The Cornetti-Craving Courier
August 28th, 1862
Messina, Sicily
General Giuseppe Garibaldi awoke shortly before dawn, partially to be active before the volunteers fighting along side him, but for the most part he simply enjoyed watching the sunrise. As the aging adventurer walked through the makeshift encampment outside of town, a few early-to-rise men recognized him. Their enthusiastic praise and encouragement sometimes reassured him in moments of uncertainty, and always reminded him of why he risked his life so often.
Throughout his life, Garibaldi had fought for the common man. He was exiled from Piedmont for his youthful republican leanings, seeking social reforms and universal suffrage. After fleeing to South America, he fought in Brazil for impoverished farmers, and to defend the fledgling nation of Uruguay from Argentine aggression. Finally, he embarked on his famous expedition to Sicily two years before to liberate the people of Southern Italy from the horrid oppression they had experienced at the hands of the Bourbons. Seeing these men, his brothers, giving up everything important to them to seek the capture of Rome and the unification of their nation, reaffirmed his willingness to sacrifice his own life for those around him.
General Garibaldi spotted a hardened veteran wearing a tattered red smock, cooking some bubbling corn gruel. He bowed his head, and the man shouted out, “Roma o morte!” Garibaldi, with a wide smile, inspecting eyes, and a corrective tone, replied, “Viva l‘Italia!” before walking on. The sun was just now peeking over the eastern horizon, near Messina itself. Some of the men traveling with him had been able to find lodging within Messina. Garibaldi had been invited into many fine homes but insisted on sleeping with the majority of his men, shoddily encamped on the western edge of town.
As Garibaldi watched the sun lift over the sea, far in the distance he spotted a royal gunboat. Garibaldi had been trying to convince the commander of the sizeable Messina garrison for nearly a month to allow his army of patriots to cross over to the mainland. The naval officer in command at Messina was no more moveable, and the military forces in the area had shown a cold restraint towards the presence of Garibaldi’s men.
This development had taken the general by surprise. Garibaldi had won the favor of Victor Emmanuel after his campaign against the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies two years before. The King had sent a few letters in Garibaldi’s direction, and it was not unheard of for messages to be relayed between them. When Garibaldi had addressed the question of Rome, Victor Emmanuel had shown little reservation regarding another freelance expedition, and (if at all possible from the inarticulate monarch) had subtly encouraged Garibaldi to go out on a second campaign, this time against Rome. The fact that the military was not cooperating was not only a stumbling block, but baffled Garibaldi, a man with a profound ignorance and distaste for political maneuvering.
There would be no campaign against Rome, as long as the royal gunboats in the strait below his eyes blocked the passage of his men. Garibaldi now felt that his endeavor was pointless, and reports of Mazzini leading some addlebrained revolt on the other side of Sicily troubled the already tenuous situation. The royal garrison had been noticeably more hostile over the past week and there had been one or two incidents between the two armed groups that had luckily been averted before they became violent.
The sun was now fully above the horizon and Garibaldi returned to his tent for a cappuccino and discussion with his inner circle. His new friend Alessandro, a young and feisty Sicilian from near Catania, was sitting at the shabby wooden table outside Garibaldi’s tent. Alessandro had a colorful past and was able to keep Garibaldi, a man who had seen a lot himself, amused with stories about the farm village he grew up in. Alessandro had considered the priesthood as a teenager and had as solid an education as a Sicilian peasant could reasonably have. He reminded Garibaldi of the young idealist within his aging frame.
Alessandro’s stories revolved around his chronic run-ins with Don Renato, the village squire. Fortunately for Alessandro, Don Renato was as dumb as an ox and as proud as a peacock. Alessandro was always able to use his head to outwit or flatter the slow man-about-town and get out of trouble. On the other hand, Don Renato owned most of the land surrounding the village, and he made life very hard on Alessandro and the farmers of the village.
After Alessandro’s family failed to produce enough grain to pay Don Renato’s rent during a bad season, Alessandro left out of desperation and resorted to the life of a roadside thief. When Alessandro heard of Garibaldi’s return to the island, he was able to meet up with the band and gained a reputation as a man with a quick temper and hard fists. Before long, Alessandro was telling his stories at Garibaldi’s campfire and eating far better food than he was accustomed to as a brigand.
When Alessandro saw Garibaldi, he had his feet propped up on the table, which was endowed with a basket full of biscuits of some sort. With a mouth full of food, Alessandro spoke to Garibaldi. “Giusi, get your ass over here and pick up some cornetti before I eat the whole damn basket. I’m only telling you this because if you’re dead of hunger I won’t be able to keep stealing your food! Some baker from town brought these here for you right after you left on your walk and they won’t stay warm for long. If you won’t eat them I sure as hell won’t let them go to waste!” Garibaldi walked over to the kettle and began frothing some milk. “Oh, and I assume these cornetti are gifts, and not something you and Luca were able to ‘relieve’ from some poor baker with bad hearing. I bet you would have snatched a basket of brioches too, if you hadn’t farted two feet away!” Alessandro feigned insult before chortling and making a sweeping hand gesture of some sort towards Garibaldi.
The sound of horses at full gallop was barely audible, but rare considering the inactive situation of Garibaldi’s band and the fairly early hour. “Sandro, have you seen Pietro anywhere? I asked him to go see Commander Tomassini about lifting the curfew but I haven’t talked to him since yesterday morning?” A rider, slowing his mount, approached Garibaldi’s tent, with what appeared to be an escort of dragoons behind him. The noise attracted the focus of the surrounding ‘soldiers’ and they gathered around to see what was going on.
The hills surrounding Messina prevented all of Garibaldi’s men from camping together, which was probably for the best. There were a number of encampments spread out in the small valleys to the west of the port city. Garibaldi realized the effect that his presence had on the men fighting alongside him and moved often from encampment to encampment throughout the ‘campaign’. The fact that this apparent emissary had been able to find him directly, without a careful search of the camp, implied a very organized and serious man, perhaps possessing informants within his army.
The man, with an air of confidence (or perhaps arrogance), took off his fashionable hat and held it to the side of his fashionable coat. A number of dragoons dismounted and stood beside the man, looking suspiciously at Garibaldi’s men. After a moment, the General sighed with an air of both disappointment and disgust. The mysterious rider was Urbano Rattazzi, who was Cavour’s chief lieutenant and lackey. Garibaldi had acquired a profound contempt for politicians, which was partly why he had served as dictator of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies after his campaign in 1860 rather than surrendering to popular rule. Cavour was a master statesman and had earned Garibaldi’s ire but was smooth enough to deal with if it was really necessary. Rattazzi on the other hand- was really the true form of the corrupt politician, and had no honor of any sort. The sight of this man in his camp revealed that his idealistic people’s crusade was over, and it would not end with honor, but a vile bargain.
Garibaldi curtly said, “Good morning, your Excellency. How may the Crown’s loyal servant be of assistance to you and your master?” Rattazzi replied, “General –or should I say Citizen- Garibaldi, as you have no official status within the Royal Italian Army, I am here on the business of the Prime Minister.” One or two isolated militiamen in the crowd jeered or booed. “As I have come to discuss sensitive information of vital importance to the Crown, I thank you for inviting me into your quarters.” Rattazzi proceeded to strut into Garibaldi’s tent. Garibaldi, after pausing for a suitable length of time, followed Rattazzi into his relatively spacious tent. Alessandro looked at Garibaldi, with pleading eyes as if to help, but the General waved him away with a nod.
Just after Garibaldi entered through the flap, Rattazzi began. “My escorts will guard the tent to ensure that we will not be interrupted.” Garibaldi interjected, “My men have had a tenuous relationship with the local garrison and I don’t believe that is a good idea. Perhaps you-“Rattazzi nearly shouted, “Perhaps you should have consulted the Government before you began preparing a march on Rome! I don’t really care what you think is a good idea, because your last good idea has opened the way for an insurrection across this island! I was sent here by His Excellency the Prime Minister for one reason and one reason only- to give you an ultimatum. You are a hero of our nation and have sacrificed greatly for your countrymen, but you have become a grave threat to the progress of our Kingdom. Your unauthorized adventures helped in the past when we were seen as a joke, a lost cause, but it will not work again. Even our closest allies do not believe us when we disavow your escapade and you threaten everything our country has been fighting to achieve.”
Garibaldi spoke, “You forced your way into my camp, invited yourself into my tent, and you said you came only to bring an ultimatum. Either give it to me or get out.” Garibaldi turned his back to Rattazzi. “As you wish! The King and the Prime Minister do not take Mazzini lightly and your uncertain position troubles His Majesty. Here is the ultimatum- you are to accept a commission as a General in the Royal Army and lead your men against the republican traitors that have sprung out all over Sicily, you will remain in the Army until you are unable to serve, and you will be made the greatest hero of our people.” Garibaldi spoke with curiosity,”Or?” “Or, you will be labeled as a traitor. Your current efforts will be connected with the rebel Mazzini, your men will be forced to surrender their arms and you will be put on trial for treason.” Garibaldi stared blankly at the corner of the tent.
Rattazzi continued, “You and I have never gotten along and I know how you feel about me. You are a thorn in the side of the Government’s efforts to make our country strong and unified. Despite your personal feelings, don’t make a decision that will cost the lives of thousands and only prolong the suffering of our people. The King favors you and requests that you serve him as a staff officer at the highest level. General, on your loyalty to your sovereign, on the lives of your men, on your honor- I pray that you make the right decision.”
Garibaldi thought silently for a few moments, and then looked at Rattazzi. “I don’t believe I have a choice.” A tear began to form in the old General’s left eye. “Throughout my adult life, since I returned to my native land, I have sought only to serve my King and my people. I never believed that my actions would cause harm to my country, but as I saw the republicans break out in violence after my men created an opening for them, I fear I have made a terrible decision. As far as I’m concerned you and your master are a pox on all Italy, but I will serve my sovereign. I will bow to your wishes on the condition that my deputy, Alessandro, may serve as my aide-de-camp and be commissioned as an officer.” Rattazzi made a lemony face and said, “That is quite a challenge, considering the, uh, caliber of your men, but exceptions can be made. For what it’s worth, I-“
Garibaldi snapped, “You- you will get the hell out of my tent and my camp now! I may have agreed to you devil’s deal but my honor has been insulted and your presence here is no longer necessary. Send a messenger when things are prepared and I will comply.” “Good, good, he will be here this afternoon. Good day, Citizen- or should I say General- Garibaldi! Ha!” Rattazzi took the last cornetti and stormed out. As Rattazzi ate the pastry outside the tent, he thought of how much he enjoyed his job.
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