Ok the day prefixed to this chapter, April, 1849, a foreign sergeant
was conducted a prisoner into the presence of the commander of the
Gianicolo. He had fallen into a Roman ambuscade during the night time
and, having been told by the priests that the defenders of Rome were so
many assassins, he threw himself upon his knees as soon as he was taken
before them, and begged them for the love of God to spare his life.
The commander extended his right hand to the suppliant, and raising
him, spoke comfortingly to him. "This is a good omen," said the Italian
officer to those of his companions present. "A good omen! Behold foreign
pride prostrate before Roman right--that is a sure sign of victory."
And truly, the foreign army which disembarked at Ci vita Vecchia, and
had fraudulently taken possession of the port, under the deceitfully
assumed title of friend, advanced on Rome, chuckling at the credulity,
as well as at the cowardice of the Roman people. That very army,
afterwards defeated by the native soldiers of the metropolis, retrod
with shame the road to the sea.
The 30th of April was a glorious day for Rome, and was not forgotten
among the Seven Hills. But how could it be commemorated amidst such an
armed rabble of enemies? In the small city of Viterbo, where there
were no troops, the inhabitants had devised a way of celebrating the
anniversary of the expulsion of the foreigner, and were making active
preparations. But if there were no troops, there were not wanting spies,
who informed the Roman Government of all that took place.
The Committee had arranged a programme for the feast, which set forth
that after mid-day all work should be suspended, and that all the young
people, in holiday dress, with a tri-colored ribbon bound round the
left arm, should assemble in the cathedral piazza, and walk thence four
abreast in procession to the Porta Romana, so as to pay a salutation of
good wishes from that point to the ancient mistress of the globe.
Frightened at this intelligence, the Roman Government dispatched to
Viterbo in hot haste a body of foreign troops which had only served the
priesthood a short time, with orders to suppress the demonstration at
any cost. Not heeding this measure the little town held its _festa_,
almost forgetting for a while, in the enjoyment of the moment, her long
period of slavery. The solemn salute at the Porta Romana was delivered
in spite of the urban authorities, and the procession was returning in
good order, preceded by a band playing the national hymns, while the
ladies--always more ardent than men in any generous act--stood in the
balconies cheering and waving their tricolored hankerchiefs to the
passers-by, when a column of foreign soldiers were seen advancing at the
_pas de charge_, with bayonets fixed. Until now the city, albeit under
the rule of the priests, had given herself up with peaceful mirth to the
remembrance of that joyful day. But joy fled when the soldiers invaded
the streets yet filled with youthful Viterbians, and anger and trouble
succeeded. A delegate of police, who, with a few assistants, preceded
the mercenaries, commanded the people to retire. This intimation was
received with hisses of defiance, and a few well-aimed stones put them
to flight. Taking refuge among the soldiers, they cried out to the
troops to fire upon the populace. This command of the cowardly delegate
was given because he wished to glut his vengeance, and also to secure
a decoration, which he could do by nothing so surely as killing the
people. When this inhuman order was not heeded, he feared the hatred
between the two opposing parties might cool, and desired the soldiers to
charge the populace with fixed bayonets.
The Viterbians, like all Roman citizens, had orders from the
Revolutionary Committee not to take active measures of hostility, and
were therefore not prepared for the straggle. They dispersed rapidly,
and escaped by byways to their homes, favored by the increasing
darkness of the evening, as well as by the sudden extinction of all
lights, which the women as if by an universal signal caused everywhere.
Thus the charge of the mercenaries took effect only upon a few stray
dogs and some donkeys on their way home, nor was any thing more tragic
heard than the barking of the former and the braying of the latter as
they were pursued by the valiant champions of the priesthood.
By ten o'clock all was quiet in Viterbo. The troops lay down in the
market-place, resting their heads upon their folded arms, preparing to
repose upon the laurels won by the fatigues and victory of the day. Not
a citizen was to be seen in the streets, all having retired to their
houses. At the hotel of the "Full Moon," the bell rang to assemble
the guests at a large round table spread with a dinner of about fifty
covers. As the bell sounded, a carriage and four drew up to the inn
door, and stopping at its gateway, a female clad in travelling costume
alighted. From the elasticity of her step and movements it was easy
to see she was young. The landlord hastened to receive her, and
respectfully inquired whether she would liked to be served with supper
in her own apartment, to which she replied that she would sup in the
public room, and in the mean time her sleep-ing-room was to be prepared.
The dining-room was already filled with visitors, the greater number of
whom were officers belonging to the recently arrived detachment. There
were also several strangers, both Italian and foreign, but very few
Viterbians present. When the traveller entered the room all eyes were
turned towards her with looks of admiration; and truly our Julia, for
it was she, appeared very lovely that eventful evening. She possessed to
perfection that intelligent and high-bred expression which distinguishes
her restless race. All made room for her. The Italians assumed an air of
polite admiration, and the officers, twirling the ends of their pointed
mustaches, straightened their shoulders and adjusted their facial
expression with the look of so many conquerors of female admiration.
At the head of the table sat the master of the house, elegantly dressed,
who prayed the beautiful Englishwoman to place herself by his side.
She accepted the seat, and the officers pressing forward to be near the
young lady, took possession of all the best places. Observing a Pope's
hireling on her right, Julia began to regret having accepted the
landlord's invitation, and while glancing round the table with a
chagrined air, was electrified by encountering Muzio's eyes fixed upon
her. He was seated between Attilio and Orazio at the end of the table.
They all three wore silk hats, cravats, and overcoats, like foreign
travellers, and Julia had foiled to recognize them at first, having
never seen Muzio but when wrapped in his cloak, or Attilio except in the
simple garb of an artist, and Orazio once only for a short time in the
forest when armed from head to foot. What should she do? Rise and go to
them, impulse suggested, and ask a thousand things which she wished to
know. But how could she venture to do this, when fifty pairs of eyes
were gazing at her, fascinated by her charming face.
And Muzio, the outcast, the gentleman, the chief of the counter-police;
the man who, like his namesake (Scavola), would have placed at his
Julia's sweet bidding not his hand only, but his head also upon burning
coals--what joy the meeting brought, and yet what agony to see the star
of his life, his goddess, his hope, seated at the side of a foreign
soldier, the instrument of a vile tyranny, and compelled to accept
civilities from his contaminated hand, perhaps freshly soiled by the
blood of Romans. Oh, you young men, who are in love with a noble maiden,
have you not felt what splendid new strength her presence gives to you?
When unworthy men presume to affront her with attentions, at such a
moment do you not feel you have ten hearts to devote to her, ten men's
lives to sacrifice for her? If not you are a coward, and a coward, let
us tell you, is despised by women.
You may sin, and she will pardon you; but cowardice a noble woman will
never forgive. Muzio, however, was only too loving and rash; and woe to
that fine lady-killer by the British maiden's side! Had the Roman youth
yielded to the dictates of his angry breast, it wanted little to have
seen a flash of fire in the air, or to have let him feel the cold blade
of a dagger in his vitals.
But Julia read in her lover's eye the storm that was raging, and her
look, perceived by him alone, calmed down the Roman's passionate soul.
Between the courses, the foreign officers conversed on the affairs of
Rome, or the topics of the day, and, as usual, with but little respect
for the Roman people, whom they commonly despised. Julia, disgusted by
their indecorous conversation, rose very soon, with a majestic mien, and
desired to be conducted to her apartment. Our three friends were burning
to kiss her hand, and had even made a move to quit their places, when
a sudden burst of laughter from the foreign officers made them resume
their seats. The laughter was caused by a coarse jest, uttered by one
of the number, of which the following words came to the ears of our
indignant trio:--"I thought I was coming to Viterbo to use my arms
against men, but find there are only rabbits here, who bolted into their
burrows at our very appearance. Diavolo! where are all these Liberals
who made such a noise?"
Attilio, who had not reseated himself, hastily gathered his own and his
friends' gloves, and, making them into a handful, threw them, without a
word, full and hard in the face of the slanderer.
"Oh!" exclaimed the Papalino, "what bundle is here?" and picking up the
missile, he unrolled the gloves, saying, "So, then, I am challenged by
three! Here is another sample of Italian valor! Three against one! three
against one!" And again the fellow laughed immoderately.
The three allowed this fresh burst of merriment to pass, but the
hilarity of all the strangers present being aroused by it, Muzio, as
soon as the laughter ceased, cried in a loud voice, "Three against as
many as dare to insult Italians, gentlemen!"
The effect of these few words was very startling, for, as he uttered
them, the three friends arose and darted angry glances first at one and
then at another of the officers, presenting, with their uncovered and
bold young heads, to the assembly three models a la Michael-Angelo. They
were three variations of that manly and martial beauty which nature's
heroes have; three types of noble anger in the glowing veins of generous
courage.
Different effects were produced on the two parties present. The Italians
at the table were delighted, and regarded the champions of Italian honor
with smiling approbation and gratitude.
The foreigners remained for a time stupefied, wondering at the personal
grace and manly beauty of the trio, and at their nervous and proud
bearing. This amazement ended, sarcasm came to the rescue, and one of
the youngest exclaimed, "Friends, a toast!" All rose, glass in hand, and
he continued: "I drink to the fortune of having at last found enemies
worthy of us in this country!"
Orazio responded, "I drink to the liberation of Rome from foreign
filth."
These words seemed to the officers to be too insulting to be overlooked,
and they placed their hands menacingly upon their swords; but one of the
number, of a maturer age, said gravely, "My friends, it will not answer
to make a disturbance here. The peace of the city must not be disturbed,
for we came here to restore order. At daybreak we will meet in even
numbers these quarrelsome signors. What we have to do is to see that
they do not then deprive us of the honor of meeting them.
"The opportunity of fighting the enemies of Italy is much too happy a
circumstance to let it escape," answered Attilio. "If it please you we
will remain together until morning, when we can walk in company to the
place of meeting."
To this proposition all consented. The foreigners called for writing
materials, to inscribe their names, in order to draw lots to decide who
should fight. Amongst the Italians three gentlemen offered to be seconds
to their countrymen. Then there were the arms to be considered. As there
had been such open defiance on both sides, it was decided that they
should fight to the death, that the opponents should be placed at a
distance of fifteen paces apart, and that at a signal from their seconds
they should attack one another with sabre, revolver, and poniard.
The three champions of the priests whose names, written upon slips of
paper, were drawn out of the hat which served the purpose of an urn,
were Foulard, a French Legitimist; Sanchez, a Spanish Carlist; and
Haynau, an Austrian. The seconds busied themselves during the remainder
of the night in examining the arms, and in endeavoring to match them
with absolute equality.