"Victor Emanuel, the model of all sovereigns, will impress upon his descendants the duty that they owe to the prosperity of a people which has elected him for their chief with enthusiastic devotion. The Italian priests, who are conscious of their true mission, have, as a guaranty of the respect with which they will be treated, the ardor, the patriotism, and the truly Christian conduct of their numerous fellow ecclesiastics, who, from the highly to be praised monks of Lagracia to the noble-hearted priests of the Neapolitan continent, one and all, in the sight and at the head of our soldiers, defied the gravest dangers of battle. I repeat it, concord is the first want of Italy, so we will welcome as brothers those who once disagreed with us, but now sincerely wish to bring their stone to raise up the monument of our country. Finally, respecting other people's houses: we are resolved to be masters in our own house, whether the powerful of the earth like it or not.
"Giuseppe Garibaldi."
The following were some of the occurrences in Naples immediately after the entrance of Garibaldi.
The four battalions of chasseurs whom the king had left behind in his flight, quartered here and there about the town, disbanded. Many of the soldiers went home; those who wished to remain at Naples, secure from harm, did obeisance to the new powers, by wearing a small badge with the Savoy cross on their breasts. The fortress of St. Elmo followed the example of the fleet. It fired a thundering salvo in honor of Garibaldi, hoisted the Sardinian colors, and admitted the national guards within its walls. The other forts were garrisoned by this same burgher militia. Naples, in short, was now wholly in the hands of the patriots, and Garibaldi had already pushed forward one or two brigades, which gained possession of the royal palace of Caserta. The king had shut the gates of Capua. There and at Gaeta he was to abide till his enemies should come on. Meanwhile Garibaldi, master of the seas, sent his steamers to Paola, to Sapri, to all the small ports near which his overtasked legions lingered behind. Every morning were shouts of a joyous landing and a triumphant march of those several brigades. The whole force was soon brought together, and the respite allowed to the king at Gaeta was of no long duration.
The joy of the good Neapolitans at their cheaply-gotten emancipation, became daily more noisy and frantic. Every evening the Toledo was all alive with banners and torches, with thronged masses of possessed people, all shouting out with all the might of their southern throats, that favorite cry, "Una! Una! Una!" —conveying their desire that all Italy should be made one country. There was a grand gala night at San Carlo, when the proscenium, the pit, and the boxes became one vast stage. The whole performance consisted of Io Pæans to Garibaldi, who, calm and serene in his homely garb, had a pleasant word for all the friends who surrounded him in his box, and was, in fact, less insensible to that popular demonstration than he might have wished to avow.
One of the greatest objects of interest was the easily-won castle St. Elmo. The whole population of Naples, male and female, seemed bent on performing a pilgrimage to that shrine of their patriot martyrs.
One of Garibaldi's soldiers thus described it:
"Yesterday I went up myself with a party of friends. We first walked through St. Martin's marble church and monastery, where our Garibaldian red shirts, I dare say, boded little good to the white-cowled monks, who gazed at us as we passed, tall, stately, and motionless, so that we at first mistook them for statues;—good Carthusian monks, doing penance in a marble paradise, bound by vow to perpetual silence, and affecting an easy, unconcerned air, though in their heart of hearts, probably, trembling not a little for the visible and invisible treasures of which their sanctuary has been, time out of mind, the repository.
"From the marble cells of the monks to the iron dungeons of the victims of Castle St. Elmo the transition is but short, but the contrast is appalling. The stone steps wind down six floors, and at every floor room was made for about half a score of victims. Some of the miserable cells had windows; but, as the view from the hill over the loveliest panorama of land and sea would have been too great a solace to the lonely captive, the window was latticed over by thick wooden bars, not intended to prevent escape—for from that height only a bird could attempt it—but simply to rob the poor recluse of the distant view of his familiar scenes. In the lowest floor there is no window to the dungeons—only a little wicket in the door, opening outwardly, for the gaoler to communicate with the prisoner if he has a mind. That wicket would be opened one moment in the morning to let in a little bread and water; then the wicket would fall to, and for twenty-four hours all would be darkness inside.
"I do not like to witness horrors, much less to dwell upon them, else I could tell you of the loopholes we were shown, through which the sentries could shoot the prisoners in their cells and their beds. I could repeat the instances of wholesale executions of Swiss and Sicilian mutineers of which St. Elmo has been the theatre, and of which the world never knew anything. The caitiffs who were but yesterday in the king's pay are eager to promulgate abroad the infamy of his doings, and I have no doubt St. Elmo will soon become the subject of books or pamphlets, yielding but little in interest to the stories of La Bastille, of which it will soon share the fate.