gently and act bravely, from about us and within us may be gained friends and helpers who shall be our constant companions.

To make this year such that we shall like to look back upon it is the delightful task which is put before us. We may so use it, so search out its secrets of wisdom and love, and so aim and work that at its end it may be added as a great increase in our resources for happiness and holiness in all time to come, because we shall make more of its moments sacred, so that they shall always be speaking to us about God.

A MARTYR-PRIEST: UGO BASSI.

"A single striking and pathetic personality has

find the rudely realistic sketch of a scene which, be it real or imaginary, is by many believed to have taken place almost as it is represented on the page before us.

In the background, to the right, we see a double file of ferocious, heavy-featured Croats, with their captain, awaiting orders. To the front a man, still in the prime of life, is kneeling upon the stones, with closed eyes, and an air of quiet suffering and unconscious heroism upon his worn, finely marked face, beside a fire burning upon the ground. Close behind him to the left stands a fierce figure in the dress of a priest, one hand roughly laid on the head of the kneeling prisoner, while the other is thrusting into the flames some long, sharp

all the elements of patriotism existing within the ecclesiastic pale. Others are forgotten: Ugo Bassi is not; and the Italian people have added a saintly nimbus to his crown of martyrdom."*

In one of the public libraries of Philadelphia is a certain book, carefully locked away, and only to be examined by visitors under supervision, at the desk. It is called "A Relic of the Italian Revolution," by G. Daelli; and this copy was printed in New Orleans in 1849. It contains the reprints of a series of satirical sketches drawn to illustrate several of the leading Roman journals during the short-lived republic of that year. It is a book more likely to interest a historian or a bibliographer than the general reader. The somewhat coarse engravings (explained by copious notes in French, English, and Italian) are often roughly and incorrectly drawn. Carica ture is made to run wild in exposing the vices and follies of priests and kings. The sarcasm is frequently fierce and pungent rather than refined. The volume, on the whole, may prove somewhat disappointing, even to an enthusiast for the subject of Italian unity; yet there is one picture toward the close (probably added after the others were already before the public) where, in the stead of allegorical monsters and overstrained attempts at the heroic, we

From "Italian Characters in the Epoch of Unification," p. 271. A masterly series of most interesting biographies by the Countess Evelyn Martinengo Cesaresco (née Evelyn Carrington). The article upon Bassi, to which we are gratefully indebted for much of the material for the present outline of his career, appeared in the British Quarterly Review for January, 1881.

say which) that he is about to use for the purpose of degrading his victim from the ranks of the clergy (without which savage ceremony no priest might lawfully be executed) by scorching the palms of his hands and his forehead, once consecrated by the holy oil. Another repulsive form, also in clerical garb, stands at his side.

This kneeling prisoner is Fra Ugo Bassi who (said by an eye-witness to have undergone this mockery of "deconsecration") was shot at Bologna, by order of the Austrians, Aug. 8, 1849, having been captured after he had followed Garibaldi, as chaplain, on his retreat from Rome.

Ugo Bassi, whom the grateful memory of patriotic Italians has thus enshrined as the ideal of a martyr-priest, was the son of a native of Bologna, but on his mother's side of Greek blood. He was born at Cento in the first year of this century, his parents removing to Bologna for the sake of his education. His baptismal name was Giovanni. When but fourteen, he showed his soldier-spirit by attempting to enlist under Murat. Gentle, studious, and precocious, the chief incident of his early youth was the romance of his secret and boyish attachment to a delicate young girl, Anna Bentiviglio, the sister of a schoolmate. She faded away of a decline; and Bassi, who had begged to be allowed to see her in her coffin, after kneeling long in silence, gazing at her face, arose from his knees with the fixed determination to renounce the world and become a monk. When not more than eighteen, on Oct. 24, 1818, he entered as a

novice of the Order of St. Barnabas, preferring it to that of St. Francis, because, as he said, "I do not wish to beg," and exchanging his name of Giovanni for that of Ugo.

For nearly fifteen years we know but little of him save that he was soon sent to Rome, where he was busied with religious duties, studies of antiquity, and music, gaining, moreover, a fluent command of writing both in French and English. He was also a student of Greek and Latin, and a constant reader of Shakspeare and Byron. He painted and sang well, and wrote a long poem called "The Cross Victorious," in which his poetic prophecy of a future Rome, freed and regenerated, which should be destined to become the guiding star of nations, reminds us of Mazzini's own dearest visions, so eloquently and so often expressed in the great republican's poetic prose.

Like Savonarola, Bassi had been many years a monk before he became known as a preacher; though, unlike the former, he seems to have had no record of failures at the start. It was not until 1833 that his public ministry was entered upon. His sermons, while lacking, as it is said, in the force and finish requisite to satisfy an Anglo-Saxon audience, were yet admirably adapted to an enthusiastic Italian one. We are told that his intellect always retained a youthful element, never maturing beyond a certain point. But he evidently possessed in large measure that simplicity of nature so often found among Europeans, which, when united to intelligence, kindliness, and sympathy, never fails to produce an attractive whole. In the only too copious German tongue there are two different words to express our one for "simplicity." One is Einfachheit, signifying that simplicity which coexists with intelligence. The other, Einfültigkeit, denotes the quality which makes a simpleton. We may say of Bassi that he was truly einfach but not einfältig. His well-earned fame as a preacher was soon heightened by his heroic devotion to the victims of a cholera epidemic at Palermo. He. had recently left the city, when, hearing of the peril, he hastened back, going straight to a hospital, where he stayed, astonishing both patients and physicians by his fearless fortitude and

In 1847 he had an interview at the Vatican with the new liberal pontiff, Pio Nono, then in the prime of his short-lived popularity, who, after he had talked with him, exclaimed, "What a good heart Father Bassi has!" and is said to have been much affected when, a couple of years later, he was told of his tragic and untimely death. Then came the memorable days of 1848. Bassi was preaching a course of Lenten sermons at Ancona when Father Gavazzi passed through, in his capacity of chaplain to a band of the "Crociati” (Crusaders), as the volunteers were called by the hopeful, excited Italians. The liberal pope had sent his troops to the front, commanded by General Durando, who ordered each man to wear a cross upon his breast. All Italy was in the ferment of patriotic excitement started by the news of the five days' fighting at Milan (March, 1848), when the Austrians had been put to flight. The papal soldiers had been harangued by Gavazzi at a great meeting in the Coliseum before their departure. Bassi gladly seized the opportunity of offering his priestly services to Gavazzi, accompanied him to Bologna, and preached to a vast crowd, with an effect reported as being "beyond all possibility of believing." All classes pressed forward with offerings for the patriotic cause. But the inevitable reaction at Rome had already begun.

There seems no reason to doubt that Pio Nono, although not a man of very strong intellect or character, was personally inclined to liberal ideas, while but too soon discovering that he could not go on in the paths of liberalism as a pope. Had he been a private citizen, a simple parish priest, or even an obscure monk, it seems not unlikely that his sympathies with the better order of things might have impelled him forward, if not precisely side by side with Bassi and Gavazzi, still in the direction of struggle and sacrifice for his native land. But his mind then, as ever, remained fettered by the fixed idea of its being his duty to "transmit the heritage of Saint Peter undiminished to

his successors." A parallel might almost be drawn in this respect between him and the unfortunate Charles Albert of Sardinia, whose inability to advance as firmly and as far as he otherwise would have wished in the direction of Italian emancipation is said to be partially owing to the fact (not often mentioned) of his having been obliged, when heir presumptive, to obtain a reconciliation with his uncle Charles Felix (who had been advised to try to oust him from the succession) by making an agreement that as king he would "maintain the government during his reign precisely as he found it on his accession," as a penalty for his share in the unsuccessful liberal movements of 1821.

All know the sequel,-the pope's rapid backsliding from the liberal ranks, his easy surrender to the powers of retrogression. He disclaimed active activities, and his general crossed the Po "against orders."

a

Bassi continued with the troops as chaplain, displaying the utmost coolness under fire, exposing himself continually, hit by bullets in three places during a sortie from Treviso, and refusing all attention to his wounds until he had given the last sacraments to General Guidotti, who was dying. Bassi rejoiced, in his simple-hearted, boyish fashion, in having at last shed his blood for Italy, and soon went to Venice, where Manin, then President, took him into his own house until his tedious convalescence was over. No sooner had he recovered than he resumed his untiring labors among the soldiers and the sick. After the Roman troops had been recalled from Venice, he went to Ravenna, and thence to Bologna. This was late in 1848, and in February, 1849, the Constituent Assembly of Rome proclaimed a republic, the pope having fled some weeks before.

Bassi hastened to Rome, and in March went to Rieti to join Garibaldi, of whom he wrote to his mother: "The dear reception I have received from the hero, Garibaldi, I cannot describe, or rather I could not have wished it better... This is the hero my soul has ever sought."

"a uniform of his own, which he had twice worn,- handsome and most precious. . . . So the next day I went forth dressed in Garibaldi's uniform. He wears no badge of generalship, such as gold lace, slashings, and other mockeries, but dresses like the rest of the officers. ... About Italy I will not speak: shame makes me silent. Italy is here in our camp. . . . Italy is Garibaldi and his followers."

It was during these last months of his life that the sort of poetic charm attached to Bassi's magnetic personality reached its climax. Garibaldi wrote afterward, "For our wounded, Ugo Bassi, young, handsome, and eloquent, was really the angel of death." In point of fact, he was some years older than his adored general; yet he evidently was one of those mortals who always still seem young. Far on though he was in the late forties, he made an impression of youthfulness, assisted by his fair skin, calm, clear eyes, long, flowing brown hair, and the sweetness of his frequent smile. He carried no arms, and wore the priestly crucifix on his breast, outside of Garibaldi's uniform. Galloping on a fiery horse at the side of his general (for whom he often acted as orderly), he would dash into the midst of the fight, sometimes seizing a wounded man and hoisting him upon his own saddle and carrying him out of fire. He himself was never again wounded, though Garibaldi exclaimed: "That man saddens me. One can see that he is bent on getting killed." When he routed the first attack of the French, under Oudinot, on that memorable 30th of April, 1849, the only prisoner made by the flying enemy was Ugo Bassi, who had had his horse shot under him, and was sitting on the ground, supporting one of the wounded. Rudely treated by the French soldiers, he received more courtesy from Gen. Oudinot, who employed him as the messenger for his unsuccessful attempts at negotiations with the Roman government. He had written exultingly to his mother, "Now we are to the front, and live like real soldiers." During the period of the armistice with the French he accompanied Garibaldi on his victorious campaign against the king of Naples, who was leading an army toward Rome, but was defeated at Velletri and other places; while the "Lion," soon returning in triumph, told

how Bassi would implore him to "send him wherever there was danger," instead of some one more useful than himself. When, ere daybreak, on the stormy 3d of June the armistice was virtually broken by the French attacking the outposts of the Villa Pamphili, beyond the Porta San Pancrazio, the short, sharp siege of Rome had really begun.

Readers of Margaret Fuller's letters may remember her description of the state of things during these four weeks of vain yet heroic struggle. On June 10 she writes, "This Rome is being destroyed: her glorious oaks, her villas, haunts of sacred beauty, that seemed the possession of the world forever,-. . . all must perish, lest a foe should level his musket from their shelter." And again, after she had undertaken the supervision of a hospital, she exclaims, in agonized pity for the wounded, many of them mere boys, and many already exiles from their place of birth, "I forget the great ideas, to sympathize with the poor moth

ers !"

It is easy to imagine how a man like Bassi, brave as a lion and gentle as any woman, strove and labored among the sick and dying. When on July 2 the Constituent Assembly found themselves compelled to desist from the now impossible defence, the Triumvirs Mazzini, Saffi, and Armellini resigned from office to avoid hindering the necessary capitulation or taking an active part. Garibaldi (to whom it is said that a safe conduct had been refused by the French, who were to enter the city the next day) decided to leave Rome, and offer his services either to Tuscany or Venice, with as many of his men as chose to follow him on a path where, as he told them, they would have no pay, no rations, only "hunger, peril, and war." It is said that five hundred horse and four thousand foot rallied round him in the great square of the Vatican, in sight of the balcony of St. Peter's, where that year at Easter, instead of the usual benediction pronounced by the pope (now a fugitive at Gaeta), the Romans had seen the consecrated host reverently borne aloft in its Monstranz by priestly hands, in sight of the vast multitude, while a blessing was spoken (some say by Gavazzi), and the triumvirs stood bareheaded behind the sacred symbol, in

token of their recognition of a great truth hidden in the emblem, which the absence of a pope could have no power to destroy. From the Vatican Garibaldi led his troop to the Piazza of St. John Lateran, the true cathedral church of Rome. All who have seen this noble building will recall its imposing situation, high at one end of the city, looking, from its sloping esplanade, far out, above the wall, into a sunny distance, bare and wild. Tall, reedlike plants grow on the half-marshy soil toward the gate, and bend their heads to the breeze with a soft, dry rustle. Margaret tells how she followed the Garibaldi legion to the piazza where Rienzi once held his triumph. "The sun was setting, the crescent moon rising, the flower of the Italian youth were marshalling in that solemn place. They had all put on the beautiful dress of the Garibaldi legion,the tunic of bright red cloth, the Greek cap, or round hat, with Puritan plume. Their long hair was blown back from resolute faces. . . . I saw the wounded, all that could not go, laden upon their baggage-cars. I saw many youths, born to rich inheritance, carrying in a handkerchief all their worldly goods. The wife of Garibaldi followed him on horseback. He himself was distinguished by the white tunic. His look was entirely that of a hero of the Middle Ages,

his face still young. He went upon the parapet, and looked upon the road with a spy-glass; and, no obstruction being in sight, he turned his face for a moment back upon Rome, then led the way through the gate. Never have I seen a sight so beautiful, so romantic, and so sad!"

Moments like these are the poetry of history. If only the future Lion of Caprera and Deliverer of the Two Sicilies could have foreseen, as he "turned his face for a moment back upon Rome," the day when, eleven years later, that face of his was to strike its magnetic influence into the hearts of the royalist gunners who stood with lighted matches behind their cannon, at the gates of Naples, as-with the words, "Drive slowly, more slowly!"—the general, in his open carriage, calmly rose to his feet with folded arms, and fixed his eyes upon them, till every match was dropped, and every cap was flung into the air with a deafening shout of "Viva Garibaldi!" If Mar

garet Fuller could have foreseen it as she stood watching the legion wind down that sloping road behind the church and out into the Italian sunset, her own brave heart bleeding for them, for Italy, and, most of all, for Rome!

Ugo Bassi, worn and weary (his last public function seems to have been when, on the morning of this same 2d of July, he had pronounced the funeral oration over Luciano Manara, the young Milanese hero, called the Lombard Lion), did not start with Garibaldi, but joined him at Tivoli. Often compelled to lag behind, he had caught up with his chief when, after manifold hardships and perils, he, with the remnant of his legion, embarked (in thirteen small fishing-smacks) at Cesenatico, on the Adriatic. In the boat with Garibaldi went Bassi, Anita (who, though ill, refused to be left), and several others. Troubled at first by a gale, when in sight of Venice they were chased by Austrian vessels. Most of the boats were captured; but four, including Garibaldi's, were driven ashore near the celebrated Pineta (pine forest) of Ravenna, where Byron once took his daily rides, and Dante in his exile wandered centuries ago. Some of the scattered patriots were caught and shot without trial, by the Austrians. Garibaldi, his suffering Anita, and Bassi were together. Bassi quitted them for the purpose of trying to exchange his scarlet trousers (borrowed from necessity of a soldier) for some of a less military and compromising color. Garibaldi struggled on with his dying wife toward the secluded farm-house (occupied by the steward of the Marquis Guiccioli) where she in a few hours breathed her last, her body being perforce left to be hurriedly interred by the kind peasants, while the hunted hero with difficulty made his escape through the wild solitudes.

Ugo Bassi soon joined company with a wounded officer, Count Livraghi, whom he met, and with whom he sought temporary shelter at a little inn near Comacchio. Discovered while they were sleeping the sleep of exhaustion by a papal commissary, they were dragged before the governor of the town, who would gladly have let them go, but dared not. A friend attempted to save them, but was too late. Twelve Croats drove them to prison, with pointed bayonets.

They were kept in captivity for two days. Bassi occupied himself with drawing on the wall a picture of Christ on the cross, writing under it: "Here Ugo Bassi suffered something, glad in spirit through the knowledge that he was innocent. Livraghi, a captain of Garibaldi, was present, and shared in everything." On the third day they were taken to Bologna, "my own dear country” (la mia cara patria), as Bassi called it, chained, and guarded by soldiers. It did not take long for the Austrian authorities to decide what to do. Count Livraghi was a Lombard, who had once served in the Austrian army; and Bassi was a follower of Garibaldi. That was enough. They were condemned to death.

Of the twelve priests, hastily summoned to lend a show of churchly sanction to Bassi's execution, three were Hungarians, and simply refused to countersign his deathwarrant, chaplains in the Austrian army though they were. The nine Italians proved more timid or less scrupulous, and signed. Monsignor Bedini, the papal legate, afterward disclaimed his supposed complicity with this semi-judicial murder, alleging that he had tried to delay the execution, which the Austrian general, Gorgowsky, had prematurely hurried through without his knowledge.

Bassi's

There is little else to be told. long record of bravery and gentleness remained unbroken to the last. His only sister was permitted to take leave of him; but his aged mother, for the short remainder of her life, was made to believe he was in prison, and might be released. On August 8 Bassi and Livraghi were taken to a spot, outside the gate of Sant' Isaia, where criminals were executed. A large crowd had assembled. The young officer in command was so deeply moved by the dreadful task before him that the order to fire had to be given by another.

He was buried near the spot where he fell. Every morning the place was found strewn with flowers, so that the papal commissary soon had the body transferred to the enclosed cemetery of the Certosa, where unknown friends would find it less easy to wander after dark. Ten years later, in September, 1859, when Garibaldi, as the hero of Como and Varese, was making his triumphal progress through Northern Italy, he