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Books: Lothair

B >> Benjamin Disraeli >> Lothair




When Theodora entered and offered him her hand he pressed it to his lips
with gravity and proud homage, and then their hostess said: "Captain
Muriel, let me present you to a prince who will not bear his titles, and
whom, therefore, I must call by his name -- Romolo Colonna."

The large folding-doors, richly painted and gilt, though dim from
neglect and time, and sustained by columns of precious marbles, were
suddenly opened and revealed another saloon, in which was a round table
brightly lighted, and to which the princess invited her friends.

Their conversation at dinner was lively and sustained; the travels of
the last two days formed a natural part and were apposite to commence
with, but they were soon engrossed in the great subject of their lives;
and Colonna, who had left Rome only four-and-twenty hours, gave them
interesting details of the critical condition of that capital. When the
repast was concluded the princess rose, and, accompanied by Lothair,
reentered the saloon, but Theodora and Colonna lingered behind, and,
finally seating themselves at the farthest end of the apartment in which
they had dined, became engaged in earnest conversation.

"You have seen a great deal since we first met at Belmont," said the
princess to Lothair.

"It seems to me now," said Lothair, "that I knew as much of life then as
I did of the stars above us, about whose purposes and fortunes I used to
puzzle myself."

"And might have remained in that ignorance. The great majority of men
exist but do not live -- like Italy in the last century. The power of
the passions, the force of the will, the creative energy of the
imagination -- these make life, and reveal to us a world of which the
million are entirely ignorant You have been fortunate in your youth to
have become acquainted with a great woman. It develops all a man's
powers, and gives him a thousand talents."

"I often think," said Lothair, "that I have neither powers nor talents,
but am, drifting without an orbit."

"Into infinite space," said the priestess. "Well, one might do worse
than that. But it is not so. In the long-run your nature will prevail,
and you will fulfil your organic purpose; but you will accomplish your
ends with a completeness which can only be secured by the culture and
development you are now experiencing."

"And what is my nature?" said Lothair. "I wish you would tell me."

"Has not the divine Theodora told you?"

"She has told me many things, but not that."

"How, then, could I know," said the princess, "if she has not discovered
it?"

"But perhaps she has discovered it," said Lothair.

"Oh! then she would tell you," said the princess, "for she is the soul
of truth."

"But she is also the soul of kindness, and she might wish to spare my
feelings."

"Well, that is very modest, and I dare say not affected. For there is
no man, however gifted, even however conceited, who has any real
confidence in himself until he has acted."

"Well, we shall soon act," said Lothair, "and then I. suppose I shall
know my nature."

"In time," said the princess, "and with the continued inspiration of
friendship."

"But you too are a great friend of Theodora?"

"Although a woman. I see you are laughing at female friendships, and,
generally speaking, there is foundation for the general sneer. I will
own, for my part, I have every female weakness, and in excess. I am
vain, I am curious, I am jealous, and I am envious; but I adore
Theodora. I reconcile my feelings toward her and my disposition in this
way. It is not friendship -- it is worship. And indeed there are
moments when I sometimes think she is one of those beautiful divinities
that we once worshipped in this land, and who, when they listened to our
prayers, at least vouchsafed that our country should not be the terrible
wilderness that you crossed this day."

In the mean time Colonna, with folded arms and eyes fixed on the ground,
was listening to Theodora.

"Thus you see," she continued, "it comes to this -- Rome can only be
freed by the Romans. He looks upon the secret societies of his own
country as he does upon universal suffrage -- a wild beast, and
dangerous, but which may be watched and tamed and managed by the police.
He listens, but he plays with them. He temporizes. At the bottom of
his heart, his Italian blood despises the Gauls. It must be something
deeper and more touching than this. Rome must appeal to him, and in the
ineffable name."

"It has been uttered before," said Colonna, looking up at his companion,
"and -- " And he hesitated.

"And in vain you would say," said Theodora. "Not so. There was a
martyrdom, but the blood of Felice baptized the new birth of Italian
life. But I am not thinking of bloodshed. Had it not been for the
double intrigues of the Savoyards it need not then have been shed. We
bear him no ill-will -- at least not now -- and we can make great
offers. Make them. The revolution in Gaul is ever a mimicry of Italian
thought and life. Their great affair of the last century, which they
have so marred and muddied, would never have occurred had it not been
for Tuscan reform; 1848 was the echo of our societies; and the Seine
will never be disturbed if the Tiber flows unruffled. Let him consent
to Roman freedom, and 'Madre Natura' will guarantee him against Lutetian
barricades."

"It is only the offer of Mary-Anne in another form," said Colonna.

"Guarantee the dynasty," said Theodora. "There is the point. He can
trust us. Emperors and kings break treaties without remorse, but he
knows that what is registered by the most ancient power in the world is
sacred."

"'Can republicans guarantee dynasties?" said Colonna, shaking his head.

"Why, what is a dynasty, when we are dealing with eternal things? The
casualties of life compared with infinite space? Rome is eternal.
Centuries of the most degrading and foreign priestcraft -- enervating
rites brought in by Hellogabalus and the Syrian emperors -- have failed
to destroy her. Dynasties! Why, even in our dark servitude we have
seen Merovingian and Carlovingian kings, and Capets, and Valois, and
Bourbons, and now Bonapartes. They have disappeared, and will disappear
like Orgetorix and the dynasties of the time of Caesar. What we want is
Rome free. Do not you see that everything has been preparing for that
event? This monstrous masquerade of United Italy -- what is it but an
initiatory ceremony, to prove that Italy without Rome is a series of
provinces? Establish the Roman republic, and the Roman race will, as
before, conquer them in detail. And, when the Italians are thus really
united, what will become of the Gauls? Why, the first Bonaparte said
that if Italy were really united the Gauls would have no chance. And he
was a good judge of such things."

"What would you have me do, then?" said Colonna.

"See him -- see him at once. Say every thing that I have said, and say
it better. His disposition is with us. Convenience, all political
propriety, counsel and would justify his abstinence. A return to Rome
would seem weak, fitful, capricious, and would prove that his previous
retirement was ill-considered and ill-informed. It would disturb and
alarm Europe. But you have, nevertheless, to fight against great odds.
It is 'Madre Natura' against St. Peter's. Never was the abomination of
the world so active as at present. It is in the very throes of its fell
despair. To save itself it would poison in the Eucharist."

"And if I fail?" said Colonna.

"You will not fail. On the whole, his interest lies on our side."

"The sacerdotal influences are very strong there. When the calculation
of interest is fine, a word, a glance, sometimes a sigh, a tear, may
have a fatal effect."

"All depends upon him," said Theodora. "If he were to disappear from
the stage, interference would be impossible."

"But he is on the stage, and apparently will remain."

"A single life should not stand between Rome and freedom."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Romolo Colonna should go to Paris and free his country."



CHAPTER 57


When Captain Muriel and his detachment returned to the camp, they found
that the force had been not inconsiderably increased in their absence,
while the tidings of the disposition of the Italian army brought by the
recruits and the deserters from the royal standard, cherished the hopes
of the troops, and stimulated their desire for action. Theodora had
been far more communicative during their journey back than in that of
her departure. She was less absorbed, and had resumed that serene yet
even sympathizing character which was one of her charms. Without going
into detail, she mentioned more than once to Lothair how relieved she
felt by Colonna accepting the mission to Paris. He was a person of so
much influence, she said, and of such great judgment and resource. She
augured the most satisfactory results from his presence on the main
scene of action.

Time passed rapidly at the camp. When a life of constant activity is
combined with routine, the hours fly. Neither letter nor telegram
arrived from Colonna, and neither was expected; and yet. Theodora heard
from him, and even favorably. One day, as she was going the rounds with
her husband, a young soldier, a new recruit, approached her, and,
pressing to his lips a branch of the olive-tree, presented it to her.
On another occasion when she returned to her tent, she found a bunch of
fruit from the same tree, though not quite ripe, which showed that the
cause of peace had not only progressed but had almost matured. All
these communications sustained her sanguine disposition, and, full of
happy confidence, she labored with unceasing and inspiring energy, so
that when the looked-for signal came they might be prepared to obey it;
and rapidly gather the rich fruition of their glorious hopes.

While she was in this mood of mind, a scout arrived from Nerola,
bringing news that a brigade of the French army had positively embarked
at Marseilles, and might be hourly expected at Civita Vecchia. The news
was absolute. The Italian consul at Marseilles had telegraphed to his
government both when the first regiment was on board and when the last
had embarked. Copies of these telegrams had been forwarded instantly by
a secret friend to the volunteers on the southern frontier.

When Theodora heard this news she said nothing, but, turning pale, she
quitted the group round the general and hastened to her own tent. She
told her attendant, the daughter of the custom-house officer at Narni,
and a true child of the mountains, that no one must approach her, not
even Colonel Campian, and the girl sat without the tent at its entrance,
dressed in her many-colored garments, with fiery eyes and square white
teeth, and her dark hair braided with gold coins and covered with a long
white kerchief of perfect cleanliness; and she had a poniard at her side
and a revolver in her hand, and she would have used both weapons sooner
than that her mistress should be disobeyed.

Alone in her tent, Theodora fell upon her knees, and, lifting up her
hands to heaven and bowing her head to the earth, she said: "O God!
whom I have ever worshipped, God of justice and of truth, receive the
agony of my soul!"

And on the earth she remained for hours in despair.

Night came, and it brought no solace, and the day returned, but to her
it brought no light. Theodora was no longer seen. The soul of the camp
seemed extinct. The mien of majesty that ennobled all; the winning
smile that rewarded the rifleman at his practice and the sapper at his
toil; the inciting word that reanimated the recruit and recalled to the
veteran the glories of Sicilian struggles -- all vanished -- all seemed
spiritless and dull, and the armorer clinked his forge as if he were the
heartless hireling of a king.

In this state of moral discomfiture there was one person who did not
lose his head, and this was the general. Calm, collected, and critical,
he surveyed the situation and indicated the possible contingencies.
"Our best, if not our only, chance," he said to Colonel Campian, "is
this -- that the Italian army now gathered in force upon the frontier
should march to Rome and arrive there before the French. Whatever then
happens, we shall at least get rid of the great imposture, but in all
probability the French and Italians will fight. In that case I shall
join the Savoyards, and in the confusion we may do some business yet."

"This embarkation," said the colonel, "explains the gathering of the
Italians on the frontier. They must have foreseen this event at
Florence. They never can submit to another French occupation. It would
upset their throne. The question is, who will be at Rome first."

"Just so," said the general; "and as it is an affair upon which all
depends, and is entirely beyond my control, I think I shall now take a
nap." So saying, he turned into his tent, and, in five minutes, this
brave and exact man, but in whom the muscular development far exceeded
the nervous, was slumbering without a dream.

Civita Vecchia was so near at hand, and the scouts of the general were
so numerous and able, that he soon learned the French had not yet
arrived, and another day elapsed and still no news of the French. But,
on the afternoon of the following day, the startling but authentic
information arrived, that, after the French army having embarked and
remained two days in port, the original orders had been countermanded,
and the troops had absolutely disembarked.

There was a cheer in the camp when the news was known, and Theodora
started from her desolation, surprised that there could be in such a
scene a sound of triumph. Then there was another cheer, and though she
did not move, but remained listening and leaning on her arm, the light
returned to her eyes. The cheer was repeated, and there were steps
about her tent. She caught the voice of Lothair speaking to her
attendant, and adjuring her to tell her mistress immediately that there
was good news, and that the French troops had disembarked. Then he
heard her husband calling Theodora.

The camp became a scene of excitement and festivity which, in general,
only succeeds some signal triumph. The troops lived always in the air,
except in the hours of night, when the atmosphere of the mountains in
the late autumn is dangerous. At present they formed groups and parties
in the vicinity of the tents; there was their gay canteen and there
their humorous kitchen. The man of the Gulf with his rich Venetian
banter and the Sicilian with his scaramouch tricks got on very well with
the gentle and polished Tuscan, and could amuse without offending the
high Roman soul; but there were some quips and cranks and sometimes some
antics which were not always relished by the simpler men from the
islands, and the offended eye of a Corsican sometimes seemed to threaten
"vendetta."

About sunset, Colonel Campian led forth Theodora. She was in female
attire, and her long hair, restrained only by a fillet, reached nearly
to the ground. Her Olympian brow seemed distended; a phosphoric light
glittered in her Hellenic eyes; a deep pink spot burnt upon each of
those cheeks usually so immaculately fair.

The general and the chief officers gathered round her with their
congratulations, but she would visit all the quarters. She spoke to the
men in all the dialects of that land of many languages. The men of the
Gulf, in general of gigantic stature, dropped their merry Venetian
stories and fell down on their knees and kissed the hem of her garment;
the Scaramouch forgot his tricks, and wept as he would to the Madonna;
Tuscany and Rome made speeches worthy of the Arno and the Forum; and the
Corsicans and the islanders unsheathed their poniards and brandished
them in the air, which is their mode of denoting affectionate devotion.
As the night advanced, the crescent moon glittering above the Apennine,
Theodora, attended by the whole staff, having visited all the troops,
stopped at the chief fire of the camp, and in a voice which might have
maddened nations sang the hymn of Roman liberty, the whole army ranged
in ranks along the valley joining in the solemn and triumphant chorus.



CHAPTER 58


This exaltation of feeling in the camp did not evaporate. All felt that
they were on the eve of some great event, and that the hour was at hand.
And it was in this state of enthusiasm that couriers arrived with the
intelligence that Garibaldi had escaped from Caprera, that he had
reached Nerola in safety, and was in command of the assembled forces;
and that the general was, without loss of time, to strike his camp, join
the main body at a given place, and then march to Rome.

The breaking-up of the camp was as the breaking-up of a long frost and
the first scent of spring. There was a brightness in every man's face
and a gay elasticity in all their movements. But when the order of the
day informed them that they must prepare for instant combat, and that in
eight-and-forty hours they would probably be in face of the enemy, the
hearts of the young recruits fluttered with strange excitement, and the
veterans nodded to each other with grim delight.

It was nearly midnight when the troops quitted the valley, through a
defile, in an opposite direction to the pass by which they had entered
it. It was a bright night. Colonel Campian had the command of the
division in advance, which was five hundred strong. After the defile,
the country, though hilly, was comparatively open, and here the advanced
guard was to halt until the artillery and cavalry had effected the
passage, and this was the most laborious and difficult portion of the
march, but all was well considered, and all went right. The artillery
and cavalry, by sunrise, had joined the advanced guard, who were
bivouacking in the rocky plain, and about noon the main columns of the
infantry began to deploy from the heights, and, in a short time, the
whole force was in the field. Soon after this some of the skirmishers,
who had been sent forward, returned, and reported the enemy in force,
and in a strong position, commanding the intended route of the invading
force. On this the general resolved to halt for a few hours, and rest
and refresh the troops, and to recommence their march after sunset, so
that, without effort, they might be in the presence of the enemy by
dawn.

Lothair had been separated from Theodora during this, to him, novel and
exciting scene. She had accompanied her husband, but, when the whole
force advanced in battle array, the general had desired that she should
accompany the staff. They advanced through the night, and by dawn they
were fairly in the open country. In the distance, and in the middle of
the rough and undulating plain, was a round hill with an ancient city,
for it was a bishop's see, built all about and over it. It would have
looked like a gigantic beehive, had it not been for a long convent on
the summit, flanked by some stone-pines, as we see in the pictures of
Gaspar and Claude.

Between this city and the invading force, though not in a direct line,
was posted the enemy in a strong position; their right wing protected by
one of the mounds common in the plain, and their left backed by an
olive-wood of considerable extent, and which grew on the last rocky spur
of the mountains. They were, therefore, as regards the plain, on
commanding ground. The strength of the two forces was not unequal, and
the papal troops were not to be despised, consisting, among others, of a
detachment of the legion of Antibes and the Zouaves. They had
artillery, which was well posted.

The general surveyed the scene, for which he was not unprepared.
Disposing his troops in positions in which they were as much protected
as possible from the enemy's fire, he opened upon them a fierce and
continuous cannonade, while he ordered Colonel Campian and eight hundred
men to fall back among the hills, and, following a circuitous path which
had been revealed by a shepherd, gain the spur of the mountains, and
attack the enemy in their rear through the olive-wood. It was
calculated that this movement, if successful, would require about three
hours, and the general, for that period of the time, had to occupy the
enemy and his own troops with what were, in realty, feint attacks.

When the calculated time had elapsed, the general became anxious, and
his glass was never from his eye. He was posted on a convenient ridge,
and the wind, which was high this day from the sea, frequently cleared
the field from the volumes of smoke; so his opportunities of observation
were good. But the three hours passed, and there was no sign of the
approach of Campian, and he ordered Sarano, with his division, to
advance toward the mound and occupy the attention of the right wing of
the enemy; but, very shortly after Lothair had carried this order, and
four hours having elapsed, the general observed some confusion in the
left wing of the enemy, and, instantly countermanding the order,
commanded a general attack in line. The troops charged with enthusiasm,
but they were encountered with a resolution as determined. At first
they carried the mound, broke the enemy's centre, and were mixed up with
their great guns; but the enemy fiercely rallied, and the invaders were
repulsed. The papal troops retained their position, and their opponents
were in disorder on the plain, and a little dismayed. It was at this
moment that Theodora rushed forward, and, waving a sword in one hand,
and in the other the standard of the republic, exclaimed, "Brothers, to
Rome!"

This sight inflamed their faltering hearts, which, after all, were
rather confounded than dismayed. They formed and rallied round her, and
charged with renewed energy at the very moment that Campian had brought
the force of his division on the enemy's rear. A panic came over the
papal troops, thus doubly assailed, and their rout was complete. They
retreated in the utmost disorder to Viterbo, which they abandoned that
night, and hurried to Rome.

At the last moment, when the victory was no longer doubtful, and all
were in full retreat or in full pursuit, a Zouave, in wantonness, firing
his weapon before he throw it away, sent a random-shot which struck
Theodora, and she fell. Lothair, who had never left her during the
battle, was at her side in a moment, and a soldier, who had also marked
the fatal shot; and, strange to say, so hot and keen was the pursuit,
that, though a moment before they seemed to be in the very thick of the
strife, they almost instantaneously found themselves alone, or rather
with no companions than the wounded near them. She looked at Lothair,
but, at first, could not speak. She seemed stunned, but soon murmured:
"Go! go! you are wanted!"

At this moment the general rode up with some of his staff. His
countenance was elate, and his eye sparkled with fire. But, catching
the figure of Lothair kneeling on the field, he reined in his charger
and said, "What is this?" Then looking more closely, he instantly
dismounted, and muttering to himself, "This mars the victory," he was at
Theodora's side.

A slight smile came over her when she recognized the general, and she
faintly pressed his hand, and then said again: "Go, go; you are all
wanted."

"None of up are wanted. The day is won; we must think of you."

"Is it won?" she murmured.

"Complete."

"I die content."

"Who talks of death?" said the general. "This is a wound, but I have
had some worse. What we must think of now are remedies. I passed an
ambulance this moment. Run for, it," he said to his aide-de-camp. "We
must stanch the wound at once; but it is only a mile to the city, and!
then we shall find every thing, for we were expected. I will ride on,
and there shall be proper attendance ready before you arrive. You will
conduct our friend to the city," he said to Lothair, "and be of good
courage, as I am."



CHAPTER 59


The troops were rushing through the gates of the city when the general
rode up. There was a struggling and stifling crowd; cheers and shrieks.
It was that moment of wild fruition, when the master is neither
recognized nor obeyed. It is not easy to take a bone out of a dog's
mouth; nevertheless, the presence of the general in time prevailed,
something like order was established, and, before the ambulance could
arrive, a guard had been appointed to receive it, and the ascent to the
monastery, where a quarter was prepared, kept clear.

During the progress to the city Theodora never spoke, but she seemed
stunned rather than suffering; and once, when Lothair, who was walking
by her side, caught her glance with his sorrowful and anxious face, she
put forth her head, and pressed his.

The ascent to the convent was easy, and the advantages of air and
comparative tranquillity which the place offered counterbalanced the
risk of postponing, for a very brief space, the examination of the
wound.

They laid her on their arrival on a large bed, without poles or canopy,
in a lofty whitewashed room of considerable dimensions, clean and airy,
with high, open windows. There was no furniture in the room except a
chair, a table, and a crucifix. Lothair took her in his arms and laid
her on the bed; and the common soldier who had hitherto assisted him, a
giant in stature, with a beard a foot long, stood by the bedside crying
like a child. The chief surgeon almost at the same moment arrived with
an aide-de-camp of the general, and her faithful female attendant, and
in a few minutes her husband, himself wounded and covered with dust.