Garibaldi
Meanwhile events were occurring in northern Italy that were to exert a
far-reaching influence on the Kingdom of Naples. The throne of Sardinia
was occupied by a bold and able sovereign, Victor Emanuel of Savoy, who
was fortunate enough to have as his counsellor Cavour, one of the
foremost statesmen of the nineteenth century.
Together with Napoleon the Third, Victor Emanuel had inflicted a series
of defeats on the Austrians early in 1859, breaking their rule in
Lombardy, and thereby giving a tremendous impetus to the spirit of
Italian unity. It was as if the whole country had suddenly awakened to a
realization of the fact that the various States into which Italy had
been divided for centuries really belonged together; and the idea of
uniting them seized the popular mind with irresistible force. It is
interesting to note that the national movement which occurred some ten
years later in Germany had many points of resemblance to this. Both
nations had only of late aspired to greater political importance: both
were good fighters and governed by princes who knew how to wield the
sword themselves, as well as to choose their generals and statesmen. In
both cases the right men appeared at the right moment—Von Moltke and
Bismarck in Germany, Garibaldi and Cavour in Italy. Cavour had several
times attempted to bring about an alliance between Sardinia and Naples
during the reign of Ferdinand; but his offers had been treated with
scorn by that short-sighted monarch. After his death and the brilliant
victory over the Austrians at Magenta, overtures to this end were again
made by Sardinia to the new King of Naples.
On the twenty-fourth of June, 1859, Victor Emanuel sent Salmour, one of
his ablest and most trusted diplomats, to Naples. He reminded Francis of
the ties of blood that bound him to the house of Savoy, and pointed out
the fact that an alliance between the two kingdoms would be security for
the independence of Italy. The plan had been warmly supported by the
press of northern Italy and its popularity was testified to by the
enthusiasm with which Salmour’s arrival was hailed in Naples. But, on
the other hand, it met with powerful opposition at court, especially on
the part of the dowager Queen, who, as an Austrian archduchess, was
bitter against Sardinia for the defeats her native land had suffered at
its hands, and used all her influence to prejudice the weak young King
against the plan. As a result, Salmour was obliged to return without
accomplishing his object and the diplomatic transactions were never made
public. But though Francis might reject the offer of such an alliance,
he could not prevent the idea of a union between northern and southern
Italy meeting with popular favor; and it spread with such lightning
rapidity throughout the two kingdoms that soon only a spark was needed
to kindle public enthusiasm into a blaze. In less than a year from the
time that Francis refused Victor Emanuel’s proposal, that spark appeared
in the form of Garibaldi.
On the sixth of May, 1860, Garibaldi embarked at Genoa with a thousand
volunteers, and on the eleventh landed at Marsala, on the west coast of
Sicily. Brave and hardy as his followers were, it was a hazardous
undertaking to attempt, with such a force, to attack an army of over one
hundred thousand regular troops; but Garibaldi knew his adversary and
hoped for assistance from the people. On the fourteenth of May he
assumed the dictatorship of the island in the name of Victor Emanuel,
and the next day, with the aid of some hundred revolutionists, defeated
General Laudi’s force of three thousand men who were occupying the
heights of Calatafimi. When the Garibaldians lit their watchfires that
night on the field of victory, they had good cause for rejoicing. The
first battle had been fought and won. The Neapolitan troops were fleeing
in confusion toward Alcamo. The people’s leader had shown that he could
defeat a king’s army, and the Neapolitans had learned to fear the
tri-colored banner and the red shirt. While the Neapolitan generals were
vainly searching for Garibaldi in the mountains, he was already pressing
on towards Palermo, the capital, meeting with strong support from the
people everywhere. After three days of hard fighting before that city,
it capitulated, and was occupied by the revolutionists, although two
weeks elapsed before the dictator could follow up his victory. At the
end of that time he again took the war-path and at Melazzo surprised the
columns of General Bosco, who was in command of the finest and best
disciplined troops in Sicily.
On the twenty-eighth of June the Neapolitans were forced to evacuate
Messina, and a few days later the “red shirts,” whose force had now
increased to about twenty thousand men, camped in the streets of that
city, from Taormina to Capo del Faro. Sicily was won. Garibaldi now
turned his glances toward the mainland, whose mountains towered
threateningly above him across the straits, and on the evening of the
twenty-first of August the banner of Italy floated above the
fortifications of Reggio, the strongest post in Calabria. The defence of
Reggio was the last effort of the royalist army south of Naples.
Defeated and disheartened, they retreated northward, leaving the
fortified towns to vie with one another in throwing open their gates to
the conquerors. The fleet, too, seemed paralyzed. It made no effort to
prevent the passage of Garibaldi’s men from Sicily, but proceeded
northward to Naples without having fired a gun. Europe was dumb with
amazement at the audacity of these champions of liberty. Garibaldi’s
march from the southern extremity of Italy to Naples appeared at that
time, as it still does, like a tale of the imagination. It seemed
incredible that the splendid army created by King Ferdinand with the
labors and sacrifices of thirty years could go to pieces like a building
in an earthquake. Of course there were many reasons for this, but the
chief one was Garibaldi himself. No man could have been better fitted
for the leadership of such a movement. Glowing with patriotism and love
of liberty, inspired with the idea of Italian unity, yet at the same
time a true democrat, friend of the oppressed and foe to tyranny,
disinterested, self-sacrificing, bold, and daring, a knight without fear
and without reproach, he seemed created to be an ideal popular hero.
Wherever he appeared in his red shirt and black felt hat he aroused the
wildest enthusiasm; and popular fancy soon invested him with a halo of
glory almost equal to that of William Tell in Switzerland or Joan of Arc
in France.
By forced marches Garibaldi continued his triumphant progress, giving
the royal troops no time to recover themselves. Twenty days after he had
first set foot on the shores of Naples, he was at Salerno, only a few
miles from the capital. Everywhere he was hailed as a liberator, his
army welcomed with flowers and recruits where they had expected to find
only foes. Well might he have said with Cæsar, “I came, I saw, I
conquered!”
These events created the greatest consternation at the court of Naples,
and many royalists fled the country in terror. The dowager Queen’s
father, Archduke Charles of Austria, had advised King Ferdinand many
years before to fortify Gaeta and Capua strongly, so as to have a safe
retreat in case of revolution; and mindful of her father’s words, Maria
Theresa immediately betook herself to Gaeta with all her children.
On the news of Garibaldi’s landing, Francis had consulted the Duke de
Chambord as to the state of affairs. “With the enemy at the gates, there
is no time for concessions and reforms,” the head of the house of
Bourbon replied. “The King should mount and lead his troops against this
Garibaldi and his followers!” This answer was quite in accordance with
the young Queen’s opinion. She had been strongly in favor of the
alliance with Victor Emanuel; but now that the opportunity for that was
past and the enemy was advancing, it seemed to her there could be no
other course than to take up arms in defence of the kingdom. Mirabeau
declared that Marie Antoinette was the only man about Louis the
Sixteenth, and those who were with Maria Sophia at this time have said
the same of her; for she seemed to be the only one at court who did not
lose her head. She tried in every way to encourage her husband and urge
him to fight; but to her despair Francis seemed incapable of arriving at
any decisive course of action. He wavered to and fro like a reed in the
wind, doubtful of himself and suspicious of all about him; seeking for
support now here, now there, but unable to decide on anything till it
was too late, and the time for parleying was past.