Sutherland, was, as I have said more than once in the earlier part of this book, one of my mother's most steadfast and most generous patronesses. The Duke, her son, was an enthusiastic admirer of Garibaldi, and was his host at Stafford House on the occasion of the visit of the Liberator of the Two Sicilies to London-a visit so magnificently begun in the popular enthusiasm which it excited, but which was brought to a sudden and mysterious termination. Lord Ronald Gower shared his brother's admiration for Garibaldi. I

need not here stop to descant upon his lordship's accomplishments as a draftsman, a sculptor, and a writer on art and virtù; but I should like him to tell me, should he chance to read this page, if there be any truth in the following little anecdote which I heard in Italy touching Garibaldi's visit to the Duke.

It is to this effect. When Garibaldi, after a protracted and triumphant progress from the east to the west of the metropolis, arrived at Stafford House, he was exhausted by fatigue; declined to partake of the banquet prepared for him; and said he should like to have some bread and cheese and a bottle of pale ale, and then retire to rest; which he presently did. The next morning, at eight, the servant came to his door to ask if he lacked anything. There was no Garibaldi in the room. The domestic came again at ten; but the quondam Dictator of Naples was still absent. Being diligently sought for, he was found in the great picture gallery; where he was quietly sauntering and admiring the masterpieces of painting on the walls. Breakfast

was ready, he was told. The General expressed his thanks, but said that he had already breakfasted. Breakfasted!" exclaimed in astonishment his interlocutor. "Yes," calmly replied the frugal hero, "I get up at six; I feel hungry, there was a little bread and a little cheese left. I eat him; and there was also a little beer remaining, and I drink him." If this be a "shave," it is a tolerably close one as an illustration of the Spartan simplicity of Giuseppe Garibaldi in all things.

We had another fight with the Austrians some days after Montesuelo, in which the Garibaldini remained masters of the field; and, indeed, it may be said that although Garibaldi had won no striking victories in his campaign, he had at least continued to advance into the enemy's country, and had well planted his foot on the soil of the Southern Tyrol. After the engagement of which I speak, the Italian troops halted at a village where there was a small poverty-stricken tumble-down little church; and there being no hospital nor convent available, the wounded were carried into the church. There was adequate surgical aid at hand, but there was a miserable deficiency of hospital appliances, especially of bandages; and it is a fact which the humane, the merciful, and the compassionate should lay to heart, that the two noble Englishwomen, Mrs. Chambers and Madame Jessie Meriton White Mario, tore up every rag and stitch of their underclothing to make bandages withal, and came out of that church with nothing but their frocks to cover them.

After another successful brush with the enemy,

Garibaldi believed that he would be able to push on as far as Trent and occupy that important town; but, alas!-did not Mr. Kinglake remark, in "Eothen," that, "alas!" was an ejaculation which everybody wrote and nobody uttered?-there appeared at head-quarters an open barouche and pair, in which was seated an Italian staff-officer, in a dark blue uniform and gold bullion epaulettes, who turned out to be an aide-de-camp of King Victor Emmanuel. The Prussians had routed the Austrians at Königgrätz; there was to be peace between the two Powers; and Italy, much to her disgust, was instructed by her French friend-Garibaldi's ce Monsieur-to make peace with the Kaiser. As a consolation, however, the Dominio Veneto was to be given up to her; and thus the Emperor Napoleon was practically to redeem his promise of freeing Italy from the Alps to the Adriatic. Rome only, and the States of the Church, were excepted from the stately kingdom conferred on the whilom Sovereign of Sardinia-the luckiest monarch, I should say, that has lived for centuries. Still, although the glittering prize of Venice, Verona, Padua, Vicenza, and Mantua was dangled before their eyes, the Italians felt sore with the peace which had been concluded without giving them Rome. They were sore at having been worsted by the Austrians in the Quadrilateral; since, although the Tedeschi did not pursue the Italian army, but re-entered Mantua at nightfall, the Italians. had been forced to fall behind the Mincio, and vehemently as they declared Custozza to have been a

drawn battle, there was a consensus of European opinion that Austria had won the day on the 24th June, 1866.

They were sorer at having been signally defeated by the Austrian fleet, commanded by Admiral Tegethoff, at Lissa, in the Adriatic; and although the Italian Commander, Admiral Persano, stated somewhat vaingloriously in his despatch, that the Italians remained. masters of the scene of battle (Noi siamo padroni delle acque di Lissa), it is certain that Tegethoff rammed. and jammed the Italian warships "into a cocked-hat," as the Americans would say, and sunk one huge ironclad right out. As for Garibaldi, he was more than sore; he was enraged; and he made haste to throw up his command, and return to his island home at Caprera. At the conclusion of this-well, let us say, equivocalcampaign, the little band of English special correspondents broke up. Hyndman and the present writer

returned to Milan; Henty left for Ancona, in the harbour of which he witnessed the fearful catastrophe of the foundering of the ironclad Affondatore, a disaster which took place just as the enormous vessel was entering the port.

114

CHAPTER LXI.

THE LIBERATION OF VENICE.

Mr. Frederick Hardman-The First War Correspondent-Peter Finnerty and the Walcheren Expedition-M. Plantulli-At Padua-Marshal Haynau and the Caffe Florian-Shakespeare's Familiarity with Italian CitiesFerrara Haunted by the Ghost of Lucrezia Borgia-Donizetti's Opera—I Rejoin my Wife-An Incident at Mestre-A Reminiscence of NiagaraVenice on the Eve of its Liberation-Good-nature of the Venetians-The Fenice Re-opened-Popular Enthusiasm-Enter the King.

AT Milan we found the late Mr. Frederick Hardman, a well-known travelling correspondent of the Times, who afterwards represented that journal in Paris. Mr. Hardman may be considered as one of the pioneers of that peculiar class of journalists of whom William Howard Russell has been for a long time the acknowledged doyen and chief. Hardman had served the Times during the Carlist and Cristino war in Spain; in which there did good service for another journal the late Mr. Charles Lewis Gruneisen-another pioneer of special war correspondents. He was on the Cristino side; had been captured by the Carlists, and was about to be shot; when he was rescued from his impending fate by the intercession of the late Lord Ranelagh, who had taken service in the cause of Don Carlos de Borbon. There was, as we are all aware, no special war-correspondent at Waterloo; although I have heard it stated that an agent of the house of Rothschild, and an