Part 20 (2/2)

Attilio had to clap his hands three times, and at the third signal the combatants were to walk forward and fire a volonte. Already two signals were given; Attilio's hands were again raised to make the third, when a voice cried, from the spot where the gondolas awaited, ”Hold!”

The four men all turned in that direction, and saw one of the gondoliers, a venerable, gray-haired man, who was advancing towards them.

”Hold!” repeated the old man; and he came forward without stopping until he stood between the two antagonists. Then he spoke, with a somewhat faltering voice, yet still in a manly tone, with such force as could hardly have been expected in one of his breeding and age-

”Hold! sons of one mother! The act you are about to accomplish will stain one of you with the blood of a compatriot--blood which might flow for the welfare of this unhappy land, which has still so much to do ere she can attain the independence she has aimed at for so many centuries.

The vanquished will pa.s.s away without one word of love or blessing from those dear to him; the victor will remain for life with the sting of remorse in his heart. You, by whose bronzed and n.o.ble face I recognize a child of this unhappy land, has not Italy still many enemies? does she not need all her offspring to loosen the chains of centuries? Abandon, then, this fraticidal struggle, I beseech you, in the name of our common mother! Why should you gratify the enemies of Italy by the murder of her friends? You came forth antagonists, return companions and brothers!”

The waves of the Adriatic were breaking with more effect against the rocks that border Murazzi than the patriotic and humane words of the old man on the obstinate will of the two angry compatriots; and, with a certain aristocratic impulse of pride, the Prince exclaimed to his counsellor ”Retire!”

The seconds recommenced with the same number of signals as before, and at the third the adversaries marched towards one another, with pistol c.o.c.ked in the right hand, with eyes unflinchingly fixed on each other, and with the deliberate intention of homicide. About the twelfth step the Prince fired, his ball grazed the side of Morosini's neck, blood flowed, but the wound was slight. The soldier of Calatafimi, cooler than his antagonist, approached closer. At about eight paces he fired, and the brother of Irene sank on the ground--the ball had pierced his heart.

The Holy Office of the Vatican laughed at the news, with the infernal joy which it experiences every time that blood shed by private discord reddens the unhappy soil.

And who spilt that Italian blood? An Italian hand, alas! consecrated to the redemption of his country. How often it has been thus!

CHAPTER LVIII. ROME

Ok the second of December, the despot of the Seine, the false Emperor, the enemy of all liberty, and the great ally of all tyrants, after seventeen years of unrighteous rule, pretended, with the same hypocrisy with which he kept her enslaved, to liberate the Niobe of nations, the old metropolis of the world--the ruler, the martyr, the glory of the earth.

He carried on the work of Divine vengeance. Attila, at the head of his ferocious tribes, had conquered Rome, destroyed her, and exterminated her people. Was not this G.o.d's justice?

”Whosoever sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed!”

The ancient Romans ruled the world by subjugating the remotest nations, pillaging and breaking them down. Slavery, misery, and ruin, their ministers, compelled the nations of the earth to submit to their tyrants.

The successor of the Attilas, not less a robber than they, threw himself on an easy prey, and his false heart beat with joy when he clutched the victim. Yet even this action was but a caricature of the actions of the Attilas who have punished Rome. To accomplish great deeds, even of the evil sort, there must be great hearts, and he has a heart both little and cowardly. In all he does, we can see he intends to imitate his uncle; but the want of genius and energy makes the attempt a failure. Attila conquered, and made a pile of ruins of the proud victress-city. The modern Attila, in a Jesuit guise, did not destroy, did not ruin, because he considered the prey as his own property.

Afterwards, enfeebled by advancing years and luxury, his throne shaken to its foundation, he renewed his sinister undertakings in America, where he attempted to deal a death-blow to the sanctuary of the world's liberty--the great Republic--by building an Austrian empire at her gates.

And the Italian Government has accepted the bidding of the false Emperor, acting as the _sbirro_ of the Vatican, to hinder the Romans from liberating themselves, obliging them to submit to the government of the Holy Office, to deny to Italy her capital, though proclaimed by her parliament.

We firmly believe that a more cowardly Government than the Italian can not be found in ancient or modern history. It must be accepted as the fate of humanity to find ever side by side with so much good so much evil, humiliation, and wickedness. We say side by side, because it can not be denied that the unity of Italy is a marvel of good accomplished, in spite of all the efforts made by rulers and selfish factions to hold back this unfortunate country, by impoveris.h.i.+ng and perverting it, and by every means of depredation and deception.

But what a Government! Can, indeed, this agency of corruption be called a Government? And the unhappy people! what are they? Half of them bought over to hold the other half in bondage and in misery.

Hail, brave Mexicans! We envy your valor and constancy in freeing your land from the mercenaries of despotism! Accept, gallant descendants of Columbus, from your Italian brethren, congratulations on your redeemed liberty! On you was to be imposed a like tyranny, and you swept it away, as a n.o.ble and free river sweeps away impurity.

We alone--talkative, presumptuous, vain, boasting of glory, liberty, greatness--are yet enchained!--blindfolded, freeing ourselves with words, but unfit to accomplish by deeds that political reconstruction which alone would give us the right to sit down beside the other free nations. Trembling before the despotism of an unrighteous foreign tyrant, we dare not, for fear of him, walk about in our own homes, tell the world we are our own masters, or tear from our wrists the fetters which he has fixed there; and, more humiliating and degrading still, he has left the prey, which the indignation of the world forbade his appropriating, and has said, ”Keep her, cowards; become cut-throats in my stead; but beware of meddling with my will!”

Oh, Rome! Thou who art truly ”the only one!” Rome the eternal! Once above all human greatness! And now--now, how degraded! Thy resurrection must yet be a catastrophe, and a revolution, to shake the rest of the world!

CHAPTER LIX. VENICE AND THE BUCENTAUER

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