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

by Giuseppe Garibaldi

He considers that the liberty of a nation consists in the people choosing their own government, and that this government should be dictatorial or presidential; that is to say, directed by one man alone. To such an institution the greatest people in the world owed their greatness. But woe be to those who, instead of a Cincinnatus, elect a Cæsar! The Dictatorship should be limited to a fixed period, and prolonged only in extraordinary cases, like that in the authority of Abraham Lincoln in the late war of the United States. It must be guarded by popular rights and public opinion from becoming either excessive or hereditary.

The islander whom we are describing, however, is not a dogmatist, and holds that form of government desired or adopted by the majority of the people most beneficial to each nation; and he gives, by way of illustration, the English constitution. He regards the existing European system as utterly immoral, and the governments guilty of the crimes and suffering of the Continent; since, instead of seeking the welfare and prosperity of their peoples, they intrigue only to secure their own despotic positions. Hence that legion of armies, political functionaries, and hangers-on, who devour in idleness the productions of industry; pampering their vicious appetites, and spreading universal corruption. These drones of the hive, not content with what suffices for one man, conspire to appropriate to each of themselves the portion of fifty to maintain their pomp and supply their luxuries.

This is just why the working portion of the populace are loaded with taxes, and deprived of the manliest of their sons, who are torn from the plough and the workshop to swell the ranks of the armies, under the pretext that they are necessary to their country's safety, but in reality to sustain a monstrous and fatal form of government. The people are consequently discontented, starving, and wretched.

The continual state of warfare in which Europe is kept, too clearly shows how ill-governed it is. Were each nation naturally and nobly governed, war would cease, and the people would learn to understand and to respect one another's rights without a passionate or suicidal recourse to arms.

A Federation of European nations must be cemented by the medium of representatives for each country, whose fundamental proclamation should be—"War is declared impossible" and their second basis the law that, "All disputes which may arise between nations shall henceforth be settled by the International Congress."

Thus war—that scourge and disgrace of humanity—would be exterminated forever, and with its extermination, the necessity for maintaining a paid army would obviously cease, and the children of the peoples, now led out to slaughter under the fictitious names of patriotism and glory, would be restored to their families, to the field, and to the workshop, once more to contribute to the fruitfulness and general improvement of their native countries.

Such, then, are the sentiments upon these topics of the recluse, and we frankly confess them to be also our own.

To this island, the abode of the recluse, Julia had arranged to take her friends; but when it became impracticable for Silvia and Clelia to join them, on account of the storm, and the consequent injury to the yacht, she changed her plans, feeling that they would have altered their own, and resolved to touch there only for advice, and then to return to the Continent to gain, if possible, some news of Manlio's family.

Picture, courteous reader, one of those Mediterranean daybreaks which, by its glorious beauty of gold and color, makes the watchers forget the miseries of life and ponder only those marvellous marks of the Creator's love with which he has embellished the earth.

Dawn is slowly breaking over the horizon, and tinting with all the colors of the rainbow the fleecy clouds. The stars insensibly pale and disappear before the radiance of the rising sun; and the voyager stands enchanted at the sight, as the gentle breath of morning streams from the east, slightly ruffling the blue waters, and fanning his cheek.