Miscellaneous Prose
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George Meredith >> Miscellaneous Prose
A talk on the present state of political affairs, and on the peculiar
position of Italy, is the only subject worth notice in a letter from the
camp. Everything else is at a standstill, and the movements of the fine
army Cialdini now disposes of, about 150,000 men, are no longer full of
interest. They may, perhaps, have some as regards an attack on Venice,
because Austrian soldiers are still garrisoning it, and will be obliged
to fight if they are assailed. It is hoped, if such is the case, that
the beautiful queen of the Adriatic will be spared a scene of
devastation, and that no new Haynau will be found to renew the deeds of
Brescia and Vicenza.
The king has not yet arrived, and it seems probable he will not come for
some time, until indeed the day comes for Italian troops to make their
triumphal entry into the city of the Doges.
The heat continues intense, and this explains the slowness in advancing.
As yet no sickness has appeared, and it must be hoped that the troops
will be healthy, as sickness tries the morale much more than half-a-dozen
Custozzas.
P.S.--I had finished writing when an officer came rushing into the inn
where I am staying and told me that he had just heard that an Italian
patrol had met an Austrian one on the road out of the village, and routed
it. This may or may not be true, but it was must curious to see how
delighted every one was at the idea that they had found 'them' at last.
They did not care much about the result of the engagement, which, as I
said, was reported to have been favourable. All that they cared about
was that they were close to the enemy. One cannot despair of an army
which is animated with such spirits. You would think, from the joy which
brightens the face of the soldiers you meet now about, that a victory had
been announced for the Italian arms.
DOLO, NEAR VENICE, July 20, 1866.
I returned from Noale to Padua last evening, and late in the night I
received the intimation at my quarters that cannon was heard in the
direction of Venice. It was then black as in Dante's hell, and raining
and blowing with violence--one of those Italian storms which seem to
awake all the earthly and heavenly elements of creation. There was no
choice for it but to take to the saddle, and try to make for the front.
No one who has not tried it can fancy what work it is to find one's way
along a road on which a whole corps d'amee is marching with an enormous
materiel of war in a pitch dark night. This, however, is what your
special correspondent was obliged to do. Fortunately enough, I had
scarcely proceeded as far as Ponte di Brenta when I fell in with an
officer of Cialdini's staff, who was bound to the same destination,
namely, Dolo. As we proceeded along the road under a continuous shower
of rain, our eyes now and then dazzled by the bright serpent-like flashes
of the lightning, we fell in with some battalion or squadron, which
advanced carefully, as it was impossible for them as well as for us to
discriminate between the road and the ditches which flank it, for all the
landmarks, so familiar to our guides in the daytime, were in one dead
level of blackness. So it was that my companion and myself, after
stumbling into ditches and out of them, after knocking our horses' heads
against an ammunition car, or a party of soldiers sheltered under some
big tree, found ourselves, after three hours' ride, in this village of
Dolo. By this time the storm had greatly abated in its violence, and the
thunder was but faintly heard now and then at such a distance as to
enable us distinctly to hear the roar of the guns. Our horses could
scarcely get through the sticky black mud, into which the white
suffocating dust of the previous days had been turned by one night's
rain. We, however, made our way to the parsonage of the village, for we
had already made up our minds to ascend the steeple of the church to get
a view of the surrounding country and a better hearing of the guns if
possible. After a few words exchanged with the sexton--a staunch
Italian, as he told us he was--we went up the ladder of the church spire.
Once on the wooden platform, we could hear more distinctly the boom of
the guns, which sounded like the broadsides of a big vessel. Were they
the guns of Persano's long inactive fleet attacking some of Brondolo's or
Chioggia's advanced forts? Were the guns those of some Austrian man-of-
war which had engaged an Italian ironclad; or were they the
'Affondatore,' which left the Thames only a month ago, pitching into
Trieste? To tell the truth, although we patiently waited two long hours
on Dolo church spire, when both I and my companion descended we were not
in a position to solve either of these problems. We, however, thought
then, and still think, they were the guns of the Italian fleet which had
attacked an Austrian fort.
CIVITA VECCHIA, July 22, 1866.
Since the departure from this port of the old hospital ship 'Gregeois'
about a year ago, no French ship of war had been stationed at Civita
Vecchia; but on Wednesday morning the steam-sloop 'Catinat,' 180 men,
cast anchor in the harbour, and the commandant immediately on
disembarking took the train for Rome and placed himself in communication
with the French ambassador. I am not aware whether the Pontifical
government had applied for this vessel, or whether the sending it was a
spontaneous attention on the part of the French emperor, but, at any
rate, its arrival has proved a source of pleasure to His Holiness, as
there is no knowing what may happen In troublous times like the present,
and it is always good to have a retreat insured.
Yesterday it was notified in this port, as well as at Naples, that
arrivals from Marseilles would be, until further notice, subjected to a
quarantine of fifteen days in consequence of cholera having made its
appearance at the latter place. A sailing vessel which arrived from
Marseilles in the course of the day had to disembark the merchandise it
brought for Civita Vecchia into barges off the lazaretto, where the
yellow flag was hoisted over them. This vessel left Marseilles five days
before the announcement of the quarantine, while the 'Prince Napoleon' of
Valery's Company, passenger and merchandise steamer, which left
Marseilles only one day before its announcement, was admitted this
morning to free pratique. Few travellers will come here by sea now.
MARSEILLES, July 24.
Accustomed as we have been of late in Italy to almost hourly bulletins of
the progress of hostilities, it is a trying condition to be suddenly
debarred of all intelligence by finding oneself on board a steamer for
thirty-six hours without touching at any port, as was my case in coming
here from Civita Vecchia on board the 'Prince Napoleon.' But, although
telegrams were wanting, discussions on the course of events were rife on
board among the passengers who had embarked at Naples and Civita Vecchia,
comprising a strong batch of French and Belgian priests returning from a
pilgrimage to Rome, well supplied with rosaries and chaplets blessed by
the Pope and facsimiles of the chains of St. Peter. Not much sympathy
for the Italian cause was shown by these gentlemen or the few French and
German travellers who, with three or four Neapolitans, formed the
quarterdeck society; and our Corsican captain took no pains to hide his
contempt at the dilatory proceedings of the Italian fleet at Ancona. We
know that the Prussian minister, M. d'Usedom, has been recently making
strenuous remonstrances at Ferrara against the slowness with which the
Italian naval and military forces were proceeding, while their allies,
the Prussians, were already near the gates of Vienna; and the
conversation of a Prussian gentleman on board our steamer, who was
connected with that embassy, plainly indicated the disappointment felt
at Berlin at the rather inefficacious nature of the diversion made in
Venetia, and on the coast of Istria by the army and navy of Victor
Emmanuel. He even attributed to his minister an expression not very
flattering either to the future prospects of Italy as resulting from her
alliance with Prussia, or to the fidelity of the latter in carrying out
the terms of it. I do not know whether this gentleman intended his
anecdote to be taken cum grano salis, but I certainly understood him to
say that he had deplored to the minister the want of vigour and the
absence of success accompanying the operations of the Italian allies of
Prussia, when His Excellency replied: 'C'est bien vrai. Ils nous ont
tromps; mais que voulez-vous y faire maintenant? Nous aurons le temps de
les faire egorger apres.'
It is difficult to suppose that there should exist a preconceived
intention on the part of Prussia to repay the sacrifices hitherto made,
although without a very brilliant accompaniment of success, by the
Italian government in support of the alliance, by making her own separate
terms with Austria and leaving Italy subsequently exposed to the
vengeance of the latter, but such would certainly be the inference to be
drawn from the conversation just quoted.
It was only on arriving in the port of Marseilles, however, that the full
enmity of most of my travelling companions towards Italy and the Italians
was manifested. A sailor, the first man who came on board before we
disembarked, was immediately pounced upon for news, and he gave it as
indeed nothing less than the destruction, more or less complete, of the
Italian fleet by that of the Austrians. At this astounding intelligence
the Prussian burst into a yell of indignation. 'Fools! blockheads!
miserables! Beaten at sea by an inferior force! Is that the way they
mean to reconquer Venice by dint of arms? If ever they do regain Venetia
it will be through the blood of our Brandenburghers and Pomeranians, and
not their own.' During this tirade a little old Belgian in black, with
the chain of St. Peter at his buttonhole by way of watchguard, capered
off to communicate the grateful news to a group of his ecclesiastical
fellow-travellers, shrieking out in ecstasy:
'Rosses, Messieurs! Ces blagueurs d'Italiens ont ete rosses par mer,
comme ils avaient ete rosses par terre.' Whereupon the reverend
gentlemen congratulated each other with nods, and winks, and smiles,
and sundry fervent squeezes of the hand. The same demonstrations would
doubtless have been made by the Neapolitan passengers had they belonged
to the Bourbonic faction, but they happened to be honest traders with
cases of coral and lava for the Paris market, and therefore they merely
stood silent and aghast at the fatal news, with their eyes and mouths as
wide open as possible. I had no sooner got to my hotel than I inquired
for the latest Paris journal, when the France was handed me, and I
obtained confirmation in a certain degree of the disaster to the Italian
fleet narrated by the sailor, although not quite in the same formidable
proportions.
Before quitting the subject of my fellow-passengers on board the 'Prince
Napoleon' I must mention an anecdote related to me, respecting the state
of brigandage, by a Russian or German gentleman, who told me he was
established at Naples. He was complaining of the dangers he had
occasionally encountered in crossing in a diligence from Naples to Foggia
on business; and then, speaking of the audacity of brigands in general,
he told me that last year he saw with his own eyes; in broad daylight,
two brigands walking about the streets of Naples with messages from
captured individuals to their relations, mentioning the sums which had
been demanded for their ransoms. They were unarmed, and in the common
peasants' dresses, and whenever they arrived at one of the houses to
which they were addressed for this purpose, they stopped and opened a
handkerchief which one of them carried in his hand, and took out an ear,
examining whether the ticket on it corresponded with the address of the
house or the name of the resident. There were six ears, all ticketed
with the names of the original owners in the handkerchief, which were
gradually dispensed to their families in Naples to stimulate: prompt
payment of the required ransoms. On my inquiring how it was that the
police took no notice of such barefaced operations, my informant told me
that, previous to the arrival of these brigand emissaries in town, the
chief always wrote to the police authorities warning them against
interfering with them, as the messengers were always followed by spies
in plain clothes belonging to the band who would immediately report any
molestation they might encounter in the discharge of their delicate
mission, and the infallible result of such molestation would be first
the putting to death of all the hostages held for ransom; and next,
the summary execution of several members of gendarmery and police force
captured in various skirmishes by the brigands, and held as prisoners of
war.
Such audacity would seem incredible if we had not heard and read of so
many similar instances of late.
ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
A very doubtful benefit
Americans forgivingly remember, without mentioning
As becomes them, they do not look ahead
Charges of cynicism are common against all satirists
Fourth of the Georges
Here and there a plain good soul to whom he was affectionate
Holy images, and other miraculous objects are sold
It is well to learn manners without having them imposed on us
Men overweeningly in love with their creations
Must be the moralist in the satirist if satire is to strike
Not a page of his books reveals malevolence or a sneer
Petty concessions are signs of weakness to the unsatisfied
Statesman who stooped to conquer fact through fiction
The social world he looked at did not show him heroes
The exhaustion ensuing we named tranquillity
Utterance of generous and patriotic cries is not sufficient
We trust them or we crush them
We grew accustomed to periods of Irish fever
[The End]
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