Part 13

After the fall of Napoleon in 1815 there was a determination among the sovereigns of Europe to strengthen their position and prevent any progressive movements which might lead to a breach between the peoples and their rulers. This was due to a fear and dislike of the ideas which had brought about the great Revolution in France. The Austrian Minister Metternich was very powerful, and exercised a great influence far beyond his own country. He was more than conservative: he was reactionary, and did all in his power to repress any signs of revolution. For a time he was successful, and all opponents of established government were treated with the greatest severity. But he did not succeed in dispelling the restlessness and discontent. He only drove it beneath the surface and increased its force, so that when it broke out it carried all before it. Ideas with regard to liberty, human rights, and nationality spread rapidly, and by 1830 there were in half the countries of Europe bodies of exasperated men who were ready to sacrifice their lives to fight against the injustices of autocratic rule. The consequence of this was that two waves of revolution spread over Europe: the first about 1830, the second in 1848, when Metternich, finding his policy utterly defeated, fled into exile.

We are here concerned only with the case of Italy. What we know now as the kingdom of Italy was formerly divided up into many separate States. In the north the provinces of Lombardy and Venice belonged to Austria; Piedmont and the island of Sardinia formed the kingdom of Sardinia; there were Grand Dukes of Parma, Modena, and Tuscany; the Pope ruled over the Papal States, which stretched across the middle of Italy; and the lower part of the boot and the island of Sicily formed the kingdom of Naples and the two Sicilies. These States quarreled with one another, and in many of them the people suffered from bad government. Gradually the idea grew that the Austrians must be driven out and a united Italy established—one country ruled by one Government. But it took more than forty years to accomplish this.

It requires three sorts of minds to bring about a great change of this sort. The people must be educated, and when educated their indignation must be controlled, so that its full force may be felt at the right moment. Those who cling to the old order of things must be overthrown, and the new order must be firmly established so as to be lasting. In fact, you want a man of ideas, a man of action, and a statesman, not necessarily acting together, but keeping the same object in view.

Italy was singularly fortunate in this respect. There emerged at the critical period, among the many who were ready to serve the cause, three outstanding figures: Mazzini, the man of ideas; Garibaldi, the man of action; and Cavour, the statesman. The man of action and the statesman are likely to get the most credit when the great decisive actions in the final stages of a successful revolution take place. But the work of the reformer, who in the earlier and more difficult times sees a spark of light in the darkness and proceeds patiently, with the whole weight of public opinion against him, to preach, educate, and prepare the ground, is certainly more difficult and in some ways perhaps even more admirable.

Giuseppe Mazzini was born in Genoa in 1805. His father was a doctor who devoted much of his time to unpaid service of the poor, and his mother was a woman of strong character who took a close interest in the great political movements of the time. Giuseppe was a studious and thoughtful boy, but delicate in health. He noticed how his parents treated with equal courtesy people from all ranks of life; he listened to reminiscences of the French Republican wars and read the praises of the democratic form of government in the pages of Greek and Roman history. There was no question of conversion with him. His sympathies grew naturally in favor of popular government as against the rule of despotic princes. When he was sixteen the collapse of a rising in Piedmont made such a deep impression on him that he neglected his lessons and insisted on dressing in black, a habit he kept up to the end of his life.

To his father’s disappointment he showed himself quite unfit to become a doctor; the very sight of an operation made him faint. He was allowed, therefore, to study law, and at the same time foreign literature, history, and poetry occupied a great part of his time. He was also very fond of music. Except on rare occasions when he went to the theater, he spent his evenings at home with his mother after going, during the day, for long solitary walks. While doing useful work as the poor man’s lawyer, he began to write reviews and essays for the newspapers. But his articles became so advanced in tone that two of the newspapers to which he contributed were suppressed.

As a consequence of the rapid growth of discontent against the misgovernment of the petty Sovereigns of the States of Italy, a secret revolutionary body had been formed, which was known as the Carbonari (the word means “charcoal burners,” of which there were many in the mountains of Calabria). It was a sort of Freemasons’ Society. Mazzini disapproved of the mysteries and theatrical forms in which the members indulged, but as it was the only revolutionary organization in the country, he became a member and swore the usual oath of initiation over a bared dagger. He worked for them zealously, but his intention was to form a far more vigorous association. The Government had their eye on the Carbonari, and Mazzini was arrested and sent to prison. In his prison room at Savona he had much time for reflection. He gazed upon the sky and sea and read the only three books permitted to him, the Bible, Byron, and Tacitus. Here it was that he thought out the organization of a new society, the aim of which was to be the liberation of Italy from tyranny and its unification under a republican form of government. This society was “Young Italy,” which became famous throughout Europe; its motto was “God and the people.” A further unsuccessful insurrection of the Carbonari convinced Mazzini of the necessity of his new scheme. When, however, he was set free, so many restrictions were placed on his liberty that he decided to live at Marseilles. Here, with a few others, in one single room, he worked for two years with the most astonishing industry.

His famous letter to Charles Albert, King of Sardinia, was written from Marseilles. In it he urged the King to take the lead in the impending struggle for Italian independence. All over Italy a great sensation was produced by this letter, but the Sardinian Government was deeply offended, and his arrest was ordered should he cross the frontier. He also issued the manifesto of Young Italy, and in response to it, members joined from all parts of Italy. But a complaint was made to the French Government, and Mazzini was obliged to retire from Marseilles and take refuge in Switzerland.

A great blow came to him which affected both his health and his mind. His greatest friend, Jacopo Ruffini, was one of the leaders in an unsuccessful rising in Genoa. He was captured with several others and executed. For a time Mazzini was dismayed, but his unflagging energy kept him at work, and from Geneva he organized a band of exiles which included Germans and Poles as well as Italians, and the invasion of Savoy was planned. Mazzini accompanied the expedition himself, but the attack broke down without a single shot being fired.

Time after time the efforts of this irrepressible enthusiast were destined to fail. He had to work in secret, and little by little he acquired the habit of plotting and scheming and adopted the methods of a conspirator. But he never lost sight of his great ideal, and in spite of severe trials and cruel disappointments he was able to retain in his deeply religious nature a lofty and high-minded purpose. Mazzini was a most striking man in appearance. Of medium height and slightly built, his outward air of quiet melancholy concealed an inward burning passion, which only shone out through the fire in his eyes. He had a dark olive complexion, with black hair and beard. He always wore a black, tight-fitting frock-coat, with a black silk handkerchief round his neck in place of a collar. Except for his mother, women played a very small part in Mazzini’s life. One woman, who was a widow called Giudetta Sidoli, kept up an affectionate correspondence with him for a time, but there was never any question of their marrying. His work, his poverty, and his restless wandering made it impossible for him to settle down as a married man.

After forming a “Young Europe” association of men who believed in liberty, equality, and fraternity for all mankind, and after issuing a newspaper called _Young Switzerland_ he was forced by the authorities to leave Switzerland, and he took refuge in England. As a lover of the beauties of nature, he complained at first at having to go to what he called “the sunless and musicless island.” “We have lost,” he wrote from London, “even the sky which the veriest wretch on the Continent can look at.” In time, however, he came to regard with great affection the country which has been a home and refuge to many disconsolate wanderers and outcasts from foreign lands.

Mazzini came to England in 1837, and was obliged to live at first in great poverty. But he had not come to rest. It was always a hard struggle for him. After a heated correspondence with his father, he ceased to receive any money from home, and he got into such low water that he actually had to pawn his rings, his watch, his books, and even on one occasion his boots and waistcoat, in order to get money for food. His generosity to others who were still worse off than himself made things more difficult. In the winter he risked his health by giving away his only overcoat. At last he had to go to moneylenders. It was indeed a desolate and miserable period for him, and had it not been for the great spirit within him, he might have broken down completely in despair. But he battled on, learned the English language, wrote articles for English newspapers, and began to make English friends. His sympathies were always on the side of the destitute and the downtrodden; he taught in an evening school for poor Italian children, and worked to prevent small boys of poverty-stricken parents in Southern Italy being brought to England by scoundrels who made them grind organs.

His first close English friendship was with the great writer, Thomas Carlyle, and his wife. “They love me as a brother,” he wrote, “and would like to do me more good than it is in their power to do.” He liked Carlyle’s open nature and broad views, but they often had heated arguments. “He may preach the merit of holding one’s tongue,” said the Italian, “but the merit of silence is not his.” Mrs. Carlyle was at first very sympathetic and interested in his political views, but after a while she, like her husband, expressed disapproval of his revolutionary ideas. However, he continued to be a frequent caller, coming in all weathers, “his doeskin boots oozing out water upon the carpets in a manner frightful to behold.”

Two or three years later, the breach between the two men widened, and they saw no more of one another. But Carlyle retained his respect for the strange Italian exile, who he declared was the most pious man he had ever met.

In many other English families Mazzini was received with warm cordiality. He wrote a great deal and completed the greater part of the finest of all his works, “The Duties of Man.” But Italy was always in his thoughts; he kept in constant communication with the Italian leaders, for he dreaded dying with his work undone. It was during this period that the British Home Secretary, Sir John Graham, ordered Mazzini’s letters to be opened as they passed through the British Post Office, and communicated their contents to the Neapolitan Government. A great stir was caused by this. There were debates in Parliament, a Committee of Inquiry was appointed, and Mazzini’s character was successfully vindicated. This episode, which was very discreditable to the British Government, brought him many new friends.

In 1848 the good news came of the rising in North Italy and the expulsion of the Austrians from Venice and Lombardy. A flood of patriotism spread over Italy, and volunteers poured to the front from all parts. Mazzini immediately hurried to Milan, where he was received in triumph as the prophet who had been cast out, but who had preached and suffered while others fell away and doubted. Fighting continued, but the King, Charles Albert, was a timid man, quite incapable of dealing in a masterful way with the situation that had arisen. He was willing to consult Mazzini, but the enthusiastic reformer would have no dealings with him. He refused for a moment to set aside his hatred of monarchy, which he described as “a hereditary lie.” This was not the only instance in which his zeal for the republican form of government prevented him from co-operating with others who were just as eager as he was for a united Italy.

The war continued. The Austrians gained victories and Milan was occupied. Mazzini shouldered a rifle and served in a small force under Garibaldi. Meanwhile, in Central Italy, the Pope had fled and Rome was declared a republic. Three men were appointed to take over the government with supreme powers. Of this triumvirate Mazzini was a member. The opportunity had come for him to display his powers as a ruler, and to put into practical form the theories about which he had written and preached so much; but it proved to be short. Nevertheless, he managed to deal with a difficult situation with the utmost skill, showing wisdom and moderation, erring, if anything, on the side of leniency toward his enemies. He adopted none of the pomp and ceremony of a ruler, but lived with austere simplicity, unguarded, and accessible to all who wished to approach him. By this mild authority he maintained order in the city, and he might have succeeded in setting up good government in a permanent form, had it not been for the intervention of France. The attack on the Romans by Louis Napoleon has been described as one of the meanest political crimes, and indeed there was no excuse for it. The siege lasted nearly a month, and the city fell. The victors entered Rome. Garibaldi with three thousand followers refused to surrender and retreated. Mazzini fled the country. So ended his brief experience as a ruler.

He could not remain in Switzerland; he therefore returned to London. The death of his mother in 1852 came as a great blow to him. He had seen her in Milan and had always kept in close correspondence with her. “I have now no mother on earth except my country,” he wrote, “and I shall be true to her as my mother has been true to me.” She left him a small annuity, so that although he was poor, he was not in the desperate state of want he had been in formerly. He had to live very simply, however, his cigars being his only luxury. His most constant companions were his tame linnets and canaries, which perched about on his head and shoulders and hopped about among his papers in the thick, smoky atmosphere of his one room. He was very much appreciated and respected by many prominent men of the time, and his endeavor to enlist English sympathy for his political schemes was not unsuccessful.

It was perhaps a pity that Mazzini did not devote the remainder of his days to literary work, for as a writer he would certainly have made a great mark. His work as an agitator ceased to be useful or even helpful. The course of events showed that if Italian Unity was to be won it must be under the leadership of Victor Emmanuel, who had succeeded Charles Albert as King of Piedmont and Sardinia, and was prepared to come forward as the leader of the movement. Gallant little Piedmont continued to be the leading spirit of the States of Italy. Cavour, the statesman, a man of very different stamp from Mazzini, worked slowly and patiently in the one direction in which he saw success was possible. He despised Mazzini and his doctrines, and probably regarded him as a nuisance. The practical, capable, hard-headed man of affairs found no use for the enthusiast and the agitator, and did not even recognize the great services which the idealist had rendered in preparing and educating the mind of the people. Mazzini, on the other hand, suspected Cavour and mistrusted him, and doggedly refused to abandon his hope of a republican form of government. He thought a united Italy would succeed best if monarchy were abolished; and in this belief perhaps he may only have been rather in advance of his times. All the time he overestimated the strength of his own following and ignored the true state of affairs. This was partly due to his enforced exile, which kept him out of contact with the movements in Italy. With Garibaldi, the great man of action, his relations were also strained. They never saw eye to eye, and constantly differed as to the best course to take. Garibaldi believed in the King. Mazzini could never get over his engrained prejudice against monarchy. Garibaldi was irritated with Mazzini and called him “the great doctrinaire.” But although they so often found it impossible to act together, they became reconciled in the end, and each recognized the other’s great talents and services.

Mazzini was accused of encouraging political assassination. Many charges were brought against him which were absolutely false, and he was wrongly suspected of being at the back of various plots which were discovered for the assassination of Victor Emmanuel and Louis Napoleon. He had indeed said that exceptional moments might arise when the killing of a tyrant might be the only means of putting an end to the intolerable oppression. In his early days, too, a young man came to him with a plan for the assassination of the King, Charles Albert. Mazzini, having failed to dissuade him, helped him on his journey and sent him a dagger. But in late life he not only vigorously discouraged plots of this sort, but actually stopped them. It is true, however, that his attempts to justify violence on certain occasions, and the arguments he used, came sadly below the noble ideas he held as to the sacredness of human life.

Napoleon III he hated as much as he did the Austrians. For a moment he was hopeful, after the French victory of Solferino in 1859, and thought the Austrian domination of Italy was at an end. But when the peace of Villafranca came, by which Venetia was abandoned to the enemy, and Cavour resigned, he voiced the feeling of his country when he denounced the betrayal and treachery of the French Emperor. He hurried out to Florence, but the people dreaded any repetition of his unsuccessful risings, and he found he was powerless. Cavour became chief minister again, and Garibaldi began to lay his plans for the action which was to be eventually the determining factor in the liberation of Italy. Mazzini welcomed Garibaldi’s leadership, and was ready to keep himself in the background. But his suspicion of Cavour, his want of proper information, and his occasional untimely interference made him useless at this period of the struggle. He kept on dividing opinion at a time when united action was the one obvious means of achieving success. “Even against your wish you divide us,” said one of Garibaldi’s followers to him at Naples, where he was trying to make the people insist on an Italian National Assembly drawing up a new Constitution under the King. At last, worn out in mind and body, he left Naples after having a friendly interview with Garibaldi. It was not his jealousy of successful rivals that made Mazzini so difficult to work with in these critical times. It was his fear that others could not carry out the great object in view unless they worked on his lines and shared his distrust of the rule of kings and the intrigues of statesmen. He refused to see that the royalists were as seriously bent on unity as he was himself. He became a broken and disappointed man, believing he had failed, and despondent as to the future.

Unity was not yet complete: Rome and Venetia were still to be won. On his return to England in 1860, Mazzini was content to suspend any open republican agitation, but he kept up a good deal of secret correspondence. His health began to break down, but his will-power was still very strong. “It is absurd to be ill,” he said, “while nations are struggling for liberty.” Victor Emmanuel had some private communications with him, for, curiously enough, the two men had a certain fascination for each other. The King shared the great agitator’s hatred of Austria and his impatient desire to see the nationalities of Eastern Europe set free. But nothing came of this. Victor Emmanuel, who was now the figurehead of the whole movement, was a rough, good-natured, rather stupid man, who by his qualities as a soldier won the loyalty and devotion of his people. He was essentially a man of action, and military fame attracted him more than anything else. When Garibaldi visited England he had an enthusiastic reception from the public. Mazzini conferred with him, collected money for him, and went as far as Lugano with the intention of supporting him when the volunteers crossed from Sicily for the march on Rome. But he went no further.

There was fighting again in 1866. The Italians were defeated, and Napoleon III concluded a peace by which the Austrians ceded Venetia to him, and he handed it over to Italy. This was rather a humiliating conclusion of this part of the struggle, and Mazzini resented it. In spite of the failure of so many of his efforts, he appeared to many of his fellow-countrymen as a distant and rather wonderful figure, surrounded by an atmosphere of mystery, with the one thought of his beloved country ever in his mind. Their confidence and respect for him were shown by the fact that forty thousand people signed the petition for his amnesty—that is to say, his return to Italy; but when at last it was granted he refused to take his seat as a deputy in Parliament, for although he had been duly elected by Messina he would not take the oath of allegiance to the monarchy.

The republic now came to be a more important object to him than unity. He plotted and schemed, and went so far as to intrigue with Bismarck in order to get the help of Germany in what would have been a civil war. He admired Bismarck’s tremendous determination, and he believed in German unity, but he added, “I abhor the Empire and the supremacy it arrogates over Europe.”

Here is a description of the Italian political idealist by one of the secret committee of Genoa, where each man came to the meeting armed with a revolver: “A low knock was heard at the door, and there he was in body and soul, the great Magician, who struck the fancy of the people like a mythical hero. Our hearts leaped, and we went reverently to meet that great soul. He advanced with a child’s frank courtesy and a divine smile, shaking hands like an Englishman and addressing each one of us by name, as if our names were written on our foreheads. He was not disguised; he wore cloth shoes and a capote, and with his middle, upright stature he looked like a philosopher straight from his study, who never dreamed of troubling any police in the world.”

All his plots broke down, and again he was imprisoned at Palermo. Here he read a great deal, smoked incessantly bad cigars, and laid the schemes of fresh books. When Rome was captured he was released. Italian unity was accomplished, but because Italy was not republican, Mazzini felt his dream was spoilt.