in favor of Irene, who, upon seeing her brother, threw herself at his feet, clasping his knees in a flood of tears, which flowed the faster at the remembrance of her dead father, whom he represented in face and voice.

The Prince, raising her gently, mingled his tears with hers, as he affectionately embraced her. Orazio, touched to the depths of his soul, was also affected, and taking the Prince's sword by the point, handed it back to him, saying, "So noble a soldier ought not to be deprived, even by accident, of his weapon." The Prince accepted it with gratitude, and shook the bronzed hand of this son of the forest amicably.

And Clelia! what had made her rush away from this charming scene? what had she heard amid the noise of the conflict? She had recognized the voice of her Attilio during the assault, and for her and him too this was a supreme moment. Yes, during the battle, when the shouts of the new-comers made the arches of the castle ring again, Clelia distinguished her betrothed's voice. She threw down a gun which she was loading, and rushed to a balcony, whence she could survey the scene of action. For one second, through the smoke, she obtained a view of the face engraven upon her heart, but that second was sufficient to make her feel surpassingly happy. Attilio, indeed, it was, who, with Silvio, Muzio, and some other companions, had thus charged and scattered the Papal troops.

Silvio, it must be known, was well acquainted with the castle of Lucullus, where he had often been a guest, as well as the associate of Orazio in his hunting and fighting expeditions. Through him a communication was kept up between the Liberals in the city and those in the country. Before quitting Rome he had come to the determination of taking the field, and placing himself under Orazio's flag, and, as we have seen, he happily arrived with his associates just in time to give the last blow to the Papal soldiers.