"The long roll of the 'spirit-stirring drums,' the discordant noises of the Calabrese soldiers as they were endeavoring to form their ranks, the dashing in of carriages from Naples with their cargoes of deputations to attend Garibaldi, roused me before four o'clock, September 7th, from my bed, in a wretched 'albergo' in Salerno, where I had been the prey of mosquitoes since midnight. Garibaldi was astir as early as four o'clock; he had seen members of the committee from Naples, and was arranging his entrée into the city. At my interview with him yesterday at Eboli, which was a hurried one, he had requested me to see him in the evening; he was so surrounded by crowds of admirers, all anxious for a glimpse at the 'great man,' that I delayed my interview until this morning. On entering the large rooms of the Hôtel de Ville, or 'Intendenza,' the throngs of people and their agitation and excitement were most striking.
"The national guard of Salerno lined the avenues; priests of every denomination crowded to touch the 'hem of his garment.' Officers of State of the king were in earnest conversation with him, urging his coming without delay into Naples.
"A special train of about 20 carriages was in waiting at 10 o'clock, and we obtained a seat in the carriage next to that in which Garibaldi was. Throughout the journey to Naples, in every village, at every station, the joy and enthusiasm of the people exceeded the powers of description. Women and girls presented flags, threw flowers into the carriages, struggled to kiss the hand of the general. Mayors and syndics ejaculated their gratulations; priests and monks stood, surrounded by their wretched flocks, on the hill-side, and shouted their 'Vivas,' and holding the crucifix in one hand and the sword in the other, waved them in the air, and bawled out their benedictions. As the train passed the king's guard at Portici, the soldiers threw their caps into the air, and joined lustily in the 'Viva Garibaldi!'"
It was reported in Naples, about eleven o'clock, that Garibaldi was to arrive that day, and a great part of the inhabitants, on first hearing the news, hastened to the station. A detachment of national guards marched with the national colors flying, and in the yard assembled all the leading liberals in their carriages, the secret committee, now no longer concealed, and several foreign ministers, including the French, M. Brenier, to do honor to the hero.
"Many ladies were in the waiting-saloon, which was crowded with national guards and gentlemen in plain clothes and all sorts of uniforms.
"After waiting an hour (writes a spectator), shouts were heard, and the scream of an arriving train. 'He is come!' The train steams in. In the first carriage, standing on the roof, is a giant of a man, with a cap, a red shirt, and the handkerchief fastened on his shoulders. The cries and cheers increase. Suddenly all is hushed again, and we are down to zero. It is only a train of disarmed Bavarians en route from Salerno. At last he does come. The enthusiasm is overpowering. Surrounded by a band of soldiers, sons of Anak as to size, and dressed in the wild and travel-stained costumes of an irregular army on a campaign, comes Garibaldi. The first thing that strikes you is his face, and the deep determination of his extraordinary forehead. A face that might serve as a model for the sculptor, is softened almost to sweetness by the mildness of the eyes and the low tone of the most musical voice I have ever heard. Long, grizzly curls hang from his broad hat. He wears a red shirt with a silk handkerchief on his shoulders, like the 'panuelo' of the South American, and grey trousers. He escapes as well and as soon as he can from a reception, which he accepts rather than covets, and proceeds to take possession of his new abode.
"Garibaldi entered the private carriage of the French minister, his staff following in other carriages, and some few on horseback; the cortége consisted of about twenty vehicles. Individually I have never seen such men as his body-guard, and the picturesque dress sets off their height and the squareness of their build. Compared with these soldiers, Garibaldi is short, but very powerfully made. Along the crowded Marinelli, the headquarters of lazzaroni, now constitutional popolani, one of whom rode before Garibaldi's carriage, through the Largo del Castello, the Strada di Toledo, and finally to the Palazzo della Regina di Savoia, opposite the Palazzo Reale, which the dictator refused to inhabit, the cortége makes its way, and Garibaldi enters into what was once a palace of the Bourbons. The shouts of the crowd now gathered together in the square penetrate the inmost recesses, and presently the window opens and Garibaldi appears, followed by a large staff of officials. The others stop, and he advances alone to the centre of the balcony that extends along the palace, and the cheering is deafening. It is no use for the hero to speak till the people have a little exhausted their powers; so he stands there alone, leaning on his hand, with his fine features in repose, and an almost melancholy expression on his face, as if he felt that his career was a duty which had its thorns as well as its roses; and that, though the end sanctifies the means, yet carnage and slaughter, tottering thrones and crumbling dynasties, leave their impression on the brow that caused them. I have never seen so grand a study as Garibaldi, as he stood silently speculating, perhaps, over the true value of the people whom he had just freed. He spoke at some length, but it was impossible to distinguish what he said, though it was easy to perceive that he speaks with great energy. Having satisfied, for the moment at least, the desires of the bassa-gente (the populace), it was time to re-enter the palace and receive the welcome of the upper classes. The stair and entrée to the dictator's levée were an extraordinary spectacle. The door leading to the suite of apartments in which the general held his reception was kept by the national guard, who were perpetually assailed by persons desiring to see the dictator 'face to face.' Men of all nations and in all costumes seemed suddenly to have started up in the heart of Naples.
"The reception was brief—even Garibaldi requires repose—and after having appeared on both sides of the palace, and received the compliments of all classes, including a Venetian deputy, who said, 'We are ready, and only await Garibaldi,' to which the dictator replied, with a quiet smile, 'Aspetta, aspetta!' (Wait, wait), he retired from the palazzo to his quarters in the Palazzo Angri, Strada Toledo, where another ovation awaited him. On his way he went to the cathedral, and was received with due honors. The generality of priests have retired to their cells, but many are still about, and I met one in the presence chambers in full canonicals, crossed by a tri-colored scarf, and bearing an enormous Sardinian flag—'Tempora mutantur et nos.'"
On Saturday, the 8th, there was a sudden commotion in the Castelnovo, on the shore, a description of which will convey a just idea of the state of Naples and the garrison. A spectator wrote:
"One of those uproarious bursts of applause which come upon us like hurricanes, called me to the window. The soldiers in the garrison at the Castelnovo had just burst out, and were running, jumping, galloping past my house like so many slaves who had burst out of the house of bondage. Some were armed with muskets; most had their sacks full of loaves of bread, which dropped from their wallets as they ran along, shouting, like so many madmen, 'Viva Garibaldi!' At every step they met with crowds of men and women, armed with naked swords, daggers, and pikes, which they flourished in the air, uttering at the same time the usual magic cries. Dirty-looking fellows, in the Neapolitan uniform, were hugged and kissed by persons as dirty as themselves, and then uniting, all surged onward to the Toledo. It was impossible to remain in the house, and escaping from my chains, which fell from me as soon as the post left, I hurried into the street. I turn round to Criatamone, and just above me, peering over the walls, I see a number of soldiers in garrison in the Pizzofalcone, and watching if the road was clear. The people about me were waving their hands to them, and inviting them to come down. There are iron doors at the bottom, and sentinels stand by them. Down come the troops in a torrent—sentinels are motionless, the doors bend, at last yield, and at length out they come like so many madmen out of Bedlam, and run after their companions from the Castelnovo. Sentinels still stand, 'pro formâ,' at the doors of both the forts, but they are abandoned, and empty walls and harmless cannon alone remain to be guarded. Meanwhile, Garibaldi is going to Pie di Grotta, like another Emperor Carlo III., on the first day of his entry into Naples. Carriages dash by me full of red jackets, or of men and women brandishing swords and pikes, whilst the rain is pouring down in torrents, and the thunder is pealing, as if it were a salute of heaven for the liberator of the Two Sicilies. The weather prevented any grand display, though the disposition was not wanting on the part of the people, as the flags which hung down lank from the windows abundantly showed. The weather brightened up toward the evening, and the town was more brilliantly illuminated than last night. There can be no mistake about the matter, the enthusiasm is very great. People are beside themselves, and scenes are witnessed which, perhaps, have never been witnessed in any other country under the sun. Two lines of carriages go up and down the Toledo filled with persons decorated with tri-colored ribbons and scarfs, and carrying the flag of Piedmont, or rather of Italy. There are people of every class: there are priests and monks, as gaily decorated as any, and some are armed; there are women in the Garibaldian dress, and many carry daggers or pikes; there are red jackets of Garibaldi and red jackets of England; there are people from the provinces, who have scarcely dared to speak or breathe for twelve long years, who are now frantic with joy. What wonder if they have lost their senses?