It was at the party which we left that night that I was first struck with the natural intrepidity of Garibaldi. His square shoulders and tapering body I had somehow come to associate with military impassableness, and the easy, self-possessed way in which he moved through the crowd in the room confirmed my impression. I was told afterwards by one of his fellow combatants that unconscious courage was his characteristic on the field. Calmness and imperturbable modesty were attributes of his mind, as seen in his heroic acts, deemed utterly impossible save in romance. He had received the triumphal acclamation of people he freed, whose forefathers had only dreamed of liberation.
Since the time of that casual acquaintanceship, Garibaldi had heard of me from Mazzini, from Mr. Cowen, and as acting secretary of the Committee who sent out the British Legion to him. We had collected a considerable sum of money for him, which was lying in unfriendly hands, but which his treasurer had been unable to obtain. I had sent him other help, when help was sorely needed by his troops. Besides, I had defended him and his cause under the names of "Landor Praed," "Disque," and my own name, in the press. Garibaldi sent me one of the first photographs taken of himself after his victorious entry into Naples, on which he had written the words, "Garibaldi, to his friend, J. G. Holyoke." He had got name and initials transposed in those eventful days. After the affair of Micheldever,* he charged his son Menotti to show me personal and public attention on his visit to the House of Commons. To the end of his life he saw every visitor who came to him with a note from me.
* See "Sixty Years," chap, lxxix.
When Menotti Garibaldi died, the family wished that the flag which the "Thousand" carried when they made their celebrated invasion of the Neapolitan kingdom, should be borne at the funeral. They therefore telegraphed to the mayor of Marsala, who was supposed to be the guardian of the relic. The mayor replied that he had not got it, but that it was at Palermo; so the mayor of Palermo was telegraphed to. He also replied that he had not got it, and said it was in the possession of Signor Antonio Pellegrini, but that its authenticity was very doubtful. General Canzio, one of the survivors of the expedition, says that the flag possessed by Signor Pellegrini is nothing like the real one, which was merely a tricolor of three pieces of cotton nailed to a staff. At the battle of Calatafimi the standard-bearer was shot and the flag lost. It was said to have been captured by a Neapolitan sub-lieutenant, but all traces of it have now disappeared. The wonder is not that the flag has disappeared, but that so many official persons should declare it to exist elsewhere, of which they had no knowledge. The flag of the Washington would have been lost had it not been taken possession of by De Rohan. The last flag carried by the Mazzinians, which was shot through, would have been lost also had not Mr. J. D. Hodge sought for it before it was too late. Both flags are in my possession.
Walter Savage Landor sent me (August 20, 1860) these fine lines on Garibaldi's conquest of the Sicilies:—
"Again her brow
Sicaria rears
Above the tombs—two thousand years,
Have smitten sore her beauteous breast,
And war forbidden her to rest
Yet war at last becomes her friend,
And shouts aloud
Thy grief shall end.
Sicaria! hear me! rise again!
A homeless hero breaks thy chain."
How often did I hear it said, in his great days of action, that had Garibaldi known the perils he encountered in his enterprises, he would never have attempted them. No one seemed able to account for his success, save by saying he was "an inspired madman." His heroism was not born of insanity, but knowledge. His wonderful march of conquest through Italy was made possible by Mazzini. In every town there was a small band, mostly of young heroic men, who were inspired by Mazzini's teaching, who, like the brothers Bandiera, led forlorn hopes, or who were ready to act when occasion arose. I well remember when seeking assistance for Mazzini, how friends declined to contribute lest they became accessory to the fruitless sacrifice of brave men. There was no other way by which Italy could be freed, than by incurring this risk. Mazzini knew it, and the men knew it, as Mazzini did not conceal it from those he inspired.
The following letter to me by one of the combatants was published at the time in the Daily Telegraph, It is a forgotten vignette of the war, drawn by a soldier on the battlefield who had been wounded five times before, fighting under Garibaldi:—
"Dear Sir,—Just time to say that we are in full possession, after streams of blood have flowed. Fights 'twixt brothers are deadly.
"We want money; we want, as I told you, a British steamer chartered, with revolving rifles and pistols of Colt's (17, Pall Mall), also some cannon raye but for the sake of humanity and liberty do hurry up the subscriptions. The sooner we are strong the less the chance of more fighting. We muster now some 30,000 all told, though not all armed. We want arms and ammunition, and caps—Minie rifles. Or the rifle corps pattern the General would as soon have. He is well and radiant with joy and hope, though sighing over the necessity to shed blood. Oh! will the world never learn to value the really great men of the earth until the grave has closed over them? Garibaldi has written only one or two of all the things published over his name. The rest are the inventions of enemies or over-zealous friends.
"Messina must capitulate. If the King grant a constitution, all will be lost. The Bourbons must be driven from Italy, for it will never be quiet without. Warn the papers against trusting the so-called letters, etc., from Garibaldi. He writes little or none, and dislikes to be made prominent.
"Do try and urge on the subscriptions. The English admiral here has behaved bravely, and Lord John Russell's praises are in every one's mouth; but he must not falter or hesitate.
"The Royal Palace was burned down, and the fighting was desperate indeed.
"Of all the defeats imputed to the 'insurgents' not one has really taken place. The General was at times obliged to sacrifice some lives for strategical purposes.
"Now, pray use your influence for England not to allow Naples to patch up a peace, for I tell you it is useless. Garibaldi and his friends will never consent to anything short of 'Italy for the Italians.'
"You may communicate this as 'official' if you wish to the Times or News, reserving my name, Yours truly, in great haste,
"——————-
"G. J. Holyoake, Esq.
"P.S.—I need hardly say this will have to take its chance of getting to you. I trust it to a captain whom I have given the money to pay the postage in Genoa, where he is going. Will you let me hear from you?"
He did hear from me. Whether it is good to die "in vain," as George Eliot held, I do not stay to determine. Certainly, to die when you know it to be your duty, whether "in vain" or not, implies a high order of nature. Sir Alfred Lyall has sung the praise of those English soldiers captured in India, who, when offered their lives if they would merely pronounce the name of the Prophet, refused. It was only a word they had to patter, and Sir Alfred exclaims, "God Almighty, what could it matter?" But the brave Englishmen died rather than be counted on the side of a faith they did not hold. Dying for honour is not dying in vain, and I thought the Italians entitled to help in their holy war for manhood and independence.
When Garibaldi was at Brooke House, Isle of Wight, I was deputed by the Society of the Friends of Italy to accompany Mazzini to meet Garibaldi. Herzen, the Russian, who kept the "Kolokol" ringing in the dominions of the Czar, met us at Southampton. The meeting with Garibaldi took place at the residence of Madame Nathan. The two heroes had not met in London when the General was a guest of the Duke of Sutherland. As soon as Garibaldi saw Mazzini, he greeted him in the old patois of the lagoons of Genoa. It affected Mazzini, to whom it brought back scenes of their early career, when the inspiration of Italian freedom first began.
Mrs. Nathan, wife of the Italian banker of Cornhill, was an intrepid lady, true to the freedom of her country, who had assisted Garibaldi and Mazzini in many a perilous enterprise. After the interview at her house, she had occasion to consult Garibaldi on matters of moment. Misled or deterred by aspersion, which every lady had to suffer, suspected of patriotic complicity, Mrs. Nathan was not invited to Brooke House. Under these circumstances she could not go alone to see the General, and she asked me to take her. Offering her my arm, we walked through the courtyard and along the corridors of the house to Garibaldi's rooms. Going and returning from her interview, I was much struck by the queenly grace and self-possession of Mrs. Nathan's manner. There was neither disquietude nor consciousness in her demeanour of the disrespect of not being invited to Brooke House, though her residence was known.
On the night of Garibaldi's arrival at Brooke House, Mr. Seely, the honoured host of the General, invited me to join the dinner party, where I heard things said on some matters, which the speakers could not possibly know to be true. Garibaldi showed no traces of excitement, which had dazed so many at Southampton that afternoon. The vessel which brought him there was immediately boarded by a tumultuous crowd of visitors. All the reporters of the London and provincial press were waiting for the vessel to be sighted, and they were foremost in the throng on the ship. Before them all was Mrs. Colonel Chambers, with her beseeching eyes, large, luminous and expressive, and difficult to resist. Garibaldi gave instant audience to Joseph Cowen, whose voice alone, or chiefly, influenced him. Years before, when Garibaldi was unknown, friendless, and penniless, he turned his bark up the Tyne to visit Mr. Cowen, the only Englishman from whom he would ask help. Garibaldi's first day at Southampton was more boisterous than a battle. Everybody wanted him to go everywhere. Houses where his name had never been heard were now open to him. Mr. Seely was known to be his friend. The Isle of Wight was near. Brooke House lay out of the way of the "madding crowd," and there his friends would have time to arrange things for him. The end of his visit to England was sudden, unforeseen, inexplicable both to friend and foe, at the time and for long after.
He had accepted engagements to appear in various towns in England, where people would as wildly greet him as the people of London had done. When it was announced that he had left England, it was believed that the Emperor of the French had incited the Government to prevail upon Garibaldi to leave the country. Others conjectured that Mr. Gladstone had whispered something to him which had caused the Italian hero to depart. I asked about it from one who knew everything that took place—Sir James Stansfeld—and from him I learned that no foreign suggestion had been made, that nothing whatever had been said to Garibaldi. His leaving was entirely his own act. He had reason to believe that Louis Napoleon was capable of anything; but with all his heroism, Garibaldi was imaginative and proud He fancied his presence in England was an embarrassment to the Government. He being the guest of the nation, they would never own to it or say it. But his departure might be a relief to them, nevertheless. And therefore he went. His sensitiveness of honour shrank from his being a constructive inconvenience to a nation to whom he owed so much and for whom he cared so much. It was an instance of the disappointment imagination may cause in politics.*
* Some who read Mr. Morley's account of "Garibaldi's
Departure" in his "Life of Gladstone" will think that
Garibaldi did not require much imagination to see that he
was not wanted to stay in England. He heard, even from Mr.
Gladstone, words of solicitude for his health, if he visited
the many towns he had promised—and not one suggestion that
he should limit the number, which could do him no harm.
There could be but one inference from this and Garibaldi
drew it.
But Garibaldi was a poet as well as a soldier. Like the author of the "Marseillaise," Korner and Petofe, he could write inspiring verse, as witness his "Political Poem" in reply to one Victor Hugo wrote upon him, which Sir Edwin Arnold, the "Oxford Graduate" of that day, translated in 1868. Those do not understand Garibaldi who fail to recognise that he had poetic as well as martial fire.*
* Both poems, the one by Hugo and Garibaldi's in reply, were
published with a preface by the present writer.