And in Rome, what were Cucchi and his companions doing, and the Roman
and provincial patriots consecrated to freedom and death? Cucchi, of
Bergamo, was one of the most excellent men the revolution gave to Italy.
Handsome, young, and wealthy, he belonged to one of the first families
in Lombardy. Guerzoni, Bossi, Adamoli, and many others, despising the
tortures of the Inquisition, and all other dangers, directed the Roman
insurrection, under the command of that intrepid Bergamasco.
The unhappy Roman people received with obedience the directions of those
valiant youths, and asked to be supplied with arms. Arms in plenty
had been sent down to the Volunteers from all parts of Italy; but the
Government of Florence, expert in every form of cunning, took means to
stop them, so that there were very few weapons to be dispensed to the
Romans.
Add to this the treachery prepared for this unhappy people, viz., the
tacit promise that a few shots should be fired in the air, and that then
the Italian army from the frontier would fly to their assistance. By
such false pretenses and underhand proceedings at Florence, the people
of Rome, as well as their heroic friends, were deceived. Those shots
were fired, but no help came for Italy.
Poor Romans! they fought with rude weapons in the streets against an
immense number of well-armed soldiery, who were backed by armed priests,
monks, and police. They succeeded in mining and blowing up a Zouave
barrack, and with the knife alone fought desperately against the
new-fashioned carbines of the mercenaries.
In Trastevere, our old acquaintances, Attilio, Muzio, Orazio, Silvio,
and Gasparo, had re-united with all those remaining of the Three Hundred
on whom the police had not laid their hands. The people having thus
found capable leaders did their duty. Some of the old carbines that had
done execution in the Roman campaign now reappeared in the city in
the hands of Orazio and his companions, who made them serve as an
efficacious auxiliary to the Trasteverini's naked knife.
The city rose in its chains as best it could, and used an armory of
despair. Carbineers, Zouaves, dragoons on their patrol, were struck by
tiles, kitchen-utensils, and many other objects thrown from the windows
by the inhabitants, stabbed by the poniards of the Liberals, and wounded
by shots from blunderbuss and firelock. Thus assailed, the troops fled
from the Lungara towards St. Angelo's bridge, and passed it, though they
were checked by the Papalini. The bridge was guarded by a battery of
artillery, supported by an entire regiment of Zouaves. When the people,
intermingled with those whom they were pursuing, crowded on the bridge,
the commander of the clericali ordered his men to fire, and the six guns
of the battery, with the fire of the entire line of infantry, poured
out over the bridge, making wholesale slaughter of the people and the
mercenaries. What did his Holiness care about the scattered blood of his
cut-throats and bought agents? The money of Italy's betrayers was at his
service to purchase more. What was of the greatest importance was the
destruction of many of his Roman children. Many indeed were the rebels
who paid with their lives for their noble gallantly in venturing on that
fatal bridge. Many, truly, for in their enthusiasm the people attempted
three consecutive times to carry it, and three consecutive times they
were repelled by the heavy storms of bullets rained upon them, and the
shots from the cannon of the defenders of the priests.
It may well be supposed that, among those who were at the head of the
people during this assault of the bridge, our five heroes would be found
fighting like lions. After having consumed their ammunition, they had
broken their arms upon the skulls of the Papal soldiery, and provided
themselves with fresh ones by taking those of the killed. It was they
who continued the assault at the head of the people, whom they excited
to positive heroism.
It was, however, too hard a task. The first of the courageous leaders
to bite the dust was the senior one, the venerable prince of the forest,
Gasparo. He fell with the same stoicism which he had displayed during
all his existence--with a smile upon his lips, happy to give his fife
for ten thousand patriots, it is said, were arrested in some in this last
movement by the paternal Government, for his country's holy cause, and
for the cause of humanity. A bursting shell had struck him above the
heart, and his glorious death was instantaneous and without pain.
Silvio also fell by the side of Gasparo, both his thighs pierced with
musket-balls. Orazio had his left ear carried off by a ballet, while
another slightly grazed his right leg. Muzio would have been dispatched
also by a shot in the breast, had it not been for a strong English watch
(a present from the beautiful Julia), which was smashed to atoms, and so
saved his life, leaving the mark of a severe contusion. Attilio had his
hip grazed, as well as his left cheek, and received from a flying bullet
a notch on his skull, resembling in appearance the mark a rope wears on
the edge of a wall.
The butchery of the people was so great and the fallen were so numerous,
that after these three consecutive charges the brave insurrectionists
were obliged to retreat. Orazio carried Silvio on his back into the
first house near the bridge for safety, but when the soldiery returned,
the wounded were massacred and cut in pieces. Women, children, and many
unarmed and defenseless persons who fell into the hands of these worthy
soldiers of the priesthood shared a similar fate.
The good instincts of the working-class are proved in the solemn times
of revolution. In such times the noble-minded working-man saves and
defends his employer's goods, never robs him; but if he takes arms he
spares the lives of defenseless beings, and of those who surrender. He
would shudder to kill with the cynicism of the mercenary; he fights like
a lion--he who was so patient--one against ten!
In the Lungara there is a large woollen manufactory, which employs many
workmen. From that woollen factory many had joined the insurgents, the
elder ones remaining to guard the establishment. When these good old
artisans saw the people and their fellow-workmen thus followed by the
Papal bullies and the mercenaries, they threw open the doors and gave
shelter to the fugitives, or at any rate to some of them, and levelled
bars, axes, and every iron instrument that would serve as a weapon of
offense or defense against the hated foreigners and the gendarmerie.
There arose in consequence an indescribable tumult at the entrance to
the factory, where the advantage was, at first, to the honest people,
and where not a few of the Papal soldiers had their skulls smashed in,
and their blood let out by the blows received. At length the besiegers
took up their position in the opposite houses, and the besieged, having
barricaded themselves and collected a few more fire-arms, began afresh,
with constant change of fortune, a real battle.
Our three surviving friends had entered the factory, and fought there
with great determination. The workmen and insurgents, too, encouraged by
their chiefs, had also comported themselves valorously. But ammunition
was lacking, and detachments of mercenaries were advancing to the succor
of their comrades. Night, however, now favored the sons of liberty, who,
although without ammunition, still kept up the defense.
It was 7 p.m. when the fire of the insurgents ceased, and a division of
Papal troops commenced the assault. They began by attacking the large
front door of the factory, which the workmen had barricaded but not
closed. Orazio and Muzio, after further strengthening the entrance,
armed each man with an axe, and, picking out the youngest and boldest
Romans, stationed some of them to the right and some to the left of the
door to defend it. Thus prepared for a desperate resistance, determining
to sell their lives dearly, the assault was received.
Attilio had undertaken to defend the other entrance, and keep off the
second portion of the assailants. Having secured the back doors in the
best manner possible with his appliances, he placed a number of workmen
at the windows of the upper floor, from whence they were to cast npon
the assailants whatever missiles could be found. As soon as he had
completed these arrangements, he placed himself with his friends at
the most dangerous post, armed with the sabre of a gendarme whom he had
slain during the day.
The internal appearance of the factory presented at this moment a sad
picture. Many bodies of courageous citizens killed in its defense had
been carried to and deposited in an obscure corner of its extensive
court-yard. In other corners, lying here and there, were the wounded,
and some were also stretched in the rooms upon the ground-floor. But not
a groan was heard from these valorous sons of the people.
An immense table, with a candelabrum in the centre, occupied the middle
of an extensive saloon on the left side of the front entrance to the
building, and on that table could be seen heaps of bandages, slings,
cotton-wool, and linen of various kinds--the best which the house could
furnish for the use of the wounded. A large vessel of water was
under the table--perhaps the most useful relief of all to the wounded
sufferers, be it to moisten and cool their wounds by bathing, or to
quench the thirst which wounds generally occasion.
Three women of rare and noble beauty moved about in this improvised
hospital superintending the wounded, and we recognize in their gentle
yet bold mien our three heroines, Clelia, Julia, and Irene.
The poor abandoned Camilla, ignorant of the loss of her Silvio, and
with the traces of her past sorrows still lingering on her sweet face,
mechanically assisted the three merciful women in their kind attentions
to the sufferers. They had awaited their friends in the factory with
these preparations as soon as the battle on the bridge commenced, and
they received the wounded when the people, driven back, sought refuge in
the establishment, and entrenched themselves there. Other women of the
people were on the spot also, tending the suffering, and carrying them
what relief the circumstances permitted.
"Well, Prince of the Campagna," Attilio might be heard saying to Orazio,
"we have seen many strifes, but the one we are in to-night is likely to
prove the hardest of all. What consoles me is that our Romans seem to
remember the olden times. Look at them, not one turns pale--all are
ready to confront death in whatever form it may come."
"On the contrary," answered Orazio, "they laugh, joke, and are as merry
as if they were taking a walk to the Foro to empty a _foglietta_."
"We have still some wine. Let us give a draught of Orvieto all round to
these our brave comrades," exclaimed Attilio.
When all had refreshed themselves with a glass of that strengthening
cordial, a unanimous and solemn cry of "_Viva l'Italia!_" rolled forth
like thunder from that dense and resolute crowd of Home's desperate
defenders.