"Now opens before us," says the great writer on ancient Italy, "that
splendid region in which man grew to grander stature than in any other
part of the world, and displayed prodigies of energy and moral judgment.
We are about to enter that land consecrated by heroic virtues, from
which came a light of empire that illumined the universe. To that proud
life has since succeeded deep death; and now in many places of ancient
majesty you will find nought but ruins--monuments of departed grandeur
amidst vast deserts of death--dreary solitude, and the decayed
achievements of man. The city of the rulers of the world fell, but the
remains of her past glories can not be destroyed. They have for ages
sent, and still send forth a mighty voice, which breaks the silence of
her grave, proclaiming the greatness of those ancient inhabitants.
The country of the Latins is desolate, but grand in its desolation; an
austere nature adds solemnity to the vacant sites of the cities, their
sepulchres, and relics. In the midst of a wilderness, at every step,
one meets with tokens of a bygone power that overawes the imagination.
Frequently, in the same spot, on the same stone, the traveller reads the
record of the joys and the sorrows of generations divided by prodigious
intervals of time. Here, also, are to be seen the columns of those
temples in which the priests of old, with their auguries and idols,
deceived the people, and reduced them to moral slavery.
"In this, however, little is changed; for farther on may be viewed
modern temples, in which religion is still made an instrument of
infamous tyranny. Sadnesses ancient and sadnesses modern blend together;
memories of past dominations, and tokens of dominations ruling down to
the present day.
"If the far-off cry of the wretched plebeians whom the savage
aristocracy of a past age precipitated from the cliff, makes us shudder,
shall we not feel something akin to this when we hear the cry of living
victims of Popish fury imprisoned in dungeons in our own day? Mingled
with the ashes of the leaders of the ancient people, you may here dig
up those of the martyrs of our own age, who shed their blood for the
new Republic, and fell protesting against the bitter dominion of the
priesthood; and pondering over these memories, antique and recent, each
true Roman may draw comfort for his afflicted soul, seeing that,
in spite of the passage of centuries, and the debasing strength of
tyrannies, the children of Rome, far as they are from her heroic days,
have never quite lost the energy of their forefathers, and thence, on
this soil of auguries each may rightly draw the joyful presage that now,
as then, the genius of this sublime country will never long leave her to
such shameful vicissitudes."
This noble and patriotic piece we have introduced to aid in the
difficult task of depicting the Rome of heroic times along with the
living but paralyzed virtues of modern Latium. We may thus proceed to
discuss that strange and sad heterogeneous band, native and foreign,
which forms what is called "the Roman army." What manner of men are
those who dedicate themselves to the service of a government like that
of "Pio Nono"--a service that can not fail to inspire an honest man with
disgust? And here, we may repeat, none but a priesthood could have
so degraded a people, and placed them on a level with the basest upon
earth--a people, too, born in a region where they have attained to
greater perfection of manhood than in any other part of the known world.
The "Roman army," so called, is at present composed partly of Romans,
under the observation of foreign soldiery, and partly of foreign
soldiers under the sway of foreign commanders, while the people
themselves are under the protection (or rather subjection) of a set of
scoundrels called gendarmes. For what are these hired mercenaries but
knaves thirsting for profit, who, without principle and without honor,
enter this disgraceful service? The title, therefore, of "Papal soldier"
is by no means a martial distinction, but one despised by a true man;
while, on the other hand, the foreign interloper, scoundrel though he
be in embracing so dishonorable a calling, despises none the less the
native soldiery, whom he is called upon to aid and abet. Hence, the
native soldier and the foreign hireling (not being in the true sense of
the term brothers in arms) frequently come to blows, when the foreigner
usually comes off second best, for, in spite of the influence of the
priesthood to render the Roman soldiery degenerate and corrupt, some
remains at least of their ancient valor still exist.
This is the condition of the Roman army of the day, and thus the reason
why it was despised by the "proscribed," who informed themselves of its
movements, and quietly waited its approach. In the case of the impending
assault upon Orazio's castle, time was lost by the quarrels which
prevailed as usual in it. The foreigners looking with contempt upon the
native soldiers, claimed to have the right wing in the assault assigned
them; but the natives, not fearing foreigners, and believing themselves,
with reason, to be superior to them in the ait of war, resolutely
refused to concede this honor to alien troops. The priests, too,
impotent to restore order, begun to gnaw their nails at such junctures
with impatience, rage, and fear.
Easter day, then--the day destined for the destruction of "the
brigands"--would most probably have seen the extermination of these
mercenaries had not the "Moderates" raised the cry of "Order and
brotherhood!" And thus this fine opportunity for finishing off a set of
knaves--the plague and dishonor of Italy--was lost.
Regolo, with the greater number of the Three Hundred, seeing they could
do nothing of themselves, for some time, towards the liberation of Rome,
had enlisted in the ranks of the Pontifical troops, according to the
orders received from outside, and were active in influencing the Romans
to demand the honor of conducting the right wing in the order of march.
This being disputed, they mutinied, and ill-treated their officers.
General D------ was sent with a company of foreigners to restore order,
but the strife was almost as serious as in a pitched battle, and the
foreigners fled discomfited to their barracks.
The chief instigator of the mutiny was our old acquaintance, Dentato,
the sergeant of dragoons. Being released from the pains and penalties
inflicted upon him by the Inquisition, which he had sustained with a
stoicism worthy of the olden times, he resolved to be revenged upon his
persecutors at the first opportunity, and did not fail to make good use
of this occasion. At the head of his dragoons (for he had been restored
to his post), sabre in hand, he plunged into the thickest of the fray,
and made serious havoc amongst the foreign troops. The affair over,
knowing what to expect at the hands of his masters, he set out from Rome
without dismounting, accompanied by the better part of his men, sought
out the proscribed in the forest, who received him most cordially, and
heard with satisfaction the account of his adventures in the capital.