A people well-governed and contented do not rebel. Insurrections and
revolutions are the weapons of the oppressed and the slave. The inciting
causes of such are tyrannies. The apparent exceptions, originating from
different circumstances, are, when closely examined, found to be the
offspring of moral or material despotisms.
England, Switzerland, and the United States have experienced, and may
still experience, insurrections, although these countries are by no
means badly governed. Switzerland has had her Sonderbunds, and England
her Fenians. These latter are chiefly kept in vigor by the Romish
priests, through the moral tyranny exercised by them over the most
ignorant of the population in Ireland. The United States have witnessed,
in these latter years, a terrible revolution, caused by the material
tyranny the rich colonists of the South exercised over their slaves,
which they, moreover, desired to extend to the other States of the
Union.
Moral or material tyranny is always the cause of revolution. And in Rome
who can deny that both moral and material tyranny is exercised? Yes, in
Rome exists the twofold revolting despotism of the priests who lay Italy
at the feet of the stranger; who sell her for their profit! Theirs is
the most depraved of all forms of tyranny.
Picture a dreary, dark, windy, damp night in October. The rain has
ceased to fall on the glistening and foaming surface of the Tiber. The
banks of the river are muddy and furrowed, for every ditch has become a
torrent, and scarcely a vestige of dry and solid ground is perceptible.
In several boats behold seventy men, armed with poniards and revolvers,
and a few miscellaneous muskets. Their habiliments were far too thin
for that cold rainy night. But the Seventy were warmed by the heat of
heroism. Rome on this night was to rise in rebellion.
Many of the bravest youths from every Italian province had contrived
to enter the city, and our old friends Attilio, Muzio, and Orazio, with
their companions, were at their posts, ready to head the Roman rising.
In vain did the priesthood endeavor to discover the conspirators,
arresting right and left all upon whom the slightest suspicion fell:
their efforts were vain, for Rome swarmed with brave men, ready to
sacrifice themselves in order to secure her liberation.
The Seventy, impelled by the current of the Tiber, were rapidly
advancing to the assistance of their brothers. Under cover of Mount St.
Giuliano, those valorous youths landed, at the hoar of midnight, on the
22d of October, 1867.
Enrico Cairoli led his heroic companions. "We will rest," he said, "our
limbs in this Casino della Gloria, until we receive intelligence from
our allies in the city, so that our attack may be made on the enemy
simultaneously. Meanwhile," went on their leader, "I feel it my duty to
remind you that this enterprise is a dangerous one, and therefore the
more worthy of you. If, however, any of you are overdone, or feel at
all indisposed to the great task, and do not care to follow us, let them
return. We shall not think it a crime in him to do so; and all we say to
them is, 'Farewell, till we meet in Rome!'"
"In life and in death we will follow you," answered, as in one voice,
those intrepid youths, not one of whom turned back.
"The guide who was to conduct us to Rome is not to be found, and no one
has yet returned to give us any news," said Giovanni Cairoli, who had
just come back from an exploration, to his brother.
Dawn began to appear, and they were now in the wolfs mouth--that is,
near the advanced posts of the Papal troops, and in danger of being
attacked at any moment.
"What does it signify?" said Enrico Cairoli, in reply to his brother's
remark. "We came here to fight, and we will not return without having
accomplished that duty."
At mid-day a messenger arrived from Rome, and announced, "The movement
on the previous evening had remained an imperfect one, and the
conspirators were waiting for orders to direct them how to act."
The messenger was sent back to urge immediate internal agitation, and to
assure them of the readiness of the Seventy to co-operate.
No answer was returned. At five o'clock in the afternoon, the Seventy
being discovered, were attacked by two companies of the Papal troops.
The valorous Giovanni Cairoli, who, at the head of twenty-four men,
formed the vanguard, posted in a rustic house in the village, was
attacked first; and, notwithstanding the inferiority of his numbers,
withstood the assault of the enemy. His equally valiant brother Enrico,
the commander, seeing him in danger, overcome by force of numbers,
charged to the rescue, and drove back the mercenaries, who fled at the
sight of these brave and devoted boys.
Being reinforced by other companies, the mercenaries entrenched
themselves behind the heights of Mount St. Giuliano, from whence they
kept up a fearfully destructive fire with their superior arms. The
Cairolis, with their intrepid companions, crippled by the inferiority of
their fire-arms, many of which would not go off, resolved to charge
them at the point of the bayonet, and made one of those assaults that so
often decide battles. The mercenaries, completely daunted, left upon the
field their wounded and dead. The young soldiers of Liberty lost their
heroic chief and friend, and many of them were seriously 'wounded. Night
came, and put an end to that unequal but gallant strife.