Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

THE MEMOIRS

OF

JOSEPH GARIBALDI.

CHAPTER I.

MY PARENTS.

I WAS born at Nice, on the 22nd of July, 1807, not only in the same house, but in the same chamber in which Massena was born. As is well known, the illustrious marshal was the son of a baker. The groundfloor of the house is to this day a bakehouse.

But before speaking of myself, let me be permitted to say a few words about my excellent parents, whose honourable character and deep tenderness had such an influence on my education and the development of my physical powers.

My father, Dominique Garibaldi, born at Chiavari, was the son of a sailor, and a sailor himself; his eyes on opening beheld the sea, upon which nearly the whole of his life was to pass. Certes, he was far from possessing the knowledge which is the appanage of some men of his condition, particularly the men of our time. He had obtained his maritime education, not in a special school, but in the vessels of my grandfather. Later he had commanded a vessel of his own, and had always borne an honourable character. His fortunes had experienced many vicissitudes, some good, some bad, and I have often heard it said that he might have left us richer than he did.

But as to that, it is of little consequence. He was

quite at liberty, my poor father, to spend as he liked money so laboriously earned, and I am none the less grateful to him for the little he has left me.

For the rest, there is one thing of which there is no doubt in my mind, and that is, of all the money he cast to the winds, that which slipped through his hands with the greatest pleasure was that which he employed in my education, although that education was a heavy charge upon his slender means.

I

Let no one run, however, away with the idea that my education was the least in the world aristocratic. No, my father did not have me taught either gymnastics, or the use of arms, or horsemanship. learnt gymnastics by climbing among the shrouds, and in slipping along the ropes; the use of the sword I learnt in defending my own head, and in giving my best endeavours to split those of others; and equitation, by following the example of the best horsemen in the world, that is to say, the Gauchos.

The only exercise of my youth-and for that, neither, had I any master-was swimming. When and how I learnt to swim I cannot at all remember; it seems to me that I must always have known how, and that I was born amphibious. Therefore, in spite of the little inclination which all who are acquainted with me know I have to sound my own trumpet, I will simply say, without believing I am boasting, that I am one of the strongest swimmers in existence. It must not, then, be thought too much of, considering the confidence I had in myself, if I have never hesitated to throw myself into the water to save the life of a fellow-creature.

Besides, if my father did not have me taught all these exercises, it was less his fault than that of the times. At that sad period, the priests were the absolute masters of Piedmont; and their constant efforts, their assiduous labours, tended rather to make young men useless idle monks, than citizens eager to serve our unhappy country. In addition to this, the deep love which my poor father entertained for us all made

him dread even the shadow of any study which might afterwards prove dangerous to us.

As to my mother, Rosa Raguindo, I declare with pride, she was the very model of a woman. Certes, every son ought to say of his mother what I say of mine; but no one will say it with a more perfect conviction than I do.

One of the bitters of my life, and not the least, has been not to have been able to render her happy; but, on the contrary, to have saddened and made painful the latter days of her existence! God alone can know the anguish which my adventurous career has given her, for God alone can know the immensity of the affection she bore me. If there is any good feeling in my nature, I loudly declare that it is from her I received it. Her angelic character could not do otherwise than have its reflex in me. Is it not to her pity for the unfortunate to her compassion for the suffering, that I owe that great love, I will say more, that profound charity for my country, which has procured me the affection and sympathy of my unfortunate fellowcitizens? Certes, I am not superstitious, and yet I will affirm this, that in the most terrible instances of my life, when the ocean roared under the keel and against the sides of my vessel, which it tossed like a cork-when bullets whistled in my ears like the wind of the tempest-when balls showered around me like hail-1 constantly saw her on her knees, buried in prayer, bent at the feet of the Most High, and for me. That which gave me that courage at which people have sometimes been astonished, was the conviction I felt that no harm could happen to me while so holy a woman, while such an angel, was praying for me.

CHAPTER II.

MY EARLY YEARS.

I PASSED the first years of my youth as all children pass them-amidst smiles and tears, fonder of pleasure than of work, of amusement than study; so that I did not profit as I might have done, if I had been more steady, by the sacrifices my parents made for me. Nothing extraordinary happened to me in my childhood. I had a good heart; that was the gift of God and my mother, and for the emotions of that good heart I have always voluptuously satisfied them. I entertained a profound pity for everything that was little, weak, or suffering. This pity extended even to animals, or rather commenced with animals. I remember, one day, finding a cricket, which I carried to my chamber; and there while playing with it, and touching it with the awkwardness, or rather with the roughness, of childhood, I pulled off one of its feet. My grief was such that I remained several hours shut up, weeping bitterly.

Another time, when hunting with one of my cousins in the Var, I stopped on the banks of a deep ditch, where the washerwomen were accustomed to wash their linen, and where one poor woman was then so employed. I don't know how it happened, but she fell into the water. Young as I was-I was scarcely eight years old-I threw myself into the water, and saved her. I only relate this to prove how natural the feeling is in me which leads me to succour my fellowcreatures, and how little merit there is in my yielding to it.

Among the masters I had at this period, I preserve a particularly grateful remembrance of Father Giovanni and M. Arenà. With the former I profited but little, being much more disposed to play and be idle, as I have said, than to work. I have always, in particular, felt regret at not having studied English, as I might have done-a regret which returned to me on

all occasions-and they have been many-when I have met with Englishmen. Besides, Father Giovanni lived in our house, and was, in a manner, one of the family; and my lessons suffered from the too great familiarity that existed between us. To the second-an excellent master-I owe the little I know; but I owe him, above everything, eternal gratitude for having initiated me in my maternal language, by the constant reading of the Roman history.

The error of not instructing children in the language and things of their own country is frequently committed in Italy, particularly at Nice, where the neighbourhood of France has a great influence upon education. I am indebted, therefore, to this early reading of our history, and to the persistency with which my elder brother, Angelo, recommended to me the study of it, as well as of our beautiful language, for the little historical knowledge I have succeeded in acquiring, and the facility of expressing myself when speaking.

I will terminate this first period of my life by the recital of a fact, which, although of little importance, will give an idea of my inclination for a life of ad

venture.

Tired of school and of my sedentary existence, I, one day, proposed to some of my companions to run away to Genoa. No sooner said than done. We unfastened a fishing-boat, and there we were, sailing away to the eastward. We were already off Monaco, when a corsair, sent by my excellent father, captured us, and conveyed us, covered with shame, to our respective homes. An abbé, who had seen us start, had denounced us; whence, perhaps, arises my little sympathy for abbés. The companions of my adventure were, I remember, Cæsar Parodi, Raffaelo d'Andreis, and Celestino Bumond.

« AnteriorContinuar »