by Lucy Riall
Everything in these orders was intended for wider dissemination (and, indeed, they were published as far away as New York's illustrated Harper's Weekly).66 Garibaldi's troops were already on board the ships bound for Sicily and committed, for better for worse, to the expedition. It was the young men at home reading about the Thousand in the newspapers that Garibaldi sought to reach, and to encourage to join his volunteers in Sicily. For these readers, the expedition was constructed in heroic terms, mixing religious and military metaphors. The expedition was a matter of individual conscience, a decisive moment to choose bravery and express devotion to a greater cause. Moreover, the expedition's attention to the world outside Sicily did not stop on arrival at Marsala. Indeed, as they sailed into the port, Nino Bixio – perhaps knowing they would have to cut the telegraph wire at Marsala – tried to throw dispatches wrapped in bread to a passing English sailing boat and, when he failed, shouted at them to give out the news that Garibaldi had landed at Marsala.67
Immediately after Calatafimi, Garibaldi wrote two other letters, to Bertani and to Rosolino Pilo, which were published in Il Diritto. Both began with the same simple but powerful words, ‘Yesterday we fought and won’, and both emphasised the demoralisation of the enemy, the enthusiasm of the population and the pressing need for volunteers.68 From Palermo, Garibaldi sent other letters for publication which asked for arms and ammunition,69 and a series of his letters addressed to British public figures and other groups was published: these thanked the British for their support and asked ‘quick’ for ‘arms, ships, guns and material’.70 His first proclamations to the Sicilians and Neapolitans reached the New York Times on 30 May, and his address to ‘Sicilian women’, encouraging them to send their sons and lovers, was also intended for a wider audience of women; it was made as Garibaldi prepared to relaunch the expedition by crossing the straits to Calabria, and it was published in L'Unità Italiana on 13 August.71
The published letters of Garibaldi aimed at maximum publicity, and at gaining material and moral support for the expedition. The letters constructed the expedition to Sicily as a narrative of selfless courage and military daring, where the odds against the expedition – a thousand men against a royal army – added to the miraculous and heroic quality of the final outcome. They were accompanied by a propaganda effort in northern Italy which continued throughout the summer: by speeches, poems and other celebrations. A Sicilian professor, Giacomo Oddo, made a speech in early July to the Institute of Popular Education in Milan which was subsequently published as a pamphlet. In it, he spoke of the joy of being Italian (‘allow me to become inebriated on the single idea of being born Italian, and I say to you, oh gentlemen, rejoice, because your fatherland is Italy, and however great were the misfortunes of this unhappy nation, so were its glories, and they are and will always be infinite’) and of the greatness of Garibaldi (‘the shining star of Italy … the man of Providence, the angel of our Italy’). The real purpose of this florid speech was to raise arms and money.72 The novelist and political activist Francesco Domenico Guerrazzi joined the effort, penning a speech to celebrate the volunteers on the second expedition to Garibaldi and publishing an article in L'Unità Italiana and Il Precursore in which he praised Garibaldi (‘Garibaldi is the people, who go forward sword in hand’) and criticised Cavour.73 Bertani was active in this area too; he helped to circulate a poem, ‘The guns’, which called for volunteers and arms, and in August he organised an elaborate commemoration in Milan – ‘Funerals for the martyrs of Milazzo’ – which was, above all, a publicity drive and fund-raising activity.74
Perhaps most of all, the campaign relied on newspapers to publicise its activity.75 Around a hundred of the volunteers with the Thousand were writers and/or painters, some of whom (Nievo, dell'Ongaro) had already published poems about their experiences in 1859.76 A deliberate choice seems to have been made to use their personal accounts, particularly their letters and diaries, to give immediacy and intimacy to the political events being described. In this way, the appeal of first-hand experience was tied to the more abstract, and political, ideal of Italy. That this epistolary formula was perceived as attractive to the reader is indicated by its frequent use in the months that followed, and by many participants and by journalists in 1860 (often the line dividing these two groups was not clear, as many of the journalists were huge Garibaldi enthusiasts). Above all, these letters and diaries stressed the emotional intensity of the events their writers were living through.
A fine example of the use of the epistolary formula to encourage personal identification with Garibaldi's expedition is found in L'Unità Italiana of 12 May. The paper published a letter from one volunteer to his mother, in which he asked forgiveness for abandoning her ‘to go and help heroic Sicily, but I hope you have forgiven me and will also be a mother to Italy’. He then explicitly identified the love of his own mother with the love of, and need to defend, the Italian family: ‘how close it is to my heart … dear mother … to think you will bless my departure, it gives me greater courage to go and defend other unhappy mothers deprived of their sons, wives deprived of their husbands, and children orphaned by fathers in exile, imprisoned or extinguished by tyranny, because they felt they were Italian’.77 On 11 May, Il Movimento published a similarly intimate letter from another volunteer, but this time an ‘[o]ld soldier of the fatherland’. He also made a definite link between the personal and the political. He had, he told his readers, seen many ‘marvellous events’ in his career:
but the sensations I feel today have something new, so sweetly inexplicable that I have no idea how to define it in words. Alone, in the middle of the wide sea, led by the brave and among the brave, with a great principle as our guide, a glorious flag to defend, we feel ourselves to be great men … My sentiments, my impressions I hear repeated around me in all the dialects of Italy. Old conspirators with penetrating eyes and hollow faces mix with the blond and beautiful youngsters sent to us by strong Lombard mothers.78
The expedition here is represented as something dramatically important, perhaps the culmination or realisation of Italy's Risorgimento. To belong to the Thousand is seen as a moment of personal fulfilment, and of being part of a microcosm of heroic and beautiful italianità (‘Alone, in the middle of the wide sea, led by the brave and among the brave … we feel ourselves to be great men’).
That this glorification of the Thousand was part of a deliberate strategy is further suggested by attempts to do the same for subsequent expeditions to Sicily led by Medici and Cosenz. Long letters from two volunteers with Medici, published in L'Unità Italiana and the Florentine paper, La Nazione, described their experiences on board and on arrival, along with intimate details of the various personalities: Medici who was seasick; the Englishman Peard, ‘a handsome man with long grey hair and beard … he adores Garibaldi’; and the welcome given to them by Garibaldi and their ‘brothers’ in Palermo.79 A volunteer on the Cosenz expedition, which left Genoa in early July, remarked on the ‘solemn silence’ of the departure, and the unity and national inclusiveness of the occasion: ‘Here and there a sister, a mother, a wife, a lover, tied in close embrace with their dear ones, the tears flowing at such a love scene. All the dialects of Italy could be heard, almost like a prelude to the unity which the nation has longed for through so many years.’ The journey itself was ‘felicissimo, tranquillissimo’, and the men on board were:
Animated by a flame which even death would extinguish with difficulty, the flame of Italy … There were doctors, surgeons and chaplains. Everyone … well-behaved … the son of the people with hands rough from daily work, and the son of the rich aristocrat, on whose finger precious rings still shone … lively and varied groups, with different attitudes, and united together by a single sentiment: Italy.80
Both for ideological reasons and because of practical considerations and, as we have seen already, in attempts to ‘make’ Italians in Palermo, Garibaldi's expedition is represented in the democratic press as an idealised Italian family and a model
of democratic inclusiveness.
As the expedition progressed through Sicily, took Palermo and became an army, an increasing amount of emphasis came to be placed on the heroism of those involved, and on the listing of those individuals who had suffered in the struggle. L'Unità Italiana set the tone in late June with a letter from Pietro Ripari, a surgeon and veteran from Garibaldi's 1848–9 and 1859 campaigns, which created a pantheon of heroes – those brave and still untouched, and those wounded but determined to fight on:
our men are real heroes – I won't talk to you of Garibaldi – the first in any danger, uncaring, disdainful, fully convinced that he cannot die … of Sirtori, I tell you that there is no one who exceeds him in fearlessness and cold-bloodedness … Bixio, the real live wire of war, he too wounded in the chest … he will not take off his uniform until victory is assured. Cairoli, another generous man who accomplished prodigious tasks with his chosen company. Mosto, whose brother was killed … is also a hero…81
Readers were encouraged to follow the convalescence of their wounded heroes: ‘Canzio is better, but he has suffered greatly. Damele is much better. Evangelisti is better. The two Cairoli brothers are better, but for the older one it is going to take a long time … the younger one is much better.’82 L'Unità Italiana published on 15 July, ‘to satisfy … the demands’ of its readers, a list of all the dead and wounded garibaldini, complete with their name, origin, age and type of wound sustained.83 On 28 July, Il Diritto published a letter from one of Garibaldi's medical corps (probably the English Mazzinian, Jessie White Mario), stating that none of the wounded volunteers ever complained: ‘“We have come here to die for Garibaldi”, they say, “and we still hope to do so”.’84
The nationalist press also followed a style of reporting established during the Crimean War, and took a great interest in the heroic doctors and nurses who cared for the wounded and dying. The above letter was followed by another, from a volunteer, which shifted the focus directly on to the medical services. The volunteer praised the doctors and especially the ‘signora Mario White’ for ‘that care which could be called maternal, which is rarely found away from one's own family’. Jessie White was ‘the consoling angel of the sick’, according to yet another volunteer, with a ‘maternal care’ for her patients. She was matched only by the ‘fatherliness’ of the doctor, and the kindness of another nurse who soothed their brows, helped them in their ‘most vulgar needs’, talked to them ‘about our mothers and our countryside’, and read them the victory bulletins.85
If these letters sought to stress all the suffering, gentleness and consolation of the good Italian family, other letters written from the front line publicised the triumphant progress of Garibaldi's army through Sicily and beyond. On 4 June, Il Diritto published Garibaldi's letter to Bertani saying they had arrived in Marsala and were ‘welcomed with enthusiasm’ by the crowd, who ‘joined up with us in large groups’.86 Letters in L'Unità Italiana, Il Diritto and L'Opinione stressed (equally inaccurately) the enormous welcome given to Garibaldi at Marsala, ‘with cheers for the liberator, for Italy and King Vittorio’; ‘The enthusiasm of the people is immense … the cry of everybody is “Viva Vittorio Emanuele our King”’.87 With somewhat more justification, newspapers stressed the audacity and courage of Calatafimi: ‘to describe the marvellous enthusiasm and the miracles of bravery of our young men would be impossible,’ Il Diritto told its readers on 3 June.88
All the epistolary evidence suggests a general consensus to construct and promote a story of the Thousand as an exemplary Risorgimento narrative. After Palermo was taken, all practical and political press restrictions on reporting were lifted, and an information explosion occurred around Garibaldi's expedition. The struggle for Palermo was described in great detail in lengthy letters, as were the city and its inhabitants,89 and the volume of letters grew still further once Garibaldi had left Palermo for Milazzo, in mid-July, and his intention to cross to Calabria and take Naples became clear. More than ever, the letters glorified the campaign and reflected on its miraculous impact and outcome. ‘Dear Papa!’, one letter began, which described the bravery of the soldiers at Milazzo but added:
we must also admit that there is something heaven-sent which protects them in their holy enterprise. Not just enthusiasm for the national cause which makes them capable of those miracles which have amazed Europe, but its influence extends also over the population which throngs around us and produces a kind of dizziness amongst our enemies.90
The welcome Messina gave the garibaldini was said to have been ‘something from another world!’91 After Garibaldi reached Naples, letters to the papers spoke of nothing but the festivities surrounding his arrival (‘for three days we had an ovation which no other story or people has ever received’), and marvelled at what had been achieved, and how quickly: ‘they [Garibaldi and his soldiers] did not come but they were, if you like, pulled to Naples by a rapid, all-powerful, marvellous current … It is really something to make your head spin: it exceeds the wildest imagination, spoils the tactical calculations, and makes all diplomatic ventures redundant.’92
Of course, the real centre of attention was Garibaldi: his leadership of the expedition guaranteed publicity, and his soldiers’ letters from the campaign of 1860 glorified him above all else. This was clear from the beginning. From their stop in Talamone, a volunteer wrote to Il Diritto on 7 May that they were all seasick but ‘the General is in great form, he does not suffer at all and inspires courage and confidence in everyone’.93 From the front, other letters repeated the same message, broadly reflecting the official cult of Garibaldi being constructed in Palermo. He was their adored and trusted leader, with powers far greater than their own, but he was also gentle and kind with his followers. From Calatafimi, a volunteer wrote that Garibaldi ‘was present at every position; the fear of seeing him hit by enemy fire made us double our efforts’;94 from Messina, another confessed that ‘[w]ith him command is sweet, and we would go with him to the end of the world’.95 There was an especially joyous letter sent by a volunteer who had shared a boat trip with Garibaldi from Palermo to Messina at the end of August: ‘the brave Italian, affectionate with everyone, he never puts on an heroic act or pretends to be a great man’. Garibaldi, the volunteer told his readers, had eaten his meals with the men, he had joined them in singing patriotic songs on board, and he had even taught them a song they didn't know already:
You cannot imagine what ran through my mind … my heart beat at a furious rate. That man responsible for miraculous acts, whose name is enough to rout whole enemy legions, that man whose name is spoken with respect throughout the entire world, was there sitting on a barrel of fresh water … singing along with us, while the boat steamed along the coast, where an entire population worships him … oh! it really was something quite incredible.96
Once again, the epistolary formula is used to great effect here. Contrasting the intimate experience with the public pose, the humility of the man with his political fame, the letter serves only to intensify the reader's response to Garibaldi's personal greatness.
As if all this was not enough, Garibaldi was joined in June by Alexandre Dumas. Dumas was in the process of editing and embellishing Garibaldi's memoirs for publication, and had been enjoying a lengthy tour and cruise of southern Europe and the Mediterranean. He apparently decided to join Garibaldi in order to get more material.97 He had an agreement to publish his letters and reports in the French liberal papers, Le Constitutionel, La Presse and Le Siècle, and later, in Naples, he told Garibaldi that he had a ‘great ambition … to lend my activity to the profit of your popularity’.98 In effect, Dumas became the first, and self-appointed, historian of the Thousand, and he brought to the task the right blend of journalistic realism, poetic licence and narrative skill. As a clearly envious correspondent of The Illustrated London News put it:
[Dumas] is engaged in writing the history of the revolution, which will in reality be a Sicilian romance, with all the information gleaned right and left, and f
rom opposite sources, crammed into it. No offence to our neighbours across the Channel, but they have a most extraordinary fashion of relating actual occurrences.99
Although Dumas was indeed to write a book about his experiences,100 of more immediate importance in 1860 was a series of published letters from, about, and after the battle of Milazzo. These letters were addressed to the wounded volunteer, Giacinto Carini, but were clearly intended for a much wider national and international readership.
Remarkable both for their intense immediacy (he pulled up anchor at Messina, Dumas tells his readers, and arrived in the Gulf of Milazzo when ‘the battle had begun’) and intimacy (‘the General has opened his eyes, he has recognised me and is looking at me’), it was Dumas' letters which instantly established the battle of Milazzo as a canonic moment in Risorgimento history. The letters were published as a supplement to the Italian paper, Il Movimento, in the National Society's Piccolo Corriere d'Italia, in the Sicilian La Forbice, and in the French La Presse. The London Times published two official bulletins about ‘the battle of Melazzo [sic]’ on 1 August, together with a lengthy excerpt from Dumas' first letter. In this first and most important letter, Dumas highlighted the drama of the occasion. Milazzo was a ‘battle of the giants’; a ‘[g]reat battle, a great victory; 7000 Neapolitans have fled in front of 2500 Italians’. The garibaldini fought like heroes: Medici was at the head of his men, and his horse was killed under him; Cosenz fell to the ground with a bullet in his neck, ‘we thought he was mortally wounded, but then he leapt up shouting: Viva l'Italia!”’ Of course, the greatest hero of the day was Garibaldi, ‘at the head of his men, directing the fire; while twenty paces away the cannon fire rattled’; he was persuaded to pull back only when he had his shoes and stirrups blown off and his wounded horse became uncontrollable.
