CHAPTER XIII.

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MY EXILE.

It was in the month of September, 1842, that I found myself beyond the walls of Rome, in the province of Sabina; in a fine country, near Nazzano, in the neighbourhood of Mount Soracte. I had chosen this situation as a commodious one, and sufficiently distant from the capital, to allow me to arrange and settle my affairs, previous to my final departure from Italy.

But how bitter was the thought that I was about to leave my native country! Nevertheless, I saw that it was necessary for my spiritual good I should do so, in order to follow with more advantage the path which had been assigned to me by the will of the Lord. In no part of Italy had I as yet been able to find a secure asylum, where I could hope to be safe from the attacks of the pope, his monks, and his Inquisition. Though I was set free from the prison of the Holy Office, for want of any definite charge being established against me, I was still under its strict surveillance. All my proceedings were watched, all my words noted; and I was committed to the especial care of spies, bishops, and similar agents of the government. I could not therefore be considered as at liberty, although no longer within the walls of a prison.

In the meantime, regardless of these annoyances, I continued to speak without any disguise, about my departure; of my separation from Rome, of my renouncing the Church, and of my voluntary exile. Indeed, before being released from the Holy Office, I had altogether given up my connexion with the Church of Rome; I had abdicated all right and privilege of serving it, and consequently was exonerated from all its obligations. I was desirous to avoid all future imputation as to retaining any of its honours, its dignities, or its gifts; and therefore I renounced them altogether. I knew that according to the faith of the Church, it might be imagined I must retain the effect of the unction imparted to the priesthood, by the imposition of hands. I revolved in my mind how I could best free myself from this as well; and I saw no better method than by altogether renouncing the doctrine, and publicly protesting against it.

Before leaving this part of the country, I judged it expedient to apply to Rome for my passport; not indeed so much out of absolute necessity, as from motives of convenience. My letter was addressed to one of the officials of the Inquisition, who called himself my friend. I received in reply an intimation that the cardinals were not aware of the necessity of my request; which was as much as to say, that being clear from all imputation, and entirely set at liberty, I was unquestionably free to go wherever I pleased. Some of the cardinals, indeed, suggested that I had better return to Rome, in order to make my peace with the Holy See. I received other letters, at the same time, full of dangerous flattery and enticing offers,—the more dangerous as they were made by my dearest friends, to whom it is always extremely difficult to reply in the negative.

"Well," I exclaimed to myself, "I must be firm in my resolution; the more I am pressed and solicited to remain, the more speedily shall my departure take place. As long as I am met with reproaches and annoyances, I have nothing to fear; but when the opposite measure of kindness and entreaty is adopted, I am too weak to resist; and I cannot look for a miracle in my favour, if I needlessly expose myself to danger. Onward, then, and let me depart, in the name of God." But whither? In what part of the world should I seek an asylum? At Geneva? or at Malta? I at length determined for the Ionian Islands. Previous to my departure, I called upon all my friends in the neighbourhood, and I wrote farewell letters to others who were beyond my reach. I did not neglect to visit my relations; and, having provided myself with a servant, I set off for Ancona, stopping on the road in those towns where I chanced to find any of my acquaintance.

The Governor of Ancona, Monsignor Orfei, (now Bishop of Cesena), was an old friend of mine; consequently I did not hide from him the reason of my leaving Italy, or the place I had chosen for my retreat, which I had frequent occasion to discuss with him during the fortnight I remained in the place. I mention all this as a proof that I neither fled from my country, nor sought in any way to conceal myself; and that my going into exile was a matter of free choice, dictated by conscientious motives, and nothing else.

I left Ancona on the 4th of October, and two days afterwards reached Corfu. I was fortunate enough to get included in the passport of a family with which I travelled, without any separate mention being made of my name; this was a necessary precaution, to ensure me from molestation on the road. But at Corfu I was on free ground, protected by the laws, and under colours that owe no obedience to the pope.

Here, then, I blessed the Lord, and offered up my thanksgiving to Him, for having thus far preserved me from the jaws of the lion, and from the hands of those who sought to ensnare my soul. For the first time in my life I breathed the fresh air of true liberty—of that precious liberty of spirit which is granted to the children of God. I sought for a minister of the holy Evangelists; and soon became acquainted with the Reverend Isaac Lowndes, an independent minister, and Secretary to the Bible Society. I ran to him as a famished man would to obtain bread; I opened my whole mind to him; I chose him for my spiritual director; and he has always proved himself to be one of my best and most esteemed friends.

My stay at Corfu was marked by many events. The first was a persecution emanating from Rome, clumsily enough conducted by two emissaries of the Inquisition—the papal consul, and the curate of the Romish Church. The first of these had the boldness to present himself before the Lord High Commissioner of her Britannic Majesty, with a despatch from Cardinal Lambruschini, demanding my expulsion, as having been guilty of enormous crimes. Being asked, however, by the consul, to state the nature of one, at least, of these pretended crimes, he could not find in his pocket-dictionary any term suitable for his purpose. I was subsequently assured that the secretary of the Lord High Commissioner reproved him for his assurance. The second of these worthies contented himself with speaking all manner of evil of me, whom he hardly knew by sight. It appears that both of them had a miserable pittance allowed them, for which they amused themselves in inventing and promulgating their abominable falsehoods. I know that the director-general of the police, Captain Lawrence, twice summoned before him one of these detractors, a Neapolitan tailor, and severely reprimanded him; and I also know that this tailor confessed he had been paid for his slanders.

Several of the Maltese, who constitute the most vile and wretched part of the population of Corfu, had, at one time, taken it into their heads to follow me in the streets, with insulting and threatening words; and when some of my friends, who were more disgusted with it than I was myself, inquired as to the reason of their doing so, they replied that the curate had desired them. I might have called the curate to account for this, had I been vindictively disposed; but the case was otherwise.

I must now say a few words upon a subject which perhaps may by some be deemed foreign to "my dealings with Rome;" but still it is in some degree connected with the principal facts of my history. And at any rate, it will be a page devoted to the memory of two dear friends, whose loss I have not yet ceased to lament,—to Attilio and Emilio Bandiera, universally honoured and deplored by all good men, for the sacrifice they made for their country.

These noble, generous, pure, and high-minded youths, were compelled, in consequence of being betrayed, to resign their commissions in the Italian-Austrian navy. They repaired to Corfu, at separate times; and, as I was already on friendly terms with both of them, they requested me to allow them to remain in my house, and partake of my table. For four months I had the pleasure of the society of Emilio, the youngest of the brothers; and for two months, that of Attilio. It is not my intention in this place to relate their history, since it is already well known, how at the head of a few Italians, they embarked from Corfu, and landed on the shores of Calabria, where, in a skirmish with the troops of the Bourbon king, they were taken prisoners; and, under I know not what barbarous laws, were, with seven others, put to death; their only crime being a devoted love for their country.

Who among the virtuous and the brave has not mourned their loss? And who among them would not have considered himself honoured in their friendship? None valued it more than myself, who was regarded by them as a brother; to whom they confided their parting injunctions, and who was a minister of the Church of which they had become members; the Italian Church, which I opened in Corfu, in March, 1844, with Emilio Bandiera at my side.

I have hitherto been silent before the public respecting these young men, whilst others have spoken of them, and written the history of their fate. But my silence was solely occasioned by knowing that the Jesuits and their followers, availing themselves of the well-known fact of our intimacy, had spread abroad the report that I was only interested in the success of religious reform so far as it might lead to a political one; that for religion itself I had no respect whatever, and only assumed the appearance of it to ingratiate myself with the English, whose money and protection I coveted; in proof of all this they brought forward my friendship and intimacy with the brothers Bandiera.

And here observe how far malice will lead men astray. The Dublin Review, in July, 1850, stigmatises me to the religious world, as a mere political adventurer, while to the political world it represents me as a religious enthusiast, changeable, inconsiderate, inexperienced, and an immoral person, and a hypocrite to boot.

As to the Jesuits themselves I care little about them or their opinions, except as they influence the minds of other people. Certain it is that, in consequence of their calumnious insinuations, the religious cause which I advocate, in the face of my country and before the whole world, has in some degree been impeded.

Before I was known, and had gained the confidence of my good brethren in the faith, it was no doubt an unfavourable circumstance in their eyes, that I was so closely associated with persons who appeared to have no other object in view than political alterations. I confess I had not, at that time, sufficient Christian fortitude to meet these insidious attacks; and, therefore, felt it prudent to be silent with respect to my beloved friends, the Bandiera, until I should have established my religious reputation on a firm basis, and have acquired the confidence of the public with respect to my Mission. Now, however, God be praised, I am so far advanced in the general estimation of the Christian world, that I may speak out, and reply, as is incumbent on me, to the calumnies with which I have been assailed.

If I was so united, so closely united with the brothers Bandiera, it was because religious reform was the most noble, the most sublime idea in their minds; and because they felt the necessity of destroying the abhorred Papacy, and restoring to their beloved country the ancient pure Christianity of our fathers. On this head their language and their ideas, as well as their faith, were similar to my own. The only difference between us was, that they had not themselves as yet put their hands to the work, beyond confiding in Him who knows how to bring it about by ways of His own.

A reform in the Church is not to be effected by force of arms, nor by clamour and sarcasms. Temperate argument, and mild persuasion, and virtuous example, are the proper means, and such as the Reformers of the sixteenth century employed. The arguments, moreover, require to be based upon the written Word, which among all religious sects is received as the touchstone of truth. Now, my young friends had not the boldness to consider themselves sufficiently well instructed in the Holy Word to enter into a theological discussion with the people, or a controversy with the priests of Rome. They were desirous of reform, and in the furtherance of it they were content that I should lead the way, declaring themselves my followers. They had the hope that, in various parts of Italy, conscientious priests might be found capable of being reformed themselves, and afterwards of conducing to the reformation of others. They had a great desire to see the Bible circulated; we sent several copies of the Diodati Edition, to friends at Venice, Trieste, Ancona, and other places, and they themselves always carried about with them one which I had formerly given them; we had frequent conversations together respecting the meaning of different passages; and Attilio, especially, carefully wrote out any particular view which might arise in our minds on our perusal of them.

Emilio Bandiera, speaking to an Italian, who professed that, for his own part, he cared nothing about religion, thus expressed himself in my hearing:—

"It is every man's duty to care about religion. He who makes a boast that he has none at all is to be held in abhorrence. I would never choose such a one as my friend—much less would I have a wife of such a character, or children, or even servants. Do you imagine that any society could possibly hold together, in the proper discharge of its mutual duties, without religion? What would a political reform avail you without it?"

On another occasion, when one of his countrymen asserted that, good or bad, he would never change his religion, Emilio observed:—

"Your words are devoid of sense. If the religion you profess be, in your estimation, good—keep it; watch over it, and defend it; if, on the other hand, it be not so good as you first thought, by all means change it forthwith; that is to say, get rid of your present false notions, and take up those better opinions which hitherto you have not had. It was so that our ancestors did, whether Gentiles or Jews; as soon as they perceived that their religion was no longer good, in obedience to the dictates of their conscience they adopted Christianity, which appeared to them the only true one."

Both the brothers had a high regard for truth, in its pure and simple form. I will here quote a passage from the note-book of Attilio:—"The most important truth must, of necessity, be religious truth: it is present with us at all periods of our life, and is connected with all our necessities. The influence of religion is universal, and I believe that, whoever has the folly to endeavour to escape it, is nevertheless pursued by it, in spite of himself. Every individual in society who is irreligious, has to endure a greater struggle than he is aware of, and the more obstinate he tries to be, the more he has to endure."

O blessed spirits! without doubt you were visited with heavenly consolation, at the extreme moment of your separation from this miserable life. You believed in the words of our glorious Redeemer; you confessed yourselves sinners before Him, since every living soul is such in His sight. But in the eyes of men ye were justified. It was neither interest nor ambition that led you into the midst of danger, but a disinterested love for your country and your fellow-men. He who judges of the merit of an enterprise by its success, may say that your prudence was at fault in undertaking it; but I am of a different opinion. I assert that you were in political matters what John Huss and Jerome of Prague were in those of religion, the precursors and the first martyrs. May the Lord bestow His blessing on your labours, by blessing also the labours of those who may follow in your steps!

The two brothers left Corfu with twenty followers. Above a hundred Italians remained in the Ionian Islands, all equally acquainted with what was going on, and in which all were interested. No opposition was made to their project of forming armed bands upon the mountains which traverse Italy, the chain of the Appenines beginning in Calabria, in order to strengthen the revolution which had become necessary for the country. The two Bandiera, Morro, Ricciotti, and Nardi, with a few others, were the first who offered themselves for the enterprise; and accordingly they set out to join the forces that were already on the mountains, expecting their arrival. A single night would have been sufficient to take them there, as the mountains extended to the sea-shore. But, unfortunately, three days were lost among the inhabited parts, and this delay was fatal to them.

Thus it was that they fell into the hands of the enemy; not by private treachery, as has been falsely and malignantly represented. What treachery could there be where there was no secrecy? Their intentions and their expedition were known from the first, to everybody, and twice they had an encounter with the King's troops. Yet, would it be believed that the desire to calumniate and injure me has pushed the writer of the article I have already alluded to, in the Dublin Review, so far as to make him dare to assert that I, their friend, their counsellor, their bosom-refuge in their hour of trouble—I it was, who tempted these valorous brothers into the battle field, and procured their capture and their death, in order that I might possess myself of their effects!

Had I been capable of harbouring the thought of such an enormous crime towards any human being whatever, towards them at any rate, I could have no motive for doing so; since they arrived at Corfu in so destitute a condition, that they were actually obliged to part with the few articles of dress they could spare, in order to supply themselves with the requisites for their expedition; this they stated in a letter to Mazzini, shortly before they left Corfu, which letter he published in his memoirs of them.

When my friends set out for Calabria, I also took my departure from Corfu to settle at Zante. It was understood between us that I should undertake in that place, where I could be free from interruption, a work connected with the religious reform of Italy, and it was settled that I should there receive communications and instructions from them, as to my future proceedings.

My exile was not similar to that of other emigrants who were left in peace by all parties. I had never given cause of offence to my government in political matters, but I had done so with respect to its religion. I had not designated the monarch as a knave, but I had stigmatized the Pope as an impostor: it would have been a small matter for me to unmask the character of a man who has always been a slave to ambition and self-interest; I rather chose the task of disclosing to the world the presumptuous iniquity of one who calls himself holy and infallible as God Himself; the Spiritual Father of all men; the Lord over all believers; placed above all; with the power to save and to destroy; to open heaven, and to close the gates of hell. Such a centre of blasphemy, such an exalted idol, I resolved to combat and overthrow; I felt an enmity towards this enemy of God, this falsifier of holy truth, this opposer of every moral and civil improvement: I determined to wage such an incessant warfare against him that he should finally be obliged to succumb, and while life remains to me I will continue so to do. Let the Jesuits, the Inquisition, the priests, and all their spies combine their efforts against me. I heed them not, neither do I fear them, however numerous they may be. The power of hell has no influence over those who are commissioned to preach the kingdom of heaven. Against them, as it is written, "the gates of hell shall not prevail."


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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