Before long—indeed very soon—Garibaldi or Mazzini (or both together) will organize an expedition to the Kingdom of Naples. If by chance this venture is successful, Piedmont will have to step in so as not to leave those regions in the hands of mad republicans, and to do so it will have to march down the peninsula through the Papal States. To achieve this end, we must therefore instill in our sovereign feelings of suspicion and grievance toward the pope so that he pays little heed to the advice of Napoleon III. As you will have realized, Avvocato Simonini, policies are often decided by us humble servants of the state rather than by those who, in the eyes of the people, govern.»
That report was my first truly serious job, where I wasn’t merely scribbling out a will for the benefit of nobody special, but had to construct a document of political complexity, through which I may have contributed to the policies of the Kingdom of Piedmont. I remember feeling very proud of it.
In the meantime, the momentous year of 1860 had arrived—momentous for the country, though not yet for me. I followed events from a distance, listening to idle café gossip. Sensing that I ought to become more closely involved in political matters, I realized the most attractive news to fabricate would be what these idle minds were expecting, rather than what the newspapers reported as solid fact.
Thus I came to hear that the inhabitants of the Grand Duchy of Tuscany, the Duchy of Modena and the Duchy of Parma had deposed their rulers, that the so-called papal legations of Emilia and Romagna had broken away from papal control and that they all wanted to be annexed to the Kingdom of Piedmont. In April 1860, insurrections broke out in Palermo; Mazzini wrote to the heads of the revolt that Garibaldi would be coming to their aid; and it was rumored that Garibaldi was looking for men, money and arms for his expedition and that the Bourbon navy was already crossing the waters of Sicily to prevent an enemy expedition.
«Did you know Cavour is using one of his most trusted men, La Farina, to keep Garibaldi under control?»
«What do you mean? The minister has approved a subscription for the purchase of twelve thousand rifles for Garibaldi’s men.»
«In any case, the distribution was stopped, and by whom? By the Royal Carabineers!»
«But please, oh please! Cavour, far from stopping it, helped with the distribution.»
«Quite so! Except that they’re not the fine Enfield rifles Garibaldi was expecting, but bits of old scrap metal. Our hero will be lucky if they’re any use even for shooting skylarks!»
«I’ve been told by someone at the royal palace, mentioning no names, that La Farina has given Garibaldi eight thousand lire and a thousand rifles.»
«Yes, but there should have been three thousand, and two thousand have been kept back by the governor of Genoa.»
«Why Genoa?»
«Because you don’t expect Garibaldi to go to Sicily on the back of a mule. He’s signed a contract for the purchase of two ships, which should be sailing from Genoa or thereabouts. And you know who’s guaranteed the debt? The Masons, or to be more precise, a lodge in Genoa.»
«What lodge are you talking about? Freemasonry is an invention of the Jesuits!»
«You’d best keep quiet—you’re a Mason and everyone knows it!»
«We’ll pass over that one…Anyway, I happen to know from a reliable source that those present at the signing of the contract,» and here his voice fell to a whisper, «were Avvocato Riccardi and General Negri di Saint Front.»
«And who the hell are they?»
«You don’t know?» His voice dropped lower still. «They are the heads of the Department of Secret Affairs, or rather, the State Department for Political Surveillance, which is the information service for the head of the government. They are powerful—more important than the prime minister himself. That’s who they are, far from being Masons!»
«Really? Of course, it’s quite possible to be a member of the secret service as well as a Freemason—indeed it helps.»
«What lodge are you talking about? Freemasonry is an invention of the Jesuits!» «You’d best keep quiet—you’re a Mason and everyone knows it!»
On the 5th of May it became public knowledge that Garibaldi and a thousand volunteers had left by sea on their way to Sicily. No more than ten of them were from Piedmont, and they included foreigners and a large number of lawyers, doctors, pharmacists, engineers and landowners. Few of them were ordinary folk.
On the 11th of May, Garibaldi’s ships landed at Marsala. And on whose side was the Bourbon navy? It was apparently intimidated by two British ships moored in the port, officially there to protect the interests of their fellow countrymen who had a flourishing trade in fine Marsala wine. Or were the English helping Garibaldi?
In short, within a few days Garibaldi’s Thousand (as they were now known) had routed the Bourbons at Calatafimi and grown in number, thanks to the arrival of local volunteers. Garibaldi proclaimed himself dictator of Sicily in the name of Vittorio Emanuele II, and by the end of the month Palermo had been captured.
And France? What did France have to say? France seemed to be watching cautiously, but one Frenchman, the great novelist Alexandre Dumas, at that time more famous than Garibaldi, rushed to join the liberators in his private yacht, the Emma, carrying with him money and arms.
In Naples, Francesco II, the unfortunate king of the Two Sicilies, already fearful that Garibaldi’s men had won in various places because his generals had betrayed him, hastened to grant amnesty to political prisoners and to reintroduce the constitution of 1848 that had been repealed, but it was too late and riots broke out even in his capital.
It was during the first days of June that I received a note from Cavalier Bianco, telling me to wait that same day at midnight for a carriage that would pick me up at my office. An unusual appointment, but I sensed an interesting opportunity, and at midnight, sweating in the stifling heat that was tormenting the city at the time, I waited in front of my office. Soon a closed carriage arrived with curtains drawn, and inside was a man I did not know. He drove me somewhere not far, it seemed, from the center—indeed I had the impression the carriage may have passed two or three times along the same streets.
It stopped in the dilapidated courtyard of an old tenement block, which was all a jumble of loose balustrades. Here I was shown through a small doorway and down a long corridor, at the end of which another small door led to the entrance hall of a building of very different character. We had reached the foot of a wide staircase but did not go up it and instead took a small flight of steps at the far end of the hallway. It brought us to a room with walls lined in damask, a large portrait of the king on the far wall, and a table covered with green baize around which four people sat, one of whom was Cavalier Bianco, who introduced me to the others. No one shook hands, limiting themselves to a nod.
«Please be seated, Avvocato Simonini. The gentleman to your right is General Negri di Saint Front, to your left here is Avvocato Riccardi, and before you Professor Boggio, parliamentary deputy for Valenza Po.»
From the rumors I’d heard in the bars, I realized the first two characters were in charge of the State Department for Political Surveillance and who (vox populi) had helped Garibaldi’s men to buy their two famous ships. As for the third, I recognized his name: Boggio was a journalist, a professor of law already by the age of thirty, a parliamentary deputy and one of Cavour’s closest advisers. He had a ruddy face with a fine pair of whiskers, a monocle as large as the base of a glass and the air of the most inoffensive man in the world. But the deference shown to him by the other three was clear evidence of his power in the government.
Negri di Saint Front was the first to speak: «My dear Avvocato Simonini, being well aware of your ability to gather information, as well as your prudence and discretion in handling it, we would like to send you on a mission of great delicacy to the territories recently conquered by General Garibaldi. You needn’t worry—we don’t propose asking you to march the Redshirts into battle. It’s a question of obtaining information. So that you’re aware exactly what information the government is interested in obtaining, we are obliged to entrust you with what I have no hesitation in describing as state secrets. You will therefore understand the need for great caution from this evening onward, until the end of your mission and beyond. This is also—how shall I say—to ensure your own personal safety, about which, naturally, we are most concerned.»
He could hardly have been more diplomatic. Saint Front was most concerned about my health and for this reason was warning me that if I started telling others what I was about to hear, I’d be putting my health in serious jeopardy. But this
