Captain Mansana and Mothers Hands | Page 7

was evident they
could go no further without rest. All this Mansana took in at a glance.
It was a Sunday morning. The Italian troops were resting on the march;
mass had just been celebrated, and the men were at breakfast, when the
outposts suddenly saw young Mansana galloping towards them, carry a
lady before him and with two riderless horses secured to his
saddle-girth. The lady was a spy from the enemy's camp; her two
attendants--officers of the enemy's force--were lying wounded in the
forest. The lady was promptly recognised, and Mansana's "evviva" was
echoed and re-echoed by a thousand voices. The camp was
immediately broken up, as it was more than likely that the enemy was

in dangerous proximity, and every one realised that the quick presence
of mind of this Giuseppe Mansana alone had saved the whole vanguard
from the trap prepared for them.
I have many more anecdotes to tell of him, but in order that they shall
be properly appreciated, I must mention that he was universally
considered the best fencer and gymnast in the army; on this point, I
never, then or afterwards, heard more than one opinion.
Soon after the close of the war, while Mansana was quartered in
Florence, a story was told, in one of the military cafés, of a certain
Belgian officer, who, a couple of weeks previously, had been a frequent
visitor to the place. It had been discovered that this officer was, in
reality, in the Papal service, and that, on his return to Rome, he had
amused himself and his comrades by giving insulting accounts of the
Italian officers, whom, with few exceptions, he described as ignorant
parade-puppets, chiefly distinguished for their childish vanity. This
aroused great indignation amongst the officers of the garrison in
Florence, and no sooner did young Mansana hear the tale than he
straightway left the café, and applied to his colonel for leave of absence
for six days. This being granted him, he went home, bought himself a
suit of plain clothes, and started away, then and there, by the shortest
route for Rome. Crossing the frontier where the woods were thickest,
he found himself three days afterwards in the Papal capital, where, in
the officers' café on the Piazza Colonna, he quickly perceived his
Belgian officer. He went up to him, and quietly asked him to come
outside. He then gave him his name, and requested him to bring a
friend, and follow to some place beyond the city gates, in order that the
reputation of the Italian officers might be vindicated by a duel.
Mansana's reliance on the honour of the Belgian left the latter no
alternative; without delay he found a friend, and within three hours he
was a dead man.
Young Mansana promptly set off on his return journey, through the
forests, to Florence. He was careful not to mention where he had spent
his period of leave; but the news travelled to Florence from Rome, and
he was put under arrest for having left the town, and for having, besides,

crossed the frontier without special permission. His brother officers
celebrated his release by giving a banquet in his honour, and the king
conferred on him a decoration.
Shortly after this he was stationed at Salerno. It was the duty of the
troops to help in the suppression of the smuggling which was being
vigorously carried on along the coast; and Mansana, going out one day
in civilian dress, to obtain information, discovered at a certain hostelry
that a ship, with smuggled goods on board, was lying in the offing, out
of sight of land, but with evident intention of making for the shore
under cover of night. He went home, changed his clothes, took with
him two trusty followers, and as evening came on, rowed out from the
shore in a small, light boat. I heard this story told and confirmed on the
spot; I have heard it since from other sources, and I have subsequently
seen confirmatory accounts in the newspapers; but, notwithstanding all
this corroboration, it is still inconceivable to me how Mansana, with
only his two men, could have succeeded in boarding the smuggler and
compelling her crew of sixteen to obey his orders, and bring their
vessel to anchor in the roadstead.
After the taking of Rome, in which, and in the inundations which
occurred soon afterwards, Mansana specially distinguished himself, he
was sitting one evening outside the very café in which he had
challenged the Belgian Papal officer. There he overheard some of his
comrades, just returned from an entertainment, talking of a certain
Hungarian. This gentleman had been drinking pretty freely, and, whilst
under the influence of the insidious Italian wines, had boasted of the
superiority of his compatriots; and on being courteously