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to give me some notion of the manner in which things were going on in Italy. There was a glimmer of light for our unhappy country.

I declare aloud, that Christopher Columbus was not less happy when, lost in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and threatened by his companions, of whom he had demanded three days more, he heard, towards the end of the third day, the cry of "Land !" than I was on hearing the word Country pronounced, and on seeing in the horizon the first pharos lit by the French Revolution of 1830. There were really men then, engaged in the redemption of Italy!

In another voyage which I made on board the Clarinda, that vessel transported to Constantinople a section of the Saint Simonians, led by Emile Barrault. I had heard very little of the Saint Simonians; I only knew that these men were the persecuted apostles of a new religion. I made advances to their leader, and opened my bosom to him as an Italian patriot.

Then, during those transparent nights of the East, which, as Chateaubriand says, are not darkness, but only the absence of day, under that sky constellated with stars, upon that sea whose sharp breeze seems full of generous aspirations, we discussed, not only the narrow questions of nationality to which my patriotism had to that time been confined-questions restricted to Italy, to discussions from province to province—but further, the grand question of humanity.

In the first place the apostle proved to me that the man who defends his own country or who attacks the country of others, is but a soldier, pious in the first hypothesis-unjust in the second; but that the man who, making himself a cosmopolite, adopts the second as his country, and goes to offer his sword and his blood to every people struggling against tyranny, is more than a soldier: he is a hero.

There arose then in my mind strange glimmerings, by the light of which I saw in a ship no longer a vehicle charged with the exchange of the products of

one country for those of another, but a winged messenger bearing the word of the Lord and the sword of the Archangel. I became greedy for emotions, curious for new things, asking myself if this irresistible vocation, which I had at first believed simply to be that of a captain of the long voyage, had not for me horizons still unperceived. Of these horizons I fancied I had a glimpse through the vague and distant mists of the future.

CHAPTER V.

THE EVENTS OF ST. JULIAN.

THE destination of the bark on board which I returned this time from the East was Marseilles.

On arriving at that port I heard of the abortive revolution of Piedmont, and of the fusillades of Chambery, Alexandria, and Genoa.

At Marseilles I became acquainted with a man named Cové-Cové introduced me to Mazzini.

I was then far from anticipating the long community of principles which would one day unite me with the latter. No one was yet acquainted with the persistent, obstinate thinker to whom new Italy owes its laborious regeneration, and whom nothing discourages in the holy work he has undertaken, not even ingratitude.

It is not for me to formulate an opinion upon Mazzini, but I must be allowed to say that, after having had placed upon his head a crown of laurel which he merited, there has been crushed down upon his head a crown of thorns which he does not deserve.

At the fall of Vacchieri, Mazzini had uttered a true war-cry. He had written in the Young Italy: "Italians! the day is come, if we would remain worthy of our name, to mingle our blood with that of the Piedmontese martyrs !"

Such cries as these were not uttered with impunity

in France in 1833. Shortly after I had been introduced to him, and I had told him he could depend upon me, Mazzini, the eternally proscribed, had been obliged to quit France, and retire to Geneva.

In fact, at that moment, the republican party seemed completely annihilated in France. It was scarcely a year since the 5th of June, and a few months after the trial of the combatants of the Cloître St. Merri.

Mazzini, that man of conviction, for whom obstacles do not exist, had chosen this moment to risk a fresh attempt.

The patriots had replied that they were ready, but they demanded a leader.

The man thought of was Ramerino, still resplendent from his struggles in Poland. Mazzini did not approve of this choice; his mind, at once active and profound, placed him on his guard against the prestige of great names; but the majority wished for Ramerino, and Mazzini yielded.

Summoned to Geneva, Ramerino accepted the command of the expedition. In the first conference with Mazzini, it was resolved that two republican columns should march upon Piedmont, one by way of Savoy, the other of Geneva.

Ramerino received forty thousand francs to defray the expenses of the expedition, and set out with a secretary of Mazzini's, who was charged with the mission of watching the general.* All this passed in September, 1833; the expedition was to take place in October. But Ramerino dragged on the affair so languidly, that it was not ready before January, 1834.

Mazzini, in spite of all the tergiversations of the Polish general, had remained firm.

* These events, which passed in a point where Garibaldi was not engaged, and which are only repeated here as historical explanations, are borrowed from the works of Angelo Broffero upon Piedmont.

At length, on the 31st of January, Ramerino, brought to the point by Mazzini, joined him at Geneva, with two other generals and an aide-de-camp.

The conference was sad, and disturbed by sombre auguries, Mazzini proposed that they should take military occupation of the village of St. Juliano, in which were assembled the patriot Savoyards, and the French republicans who remained faithful to the movement. It was there the standard of insurrection was to be raised.

Ramerino agreed to the proposition of Mazzini. The two columns were to march on the same day; one was to set out from Carange, the other from Nyon; the latter was to cross the lake to join the former on the route to St. Juliauo. Ramerino kept the command of the first column, the second was given to the Pole, Grabsky.

The Genevese government, fearing to embroil itself on the one side with France, and on the other with Piedmont, viewed the movement with an evil eye. It wished to oppose the departure of the column commanded by Ramerino from Carange; but the people rose, and the government was forced to allow the column to set forward.

It was not the same with that which set out from Nyon. Two barks sailed, one conveying the men, the other the arms. A government steam-boat, sent in pursuit of them, sequestrated the arms and arrested the men.

Ramerino, finding the column that was to join him did not arrive, instead of pursuing his march upon St. Juliano, began to march round the coast of the lake. For a long time they proceeded without knowing whither they were going: no one was acquainted with the designs of the general; the cold was intense, the roads were deplorable.

With the exception of some Poles, the column was composed of Italian volunteers, impatient to fight, but easily fatigued by the length and difficulties of the road.

The Italian flag passed through several poor villages; but no friendly voice saluted it; the patriots encountered none on their route but the curious and the indifferent.

Fatigued with his long labours, Mazzini, who had relinquished the pen for the musket, followed the column; consumed by a burning fever; half dead, he dragged himself along the sharp road, anguish written upon his brow.

He had already several times asked Ramorino what his intentions were, and what route he was following. And every time the general's replies had been unsatisfactory.

They arrived at Carra, and there halted to pass the night. Mazzini and Ramerino were both in the same chamber. Ramorino was near the fire, enveloped in his cloak; Mazzini fixed upon him a dark and suspicious glance. All at once, with his sonorous voice rendered still more vibrating by fever, "It is not by following this road that we can hope to meet the enemy," said he. "We ought to go where we can be put to the test. If victory be impossible, let us at least prove that, like Italians, we know how to die."

"Neither time nor opportunity will ever be wanting to encounter useless risks," replied the General; “and I should consider it a crime to needlessly expose the flower of the Italian youth."

"There is no religion without its martyrs," replied Mazzini; "let us found ours, even if it be by our blood."

Mazzini had scarcely ceased speaking, when the sound of firing was heard. Ramerino sprang upon his feet, Mazzini seized a carbine, thanking God for having at length made them meet the enemy. But it was the last effort of his energy: fever devoured him; his companions, flitting about in the darkness, appeared to him to be phantoms; the earth turned round beneath his feet; he fell senseless.

When he recovered his senses, he was in Switzer

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