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Books: Lothair

B >> Benjamin Disraeli >> Lothair




While he was meditating in this vein the door opened, and Mr. Clifford,
with some hasty action and speaking rapidly, exclaimed: "He said he
would be here sooner than myself. His carriage was at the door. I
drove back as soon as possible -- and indeed I hear something now in the
court," and he disappeared.

It was only to usher in, almost immediately, a stately personage in an
evening dress, and wearing a decoration of a high class, who saluted the
monsignore with great cordiality.

I am engaged to dine with the Prussian ambassador, who has been obliged
to come to town to receive a prince of the blood who is visiting the
dockyards here; but I thought you might be later than you expected, and
I ordered my carriage to be in waiting, so that we have a good little
hour -- and I can come on to you again afterward, if that will not do."

"A little hour with us is a long hour with other people," said the
monsignore, "because we are friends and can speak without windings. You
are a true friend to the Holy See; you have proved it. We are in great
trouble and need of aid."

"I hear that things are not altogether as we could wish," said the
gentleman in an evening dress; "but I hope, and should think, only
annoyances."

"Dangers," said Berwick, "and great."

"How so?"

"Well, we have invasion threatening us without and insurrection within,"
said Berwick. "We might, though it is doubtful, successfully encounter
one of these perils, but their united action must be fatal."

"All this has come suddenly," said the gentleman. "In the summer you
had no fear, and our people wrote to us that we might be perfectly
tranquil."

"Just so," said Berwick. "If we had met a month ago, I should have told
you the same thing. A month ago the revolution seemed lifeless,
penniless; without a future, without a resource. They had no money, no
credit, no men. At present, quietly but regularly, they are assembling
by thousands on our frontiers; thy have to our knowledge received two
large consignments of small arms, and apparently have unlimited credit
with the trade, both in Birmingham and Li ge; they have even artillery;
every thing is paid for in coin or in good bills -- and, worst of all,
they have a man, the most consummate soldier in Europe. I thought he
was at New York, and was in hopes he would never have recrossed the
Atlantic -- but I know that he passed through Florence a fortnight ago,
and I have seen a man who says he spoke to him at Narni."

"The Italian government must stop all this," said the gentleman.

"They do not stop it," said Berwick. "The government of his holiness
has made every representation to them: we have placed in their hands
indubitable evidence of the illegal proceedings that are taking place
and of the internal dangers we experience in consequence of their
exterior movements. But they do nothing: it is even believed that the
royal troops are joining the insurgents, and Garibaldi is spouting with
impunity in every balcony of Florence."

"You may depend upon it that our government is making strong
representations to the government of Florence."

"I come from Paris and elsewhere," said Berwick, with animation and
perhaps a degree of impatience. "I have seen everybody there, and I
have heard every thing. It is not representations that are wanted from
your government; it is something of a different kind."

"But if you have seen everybody at Paris and heard every thing, how can
I help you?"

"By acting upon the government here. A word from you to the English
minister would have great weight at this juncture. Queen Victoria is
interested in the maintenance of the papal throne. Her Catholic
subjects are counted by millions. The influence of his holiness has
been hitherto exercised against the Fenians. France would interfere, if
she was sure the step would not be disapproved by England."

"Interfere!" said the gentleman. "Our return to Rome almost before we
have paid our laundresses' bills in the Eternal City would be a
diplomatic scandal."

"A diplomatic scandal would be preferable to a European revolution."

"Suppose we were to have both?" and the gentleman drew his chair near
the fire.

"I am convinced that a want of firmness now," said Berwick, "would lead
to inconceivable calamities for all of us."

"Let us understand each other, my very dear friend Berwick," said his
companion, and he threw his arm over the back of his chair and looked
the Roman full in his face. You say you have been at Paris and
elsewhere, and have seen everybody and heard every thing?"

"Yes, yes."

"Something has happened to us also during the last month, and as
unexpectedly as to yourselves."

"The secret societies? Yes, he spoke to me on that very point, and
fully. 'Tis strange, but is only, in my opinion, an additional argument
in favor of crushing the evil influence."

"Well, that he must decide. But the facts are startling. A month ago
the secret societies in France were only a name; they existed only in
the memory of the police, and almost as a tradition. At present we know
that they are in complete organization, and what is most strange is that
the prefects write they have information that the Mary-Anne
associations, which are essentially republican and are scattered about
the provinces, are all revived, and are astir. Mary-Anne, as you know,
was the red name for the republic years ago, and there always was a sort
of myth that these societies had been founded by a woman. Of course
that is all nonsense, but they keep it up; it affects the public
imagination, and my government has undoubted evidence that the word of
command has gone round to all these societies that Mary-Anne has;
returned and will issue her orders, which must be obeyed."

"The Church is stronger, and especially in the provinces, than the
Mary-Anne societies," said Berwick.

"I hope so," said his friend; "but you see, my dear monsignore, the
question with us is not so simple as you put It. The secret societies
will not tolerate another Roman interference, to say nothing of the
diplomatic hubbub, which we might, if necessary, defy; but what if,
taking advantage of the general indignation, your new kingdom of Italy
may seize the golden opportunity of making a popular reputation, and
declare herself the champion of national independence against the
interference of the foreigner? My friend, we tread on delicate ground."

"If Rome falls, not an existing dynasty in Europe will survive five
years," said Berwick.

"It may be so," said his companion, but with no expression of
incredulity. "You know how consistently and anxiously I have always
labored to support the authority of the Holy See, and to maintain its
territorial position as the guarantee of its independence; but Fate has
decided against us. I cannot indulge in the belief that his holiness
will ever regain his lost provinces; a capital without a country is an
apparent anomaly, which I fear will always embarrass us. We can treat
the possession as the capital of Christendom, but, alas! all the world
are not as good Christians as ourselves, and Christendom is a country no
longer marked out in the map of the world. I wish," continued the
gentleman in a tone almost coaxing -- "I wish we could devise some plan
which, humanly speaking, would secure to his holiness the possession of
his holy throne forever. I wish I could induce you to consider more
favorably that suggestion, that his holiness should content himself with
the ancient city, and, in possession of St. Peter's and the Vatican,
leave the rest of, Rome to the vulgar cares and the mundane anxieties of
the transient generation. Yes," he added with energy, "if, my dear
Berwick, you could see your way to this, or something like this, I think
even now and at once, I could venture to undertake that the emperor, my
master, would soon put an end to all these disturbances and dangers, and
that -- "

"Non possumus," said Berwick, sternly stopping him; "sooner than that
Attila, the Constable of Bourbon, or the blasphemous orgies of the Red
Republic! After all, it is the Church against the secret societies.
They are the only two strong things in Europe, and will survive kings,
emperors, or parliaments."

At this moment there was a tap at the door, and, bidden to enter, Mr.
Clifford presented himself with a sealed paper, for the gentleman in
evening dress. "Your secretary, sir, brought this, which he said must
be given you before you went to the ambassador."

"'Tis well," said the gentleman, and he rose, and with a countenance of
some excitement read the paper, which contained a telegram; and then he
said: "This, I think, will help us out of our immediate difficulties,
my dear monsignore. Rattazzi has behaved like a man of sense, and has
arrested Garibaldi. But you do not seem, my friend, as pleased as I
should have anticipated."

"Garibaldi has been arrested before," said Berwick.

"Well, well, I am hopeful; but I must go to my dinner. I will see yon
again tomorrow."



CHAPTER 51


The continuous gathering of what, in popular language, were styled the
Garibaldi Volunteers, on the southern border of the papal territory in
the autumn of 1867, was not the only or perhaps the greatest danger
which then threatened the Holy See, though the one which most attracted
its alarmed attention. The considerable numbers in which this
assemblage was suddenly occurring; the fact that the son of the
Liberator had already taken its command, and only as the precursor of
his formidable sire; the accredited rumor that Ghirelli at the head of a
purely Roman legion was daily expected to join the frontier force; that
Nicotera was stirring in the old Neapolitan kingdom, while the Liberator
himself at Florence and in other parts of Tuscany was even
ostentatiously, certainly with impunity, preaching the new crusade and
using all his irresistible influence with the populace to excite their
sympathies and to stimulate their energy, might well justify the extreme
apprehension of the court of Rome. And yet dangers at least equal, and
almost as close, were at the same time preparing unnoticed and unknown.

In the mountainous range between Fiascone and Viterbo, contiguous to the
sea, is a valley surrounded by chains of steep and barren hills, but
which is watered by a torrent scarcely dry, even in summer; so that the
valley itself, which is not inconsiderable in its breadth, is never
without verdure, while almost a forest of brushwood formed of shrubs,
which in England we should consider rare, bounds the natural turf and
ascends sometimes to no inconsiderable height the nearest hills.

Into this valley, toward the middle of September, there defiled one
afternoon through a narrow pass a band of about fifty men, all armed,
and conducting a cavalcade or rather a caravan of mules laden with
munitions of war and other stores. When they had gained the centre of
the valley and a general halt was accomplished, their commander,
accompanied by one who was apparently an officer, surveyed all the
points of the locality; and, when their companions had rested and
refreshed themselves, they gave the necessary orders for the preparation
of a camp. The turf already afforded a sufficient area for their
present wants, but it was announced that on the morrow they must
commence clearing the brushwood. In the mean time, one of the liveliest
scenes of military life soon rapidly developed itself: the canvas houses
were pitched, the sentries appointed, the videttes established. The
commissariat was limited to bread and olives, and generally the running
stream, varied sometimes by coffee, and always consoled by tobacco.

On the third day, amid their cheerful though by no means light labors, a
second caravan arrived, evidently expected and heartily welcomed. Then,
in another eight-and-forty hours, smaller bodies of men seemed to drop
down from the hills, generally without stores, but always armed. Then
men came from neighboring islands in open boats, and one morning a
considerable detachment crossed the water from Corsica. So that at the
end of a week or ten days there was an armed force of several hundred
men in this once silent valley, now a scene of constant stir and
continual animation, for some one or something was always arriving, and
from every quarter; men and arms and stores crept in from every wild
pass of the mountains and every little rocky harbor of the coast.

About this time, while the officer in command was reviewing a
considerable portion of the troops, the rest laboring in still clearing
the brushwood and establishing the many works incidental to a camp, half
a dozen horsemen were seen descending the mountain-pass by which the
original body had entered the valley. A scout had preceded them, and
the troops with enthusiasm awaited the arrival of that leader, a message
from whose magic name had summoned them to this secluded rendezvous from
many a distant state and city. Unruffled, but with an inspiring fire in
his pleased keen eye, that general answered their devoted salute, whom
hitherto we have known by his travelling name of Captain Bruges.

It was only toward the end of the preceding month that he had resolved
to take the field; but the organization of the secret societies is so
complete that he knew he could always almost instantly secure the
assembling of a picked force in a particular place. The telegraph
circulated its mystic messages to every part of France and Italy and
Belgium, and to some old friends not so conveniently at hand, but who he
doubted not would arrive in due time for action. He himself had
employed the interval in forwarding all necessary supplies, and he had
passed through Florence in order that he might confer with the great
spirit of Italian movement and plan with him the impending campaign.

After he had passed in review the troops, the general, with the officers
of his staff who had accompanied him, visited on foot every part of the
camp. Several of the men he recognized by name; to all of them he
addressed some inspiring word; a memory of combats in which they had
fought together, or happy allusions to adventures if romantic peril;
some question which indicated that local knowledge which is magical for
those who are away from home; mixed with all this, sharp, clear
inquiries as to the business of the hour, which proved the master of
detail, severe in discipline, but never deficient in sympathy for his
troops.

After sunset, enveloped in their cloaks, the general and his companions,
the party increased by the officers who had been in command previous to
his arrival, smoked their cigars round the camp-fire.

"Well, Sarano," said the general, "I will look over your muster-roll
to-morrow, but I should suppose I may count on a thousand rifles or so.
I want three, and we shall get them. The great man would have supplied
them me at once, but I will not have boys. He must send those on to
Menotti. I told him: 'I am not a man of genius; I do not pretend to
conquer kingdoms with boys. Give me old soldiers, men who have served a
couple of campaigns, and been seasoned with four-and-twenty months of
camp-life, and I will not disgrace you or myself.'"

"We have had no news from the other place for a long time," said Sarano.
"How is it?"

"Well enough. They are in the mountains about Nerola, in a position not
very unlike this; numerically strong, for Nicotera has joined them, and
Ghirelli with the Roman Legion is at hand. They must be quiet till the
great man joins them; I am told they are restless. There has been too
much noise about the whole business. Had they been as mum as you have
been, we should not have had all these representations from France and
these threatened difficulties from that quarter. The Papalini would
have complained and remonstrated, and Rattazzi could have
conscientiously assured the people at Paris that they were dealing with
exaggerations and bugbears; the very existence of the frontier force
would have become a controversy, and, while the newspapers were proving
it was a myth, we should have been in the Vatican."

"And when shall we be there, general?"

"I do not want to move for a month. By that time I shall have two
thousand five hundred or three thousand of my old comrades, and the
great man will have put his boys in trim. Both bodies must leave their
mountains at the same time, join in the open country, and march to
Rome."

As the night advanced, several of the party rose and left the camp-fire
-- some to their tents, some to their duties. Two of the staff remained
with the general.

"I am disappointed and uneasy that we have not heard from Paris," said
one of them.

"I am disappointed," said the general, "but not uneasy; she never makes
a mistake."

"The risk was too great," rejoined the speaker in a depressed tone.

"I do not see that," said the general. "What is the risk? Who could
possibly suspect the lady's maid of the Princess of Tivoli! I am told
that the princess has become quite a favorite at the Tuileries."

"They say that the police is not so well informed as it used to be;
nevertheless, I confess I should be much happier were she sitting round
this camp-fire."

"Courage!" said the general. "I do not believe in many things, but I do
believe in the divine Theodora. What say you, Captain Muriel? I hope
you are not offended by my criticism of young soldiers. You are the
youngest in our band, but you have good military stuff in you, and will
be soon seasoned."

"I feel I serve under a master of the art," replied Lothair, "and will
not take the gloomy view of Colonel Campian about our best friend,
though I share all his disappointment. It seems to me that detection is
impossible. I am sure that I could not have recognized her when I
handed the princess into her carriage."

"The step was absolutely necessary," said the general; "no one could be
trusted but herself -- no other person has the influence. All our
danger is from France. The Italian troops will never cross the frontier
to attack us, rest assured of that. I have proof of it. And it is most
difficult, almost impossible, for the French to return. There never
would have been an idea of such a step, if there had been a little more
discretion at Florence, less of those manifestoes and speeches from
balconies. But we must not criticise one who is above criticism.
Without him we could do nothing, and when he stamps his foot men rise
from the earth. I will go the rounds; come with me, Captain Muriel.
Colonel, I order you to your tent; you are a veteran -- the only one
among us, at least on the staff, who was wounded at Aspromonte."



CHAPTER 52


The life of Lothair had been so strange and exciting since he quitted
Muriel Towers that he had found little time for that reflection in which
he was once so prone to indulge. Perhaps he shrank from it. If he
wanted an easy distraction from self -- criticism it may be a convenient
refuge from the scruples, or even the pangs, of conscience -- it was
profusely supplied by the startling affairs of which he formed a part,
the singular characters with whom he was placed in contact, the risk and
responsibility which seemed suddenly to have encompassed him with their
ever-stimulating influence, and, lastly, by the novelty of foreign
travel, which, even under ordinary circumstances, has a tendency to
rouse and stir up even ordinary men.

So long as Theodora was his companion in their counsels, and he was
listening to her deep plans and daring suggestions, enforced by that
calm enthusiasm which was not the least powerful of her commanding
spells, it is not perhaps surprising that he should have yielded without
an effort to her bewitching ascendancy. But when they had separated,
and she had embarked on that perilous enterprise of personally
conferring with the chiefs of those secret societies of France, which
had been fancifully baptized by her popular name, and had nurtured her
tradition as a religious faith, it might have been supposed that
Lothair, left to himself, might have recurred to the earlier sentiments
of his youth. But he was not left to himself. He was left with her
injunctions, and the spirit of the oracle, though the divinity was no
longer visible, pervaded his mind and life.

Lothair was to accompany the general as one of his aides-de-camp, and he
was to meet Theodora again on what was contemplated as the field of
memorable actions. Theodora had wisely calculated on the influence,
beneficial in her view, which the character of a man like the general
would exercise over Lothair. This consummate military leader, though he
had pursued a daring career, and was a man of strong convictions, was
distinguished by an almost unerring judgment, and a mastery of method
rarely surpassed. Though he was without imagination or sentiment, there
were occasions on which he had shown he was not deficient in a becoming
sympathy, and he had a rapid and correct perception of character. He
was a thoroughly honest man, and, in the course of a life of great trial
and vicissitude, even envenomed foes had never impeached his pure
integrity. For the rest, he was unselfish, but severe in discipline,
inflexible, and even ruthless in the fulfilment of his purpose. A
certain simplicity of speech and conduct, and a disinterestedness which,
even in little things, was constantly exhibiting itself, gave to his
character even charm, and rendered personal intercourse with him highly
agreeable.

In the countless arrangements which had to be made, Lothair was never
wearied in recognizing and admiring the prescience and precision of his
chief; and when the day had died, and for a moment they had ceased from
their labors, or were travelling together, often through the night,
Lothair found in the conversation of his companion, artless and
unrestrained, a wonderful fund of knowledge both of men and things, and
that, too, in very different climes and countries.

The camp in the Apennines was not favorable to useless reverie. Lothair
found unceasing and deeply-interesting occupation in his numerous and
novel duties; and, if his thoughts for a moment wandered beyond the
barren peaks around him, they were attracted and engrossed by one
subject -- and that was, naturally, Theodora. From her they had heard
nothing since her departure, except a mysterious, though not
discouraging, telegram which was given to them by Colonel Campian when
he had joined them at Florence. It was difficult not to feel anxious
about her, though the general would never admit the possibility of her
personal danger.

In this state of affairs, a week having elapsed since his arrival at the
camp, Lothair, who had been visiting the outposts, was summoned one
morning by an orderly to the tent of the general. That personage was on
his legs when Lothair entered it, and was dictating to an officer
writing at a table.

"You ought to know my military secretary," said the general, as Lothair
entered, "and therefore I will introduce you."

Lothair was commencing a suitable reverence of recognition as the
secretary raised his head to receive it, when he suddenly stopped,
changed color, and for a moment seemed to lose himself, and then
murmured, "Is it possible?"

It was indeed Theodora: clothed in male attire, she seemed a stripling.

"Quite possible," she said, "and all is well. But I found it a longer
business than I had counted on. You see, there are so many new persons
who knew me only by tradition, but with whom it was necessary I should
personally confer. And I had more difficulty, just now, in getting
through Florence than I had anticipated. The Papalini and the French
are both worrying our allies in that city about the gathering on the
southern frontier, and there is a sort of examination, true or false, I
will not aver, of all who depart. However, I managed to pass with some
soldiers' wives who were carrying fruit as far as Narni, and there I met
an old comrade of Aspromonte, who is a custom-officer now, but true to
the good cause, and he, and his daughter, who is with me, helped me
through every thing, and so I am with my dear friends again."

After some slight conversation in this vein, Theodora entered into a
detailed narrative of her proceedings, and gave to them her views of the
condition of affairs.

"By one thing, above all others," she said, "I am impressed, and that
is, the unprecedented efforts which Rome is making to obtain the return
of the French. There never was such influence exercised, such distinct
offers made, such prospects intimated. You may prepare yourself for any
thing; a papal coronation, a family pontiff -- I could hardly say a King
of Rome, though he has been reminded of that royal fact. Our friends
have acted with equal energy and with perfect temper. The heads of the
societies have met in council, and resolved that, if France will refuse
to interfere, no domestic disturbance shall be attempted during this
reign, and they have communicated this resolution to headquarters. He
trusts them; he knows they are honest men. They did something like this
before the Italian War, when he hesitated about heading the army from
the fear of domestic revolution. Anxious to recover the freedom of
Italy, they apprized him that, if he personally entered the field, they
would undertake to insure tranquillity at home. The engagement was
scrupulously fulfilled. When I left Paris all looked well, but affairs
require the utmost vigilance and courage. It is a mighty struggle; it
is a struggle between the Church and the secret societies; and it is a
death-struggle."