Next day, that is on the day of his departure, I went to see Garibaldi
at seven o’clock in the morning, and slept the night before in London on
purpose to do so. He was gloomy and abrupt. For the first time one could
see that he was accustomed to command, that he was an iron leader on the
field of battle and on the sea.
He was caught by some gentleman who had brought with him a bootmaker,
the inventor of a boot with an iron contrivance for Garibaldi. With
self-sacrificing resignation Garibaldi sat down in a low chair; the
shoemaker in the sweat of his brow forced his irons on him, then made him
stamp and walk a step; it seemed all right. ‘What must we pay him?’ asked
Garibaldi. ‘Upon my soul!’ answered the gentleman; ‘why, you will make
him happy if you accept it.’ They withdrew.
‘It will be put up over his shop in a day or two,’ some one observed,
while Garibaldi said with a supplicating expression to the young man who
waited upon him: ‘For God’s sake get this contrivance off me; I can’t
stand it, it hurts.’ It was frightfully funny.
Then the aristocratic ladies made their appearance; those of less
consequence were waiting in a crowd in the drawing-room.
Ogaryov and I went up to him. ‘Good-bye,’ I said. ‘Good-bye till we meet
in Caprera.’ He embraced me, sat down, stretched out both hands to us,
and, in a voice which cut us to the heart, said: ‘Forgive me, forgive me,
my head is going round. Come to Caprera,’ and once more he embraced us.
After the reception Garibaldi had to go for an interview with the Prince
of Wales at Stafford House.
We went out of the gate and separated. Ogaryov went to Mazzini, I went
to Rothschild. There was no one yet at Rothschild’s bank. I went to
St. Paul’s tavern, and there was no one there either. I asked for a
rump-steak, and, sitting down quite alone, went over the details of this
Midspring Night’s Dream.
Go, great child, great force, great fanatic and great simplicity! Go to
your rock, peasant in the red shirt! Go, King Lear! Goneril drives you
out; leave her, you have poor Cordelia. She will not cease to love you,
and she will not die!
The fourth act was over!
What is to come in the fifth?
_May 15, 1864._