Chapter 17

The feast of San Giuseppe is the only _festa_ day in Lent, when the Romans eat fried fish in honour of the occasion,--St Joseph alone knows why. Henceforth the day will have other and less pleasing associations. The garland-wreathed stalls, with the open ovens and the frizzling fritters, were reared as usual at every corner; the shops were closed; the _osterias_ were full; the streets were crowded with holiday-people in holiday-attire, and the day was warm and bright like an early summer-day in England, though it was only the 19th of March. The news of the Romagna elections, with their overwhelming majority in favour of annexation to Sardinia, had been just received in Rome with general exultation. No doubt the festive appearance which marked the city throughout the day was not altogether accidental, but was meant for, and regarded as, an expression of public sympathy with the revolted provinces. St Joseph happens to be the patron saint of the two great Italian popular heroes, Garibaldi and Mazzini, and a demonstration on this day was therefore considered to be in honour of the Three Josephs, the Saint and his two proteges. It was known generally that the adherents of the Liberal party would muster, as usual, on the Porta Pia road, and that the more courageous partizans of the popular cause would be distinguished by wearing a violet in their button-holes.

The Government had, it seems, decided that even these tacit expressions of disaffection must be suppressed at all costs. With a happy irony of cruelty which appears to distinguish a priestly despotism above every other, the holiday of St Joseph was chosen as the opportunity for striking terror into the hearts of the disloyal Romans; and as the policy which sent out the executioner to excite the populace had not been crowned with its coveted success, it was resolved to create a collision between the police and the people. In the morning, five Roman gentlemen of position and fortune, suspected of sympathy with the liberal cause, received notice that they were exiled from the Papal States, and must leave the city within twenty-four hours. Amongst these gentlemen was St Angeli, who, not long ago, was arrested and imprisoned without charge or trial, and who was but lately released on the remonstrance of the French authorities. There was also Count Silverstrelli, a brother of the gentleman of that name so well known to English sportsmen at Rome. The news of these arrests did not check the proposed demonstration. Towards four o'clock a considerable number of carriages and persons on foot assembled outside the gates on the Via Nomentana; some patrols, however, of French soldiers were found to be stationed along the road; and as it is the great object of the liberal leaders at Rome to avoid any possibility even of collision between the people and the French troops, it was resolved to adjourn the place of assemblage to the Corso. Whether this was a thought suggested on the moment, or whether it was the result of a preconcerted plan, is a mooted question not likely to be decided; the resolution, however come to, was acted on at once. Neither here, nor elsewhere, I may observe, was there anything of a tumultuous crowd, or the slightest apparent approach to agitation on the part of the multitude. All a spectator could observe was, that the carriages turned homewards somewhat nearer to the gates than usual, and that the stream of people who sauntered idly along the footpath, as on any other _festa_ day, set out earlier than they are wont to do on their return to the city.

About six o'clock the crowd from the Porta Pia had reassembled in the Corso. Six o'clock is always the fullest time in that street; private carriages are coming back from the Pincio promenade, and strangers are driving back to their hotels from the rounds of sight-seeing. The Corso, without doubt, was unusually and densely crowded; the footpaths swarmed with passengers, and, what was peculiarly galling to the Government, after the failure of the Carnival, there was a double line of aristocratic carriages passing up and down; still everything was perfectly peaceable and orderly. At the hour of the _Ave Maria_ the crowd was at its fullest, and this was the time selected for the outrage. In a scene of general terror and confusion it is impossible to ascertain exact details of the order in which events occurred, but I believe the following account is fairly exact.

There were a great number of the Pontifical police, or _sbirri_, as the Romans call them, scattered in knots of two or three about the Corso; there were also several mounted patrols of the Papal gendarmes. The police did everything in their power to excite the people, hustled the crowd in every direction, used the most opprobrious epithets, and pushed their way along with insulting gestures. There are various stories afloat as to the immediate cause of the outbreak; one, that as a patrol passed the crowd hissed; another, that a cry was heard of "Viva Vittorio Emmanuele!" and a third, the Papal version, that on a young man of the name of Barberi being asked by a gendarme why he wore a violet flower on his coat, he answered rudely, and, on the officer trying to arrest him, his comrades pulled him away. All stories agree, that the provocation to the police was given in the Piazza Colonna; and the disturbance, if any, was so trivial, that a friend of mine, who was on the spot at the time, perceived nothing of it, and only fancies he heard a murmur as the police rode by. The provocation, whatever it was, was sufficient as a pretext for the premeditated outrage. The _sbirri_ drew their swords, and slashing right and left, charged the dense crowds of men, women and children. The word was given, and a band of some twenty Papal dragoons, who had been drawn up hard by at the Monte Citorio, waiting under arms for the signal, galloped down the Corso, clearing their way with drawn swords. The _sbirri_ along the street pulled out their cutlass-knives; the dragoons rode on the footway, and struck out at the carriages filled with ladies as they passed by, while the police ran a-muck (I can use no other word) amongst the terror-stricken crowd. The cries of the crushed and wounded, the terror of the women, and the savage, brutal fury of the police, added to the panic and confusion of the scene. Not the slightest attempt at resistance was made by the unarmed crowd; in a few minutes the Corso was cleared as if by magic, and order reigned in Rome.

Short as the time was, the havoc wrought was very considerable. Nearer two than one hundred persons were injured in all. Of course the greater number of these persons were not actually wounded, but crushed, or stunned, or thrown down. There was no respect of persons in the use made of their swords by the police. Three French officers of the 40th, who were in plain clothes amongst the crowd, were cut down and severely wounded. An Irish gentleman, the brother of the member for Fermanagh, narrowly escaped a sabre-cut by dodging behind a pillar. The son of Prince Piombino was pursued by a gendarme beneath the gateway of his own palace, and only got off with his hat slit right in two. Persons were hunted down by the soldiery even out of the Corso. One gentleman, an Italian, was chased up the Via Condotti by a dragoon with his sword drawn, and saved himself from a sabre-cut by taking refuge in a passage. Some of the dragoons rode down the Via Ripetta, when they had come to the top of the Corso, and cut down a woman who was passing by. As soon as the Corso was cleared, the gendarmes went into the different cafes along the street, and ordered all persons, who were found in them, to go home at once. In one case an infirm old man, who could not make off fast enough, had his face cut open by a sabre-blow; while the backs of the gendarmes' swords were used plentifully to expedite the departure of the cafe frequenters. The exact number of wounded it is of course impossible to ascertain. Persons who received injuries were afraid to show themselves, and still more to call attention to their injuries, for fear of being arrested for disaffection and immured in prison. If I believed the stories I heard on good authority and on most positive assurance, I should put down the number of persons who died from wounds or injuries received during the melee at from twelve to fifteen. Still, long experience has led me to place very little reliance on any Roman story I cannot test; and I am bound to say, I could not sift any one of these stories to the bottom. On the other hand, this fact by no means causes me to disbelieve that fatal injuries may have been received. The extreme difficulty, if not impossibility, of obtaining true information on such a point may be realized from the circumstance, that a government official was, within my knowledge, dismissed from his post for merely visiting one of the victims who had been wounded by the police. By all accounts, even by that of the Papal partizans, the number of severe injuries inflicted was very considerable; indeed it is impossible it should have been otherwise, when one considers that along a street so crowded that the carriages could only move at a foot's pace, the gendarmes on horse and foot charged recklessly, cutting at every one they could reach. In my statement, however, of the casualties, I have sought to assert, not what I believe, but only what (as far as one can speak with certainty of what one did not actually see) I know to be the truth.

The worst part of the whole story, in my opinion, was the subsequent conduct of the Government. These outrages, which might have been excused as the result of an unforeseen disturbance, obtained in cold blood the deliberate sanction of the Vatican. The Papal gendarmes received the personal acknowledgments of the Pope for their conduct. The six horsemen who distinguished themselves by clearing the Piazza Colonna were promoted for their services, and all the police on duty that day received extra pay. With unusual promptitude, in fact not more than a week after the event, the _Giornale di Roma_ contained an official statement of the occurrence. After alleging that hitherto they had considered the unpleasant event of too small importance to deserve notice, they proceed to give the following narrative.

"On Monday, the 19th instant, in the course of the afternoon, the revolutionary faction proposed to make a demonstration in the Corso against the Pontifical Government, by an assemblage of persons hired for the express purpose. On the discovery of these designs, fitting arrangements were made in concert with the French police; and the French troops, as well as the Papal gendarmes, were drawn up, so that in case of need they might suppress any disturbance whatever.

"In fact, about five o'clock in the afternoon crowds were formed in the streets, directed by leaders, and amongst these leaders were two hide-tanners, whom the gendarmes arrested with promptitude. The crowd, thus raked together, then began to hoot at and insult the gendarmes, and at last attempted to rescue the prisoners. Not succeeding in this attempt, the rioters, whose numbers had now been swollen by a lot of idle fellows from the vilest rabble, crowded together into the Piazza Colonna, and continued to outrage the officers of public justice with every kind of insult. Thereupon a handful of police advanced courageously against the rioters, and proved quite sufficient to disperse and rout them.

"The friends of order applauded the gallant gendarmes in the execution of their duty. In less than an hour the most perfect quiet reigned around, and in the affray a very few persons were injured, whose injuries have proved to be of slight consequence."

Throughout the whole of this document the _suppressio veri_ reigns supreme. It is ludicrous describing the _emeute_ as an event unworthy of special mention, when rewards and praises have been heaped by the Government on the heroes who distinguished themselves in the suppression of this contemptible fracas. In a city like Rome a crowd which filled the whole Corso's length cannot be described as a faction, while the occupants of the aristocratic carriages which lined both sides of the street are not likely to have had two hide-tanners for their leaders. The size of the crowd disposes at once of the idea that the persons who composed it were bribed to be present; and the attempt to identify the action of the French troops with that of the Papal gendarmes, is upset by the plain and simple fact, that the French patrols were on the Porta Pia road, and not in the Corso at all. Indeed, if the whole matter was not too serious to laugh at, there would be something actually comical in the notion of the friends of order, or any person in their senses, stopping to applaud the gendarmes as they trampled their way through the helpless, screaming, terror-stricken crowd, striking indiscriminately at friend or foe. The statement has this value, and this value only, that it gives the formal approval of the Government to the brutal outrages of the Papal police.

For a time the Pro-Papal party were in a state of high exultation. A popular demonstration had been suppressed by a score or so of Pontifical troops. The stock stories about the cowardice of the Italians were revived, and the more intemperate partizans of the Government asserted that the support of the French army was no longer needed, and that the Pope would shortly be able to rely for protection on his own troops alone. There was in these exultations a certain sad amount of truth. I am no blind admirer of the Romans, and I freely admit that no high-spirited crowd would have submitted to be cut down by a mere handful of gendarmes. I admit, too, that this blood-letting stopped for the time the fashion of demonstrations. It is however at best a doubtful compliment to a government that it has succeeded in crushing the spirit and energy of a nation; but to this compliment, I fear, the Papal rule is only too well entitled. "The lesson given on St Joseph's day," so wrote the organ of the Papacy in Paris, "has profited;" how, and to whom, time will show. Hardly, I think; at any rate, to the religion of love and mercy, or to those who preach its doctrines, and enforce its teachings by lessons such as this.