Garibaldi Giuseppe
Rule of the Monk; Or, Rome in the Nineteenth Century
CHAPTER LX. THE BURIAL
Foscolo has these lines —
A stone to mark my bones from the vaut crop
That death soirs on the land or in the sea.
Admiring the mournful poems of this great singer, we are, like him, advocates for honoring the great dead, and truly we believe that doing homage to departed virtue is an incentive to make the living follow in its path. When one thinks, however, of the gaudy pageants with which the priesthood deck the last journey of the dead, one can not help deploring the useless show and the expenditure.
Death that true type of the equality of human beings – death which effectually destroys all worldly superiority, and confounds in one democracy of decay the emperor and the beggar – death, the leveller, must be astonished at so much difference between the funerals of the rich and the poor! He must wonder at so much preparation for the burial of a corpse, and laugh, if death can laugh, at so much mockery of woe, which is frequently the cover for secret joy in the soul of the greedy heir, while in the largest number it is mere indifference. Then the hired weepers – what a pitiful spectacle those are!
We have seen in Moldavia, and we believe the custom is adopted in other countries, that at the funeral of a Bojar a number of women are hired to weep, and what tears they shed! what shouts do those miserable beings utter! As to the grief they must have felt, it was measured by their pay.
These mourners have sometimes returned to our memory while reading parliamentary debates during which certain hired people, or those who hope for hire, burst out into a profusion of "bravi" and "bravissimi" at the insulting speeches, or often at the unprincipled projects, of this or that prime minister.
Prince T – 's funeral was largely attended, because it was known that he was a man of mark. Among the crowd of people who followed the remains, most of them with the greatest indifference, there could be distinguished a few really sad faces. Those were the friends of the dead man, Attilio, Muzio, and Gasparo. The latter especially had eyes swollen by weeping.
The strong nature of the old Roman chief had been shaken by the loss of his friend and master to whom he had been sincerely attached – a proof at once of the kindly nature of the prince, and of the faithful heart of the exile. Was he weeping for the prince? No; for the friend and benefactor.
Oh, how many true friends might the great of the world possess, if they would but open their hearts to generosity – if they would soften the injustice of fate towards those upon whom she lays an unequal hand!
Many there are among the higher classes, I know, who are beneficence itself, and some of the women of the noblest houses are distinguished for their amiability and goodness. But these instances are not sufficient for the suffering multitude; and the majority of the favorites of fortune are not only indifferent to the unfortunate – they seem to add voluntarily to their trials.
The duty and the care of good government should be to ameliorate the poor man's condition; but, unhappily, that duty is unfulfilled, that care is not undertaken. Government thinks only of its own preservation, and of strengthening its own position; to this end it exercises corruption to obtain satellites and accomplices.
The mass of the prosperous might, to a great extent, correct the capital defect of administration by relieving misery and improving the condition of the people. If the rich would thus only deprive themselves of but a small portion of their superfluities! While the poor want the very necessaries of existence, the tables of the wealthy abound with endless varieties of food, and the rarest and most costly wines. Does the rich man never feel the compunction of conscience which such shameless contrasts ought to bring?
"Why such grief for the loss of one of our enemies, capitano?"
These words were accompanied by a tap on Gasparo's shoulder, both proceeding from an odd-looking man, who was following in the funeral procession. Gasparo turned round, stood for a moment considering his familiar interlocutor, then uttering an exclamation little suited to the solemnity of the scene, and very surprising to those around him – "Evil be to the seventy-two! (a Roman oath), and is it really thee, Marzio?"
"Who else should it be, if not your lieutenant, capitano mio?"
The acquaintance of Gasparo had the type of the regular Italian brigand. The old man, during the few months of his city life, had somewhat re-polished his appearance; but Marzio, on the contrary, presented the rude aspect of the Roman bandit pure and simple. Tall and squarely-built, it was difficult to meet without a shudder the fierce look darted from those densely black eyes. His hair, black and glossy as a raven, contrasted with his beard, once as dark, now sprinkled with gray. His costume, though somewhat cleaner, differed in other respects very little from that rustic masquerade worn when he had filled the whole country with terror. The famous doublet of dark velvet was not wanting, and if there were not visible externally those indispensable brigand accessories, pistols, dagger, or a two-edged knife, it was a sign that those articles were carefully hidden within. Hats are worn in different fashions, even by brigands, and Marzio wore his a little inclined towards the right side, like a workman's. Leathern gaiters had been abandoned by Marzio, and he wore his pantaloons, loose ones of blue, with ample pockets.
The occasion did not offer the two men much opportunity of conversation; but it was evident that they met with mutual pleasure and sympathy.
In these times when Italian honor and glory are a mockery, the handful of men called brigands, who have for seven years sustained themselves against one large army, two other armies of carabiniers, a part of another army of national guards, and an entire hostile population – that handful of men, call them what you will, is at least brave. If you rulers, instead of maintaining the disgraceful institution of the priest, had occupied yourselves in securing the instruction of the people, these very brigands, instead of becoming the instruments of priestly reaction, would at this moment have been in our ranks, teaching us how one stout fellow can fight twenty.
This, my kind word for the "honest" brigands, is not for the assassins, be it understood. And one little piece of comment upon you who sit in high places. When you assaulted the Roman walls – for religious purposes of course – robbing and slaying the poor people who thought you came as Mends, were you less brigands? No, you were worse than banditti – you were traitors.
But you will tell me, "those were republicans and revolutionists, men who trouble the world." And what were you but troublers of the world, and false traitors? This difference exists between your majesties and the bandit: he robs, but seldom kills, while you have not only robbed, but stained your hands for plunder's sake in innocent blood!
Pardon, reader, that this digression has left you in the midst of a funeral, and that the writer has too passionately diverged from his path to glance at brigandage on the large as well as the small scale.
When the funeral party reached the cemetery, the remains of the dead were lowered into a grave, over which no voice spoke a word of eulogy. With all the will to effect good, the action of this young life had been cut short by a premature and rash death. What could be said of the blossom of noble qualities to which time was denied to bring forth their fruits?
CHAPTER LXI. THE NARRATIVE
We will leave our friends occupied in consoling the afflicted Irene for the loss of her brother, whom she had sincerely loved.
The last of a proud race! This thought would press upon the mind of the fair lady, who, despite her willingness to form a plebeian alliance, still valued, as we have seen, the high rank of her family.
Of the personal fortune which came to her through her brother's death she had not thought, for she was of too generous a nature to mingle an idea of interest with the life or death of a beloved object. The prince's family property, besides, which was in the Roman territory, had been confiscated by those worthy servants of God whose possessions are "not of this world."
It was not until the friends had returned from the funeral that Attilio and Muzio had consulted with the General about imparting to his sister the knowledge of the fatal catastrophe. The General, calling Orazio and his wife into his room, then first informed them gently of the sad occurrence.
Gasparo, who, with the exception of Irene, grieved the most, found some relief to his sorrow in the newly-acquired society of his former lieutenant. He was also full of the desire to hear the adventures of the man whom he had thought lost forever. The two ci-devant banditti closely shut themselves up in Gasparo's room at the Victoria Hotel, at first conversing eagerly in interrogations and answers, nearly all monosyllabic, oratory not being the forte of brigands, who are more accustomed to deeds than words. After a time, the lieutenant began the following consecutive narrative: -
"After you had informed me, capitano mio, that you were tired of a forest life, and felt disposed to return to a private one, I continued my usual mode of existence, without ever deviating from the plan of action you had enjoined, which was to despoil the rich and the powerful, and to relieve the needy and wretched. Our companions, formed in your school, gave me little cause to reprove them; but if one failed in duty, I punished him without pity; and thus, by the grace of God, we lived for several years. The charms of womankind were always the rock on which our hearts split; and well you know it, capitano."
At these words, Gasparo began pointing to his snow-white mustache, doubtless remembering more than one gallant adventure in his career of peril.
The lieutenant continued: "You remember that Nanna, the girl that I adored, and on whose account I was so much persecuted by her parents? Don't for a moment suppose that that dear creature betrayed me; no, her soul was pure as an angel's." And the bold bandit chief put his hand to his eyes.
"She is dead, then!" exclaimed Gasparo.
"She is dead," repeated his companion; and a long silence followed.
Presently Marzio continued, "One day my Nanna, who was not well, had remained to pass the day in Marcello's house, where lived that poor Camilla, who had been violated and driven mad by the Cardinal – . As I had to accompany my men on an important affair, the dwelling was attacked in the night, and my treasure carried off to Rome.
"I was maddened, but not a stone did I leave unturned till I had discovered the place in which they had hidden Nanna. At last I learnt, through friends in that city, that the poor child was in the convent of St. Francis there, and that they had condemned her to serve the nuns, and never to see the light again.
"My wife in the service of nuns, in the service of betrayed young women and of old foxes! 'I will give you a servant!' I said to myself; 'and by heaven, the devil shall have the convent and the wretches it holds.'
"The night following I entered Rome alone; it seemed to me a cowardly action to have companions in an undertaking which concerned none but myself.
"I bought a large bundle of dried branches in the Piazza Navona. I deposited them in a tavern, and waited till it grew late. Towards eleven, o'clock, just before the house closed, I took my burden and hurried off towards 'St. Francis.' Who can prevent a poor wretch from carrying a bundle of wood home? Besides, Rome has one good point, which is that at night no one goes about for fear of the thieves, who are permitted, by the liberality of the priestly government, to do just as they please, as long as they do not interfere in politics.
"Having deposited my bundle at the gate of St. Francis, I pressed it closely in, prepared a box of lights to strike, and gave a searching look up and down the road.
"As will be easily understood, after the door was burnt, there would still remain the gratings; which would leave me pulling a very long face, and with little done. I was, therefore, obliged to make a noise, to attract the attention of those within. I then crossed the little square, and hid myself in a doorway, awaiting the appearance of some one, or at least a patrol. I had not long to wait, for after a few minutes I heard the measured tread of the patrol. Then, with that swiftness of foot which you know me to possess – "
Here Gasparo put in: "I should think I did! I remember that lord bishop who, having seen us at a distance on the road to Civita Vecchia, turned his horses, and set them in a gallop towards Rome, when you, in about the same time which I take to tell it, were already at the horses' heads, and had stopped the carriage."
"And what a take that was, captain!" said the lieutenant. "How we did enjoy ourselves! how prodigal we were with our money for some time afterwards – I mean with the proceeds of the poverty of the descendant of the Apostles." But let us return to our story.
"I flew to the bundle of wood, set it on fire, and returned to my hiding-place. In a few minutes a great blaze lit the convent gate, and soon afterwards we had a sight equal to that which the crater of a volcano shows. And the police? The sorriest rabble everywhere, but in no place have they reached such scoundrelism as in Rome. The police, naturally cowards and slow of movement, instead of running to the spot to extinguish the flames, began shouting and making a tremendous noise to arouse the neighborhood. Near the fire they never went until a goodly number of people appeared at the doors, and then hurried to the scene of action.
"'It is now my turn,' said I to myself, and I rushed into the mêlée. The nuns should have been pleased with such a champion to deliver them, surrounded as they were by a company of roughs.
"Matters could not, however, have progressed better. At the clamor from without, the nuns were not slow to awake, and the gratings flew open. They flew to the rescue themselves, with tubs, pails, basins of water – in fact, with any utensil they could lay their hands on. After pretending to assist in extinguishing the external flames, but with my eyes fixed on the interior, seeing all parties well occupied, I sprang in to the assistance of the nuns in their sanctuary. No sooner within, than I cast a searching glance npon the crowd of females assembled, and to the oldest, who appeared the Superior, I addressed myself. Grasping her arm, I exclaimed, 'Come with me!' I found more resistance in the old lady than I expected. At first she struggled, and would only walk by compulsion, collecting all her strength to oppose me: then she began to scream, and I was obliged to take her in my arms and to cover her face with a handkerchief.
"I was getting away from the crowd all the time, and arriving before the door of a cell which I found open, I entered with my burden. There was a light in the room, and the bed had been occupied. I laid the abbess npon it, and locked the door.
"She was astonished but not alarmed. I never saw a demon with such courage. 'Where is Nanna?' I began, in a way to startle her. No answer. 'Where is Nanna?' I repeated in a louder tone still. No answer. 'I will make you find your tongue, witch!' I cried; and drawing this bit of steel from my belt, I made it glitter before her eyes. Still no answer."
"By the Virgin," said Gasparo, "these abbesses are all alike, real demoniacs. At the defense of Rome in 1849, when it was needful to pass through the convent of the Sacred Heart to occupy the walls, they kept me waiting with my company at the gate for hours without opening it. When the abbess received the Government order for us to pass, she tore it in pieces. It was only when we began to knock down the doors with our axes that she allowed us to enter."
"Such was this one," recommenced Marzio. "I was not in a humor to play; I wanted Nanna, and a hundred lives such as the one before me would certainly not have stopped me from carrying out my object. Seizing her with one hand, clenching my dagger with the other, I was just touching her throat – not with the point of my dagger, for fear it should slip, but with a hairpin from her cap – I could easily see that the lady had no intention to reach martyrdom, as she was already beginning with-
"'For God's sake – '
"'My Nanna,' I cried, 'or I will send you to keep Satan company.'
"'For God's sake let me go!'
"'I released her head. She breathed hard, and passed her hand over her forehead.
"'You ask for a young girl of a good family, who came from Rome, and who has been a fortnight in the convent?'
"'I believe her to be the one I seek,' I replied.
"'Then I will lead you to her, on the one condition that you will cause no scandal in this sacred house.'
"'I desire nothing but to take my wife with me,' I answered.
"When somewhat recovered, she rose from the bed and said, 'Come with me.' I followed her for some time, and arrived at a dark corridor. We descended several staircases, and by the light of a taper which I had lit (I always carried a taper with me), I discovered an iron-barred door.
"'Poor Nanna,' I thought; 'what crime has the child committed that she should be thrown in this infernal den?'
"Having reached the bolted door, the abbess drew forth a key, and placed it in the lock. She turned it, and motioned to me to pull the door towards me, it being too heavy for her to move. I did what I was desired, without for a moment losing sight of my guide, whose company was too interesting for me to lose. On opening the door, I made the old lady enter first, and then followed. No sooner was I within, than a young dishevelled woman sprang on my neck, and clung to me desperately.
"'Oh, Marzio!' she exclaimed; and a flood of tears from my Nanna bathed my face.
"I am too much of a brigand not to take my precautions in an emergency. Though beyond myself with joy at the recovery of my darling, I nevertheless did not cease to keep my eyes on the old wretch, who, without a strict watch, would undoubtedly have escaped us.
"When the first moment of emotion had passed, clasping my treasure by the hand, I closed the door, and asked if there was another in her cell. She answered 'No.' The abbess, who had heard my question, said-
"'There is another door, and you had better leave by that, so as not to meet the sisters, who are doubtless searching for me now.'
"Here a fresh incident arose. Another young girl came forward in haste, and interrupted the discourse of the abbess. I had seen something moving in the darkest corner of the prison cell, but pre-occupation and the circumstances of the moment had prevented my thinking of it. All at once I perceived a young girl somewhere about the age of my Nanna. She hastened towards me, saying, with a voice of emotion: —
"'Surely you will not leave me alone in this prison. Oh, sir, I will follow Nanna through life and to death itself!'
"'Yes, Marzio,' added Nanna, 'for heaven's sake don't let us leave my unhappy friend in this wretched abode. She was destined by the abbess to seem my companion, and to act as a spy; but instead of that she has been an angel of comfort to me. She was charged to sound me, to gain information about you, to learn all she could of your companions – in fact, every particular, and then to report all to the abbess.'
"'So then things are carried on thus,' thought I, 'in these laboratories of falsehood and 'hypocrisy.'
"'She was charged to watch me, threaten me, torment me, in fact, in case I refused to divulge your hiding-places, your habitual rendezvous, your projects; but instead of that, she told me every thing, consoled, protected, reassured me, and said that she would rather die than injure me, or cause me any trouble.
"'Besides, yesterday, she saved me from the insults and violence of an infamous prelate, who introduced himself into this cell (no doubt by the help of that old wretch), and who even offered me bribes if I would listen to his wicked proposals. She saved me by rushing in and uttering loud cries.
"'In vain did they promise her liberty if she would induce me to comply with their wishes, but nothing have they ever been able to obtain. During the day they compel us to do the vilest work of the cloister, and at night they shut us up in this unclean den.'
"Tears again flowed on the lovely face of my dear one, while she uttered these words, and I assure you, captain, that my hand instinctively touched my dagger, with a wild wish to revenge Nanna's wrongs.
"I don't know how I restrained myself, for I was furious; I could have annihilated the vile being before me, but it was well I did not, for without her I should never again have seen the light of heaven. 'Where is the second door you speak of? whither does it lead?' I demanded.
"'It leads outside the convent,' she replied; 'remove that iron bed which stands in the corner, and I will show you.'
"I removed it, but saw nothing.
"'Try to stir the bricks where the mortar looks damp.'
"Taking hold of an iron bar from the bedstead, I began to move the bricks indicated. Finally I discovered a ring in a piece of wood, which showed the existence of a trap-door. I lifted the trap, and was surprised to find a staircase below. 'I must arrange the order of march,' said I to myself, 'and make the old witch the leader.' I then desired my young companions to follow, and giving one taper with little ceremony to the abbess, said to her, 'Forward!'
"'This then,' thought I, 'is the secret stair; and how many black deeds have been committed in these labyrinths? Ah! poor deluded people, who fancy you are sending your daughters to be educated in asylums of purity when you place your children in convents!'"
