Mrs General Talboys | Page 8

not exactly
remarking the pith of his last observation; "from bonds quasi- terrestrial
and quasi-celestial. The full-formed limbs of the present age, running
with quick streams of generous blood, will no longer bear the ligatures
which past times have woven for the decrepit. Look down upon that
multitude, Mackinnon; they shall all be free." And then, still clutching
him by the arm, and still standing at the top of those stairs, she gave
forth her prophecy with the fury of a Sybil.
"They shall all be free. Oh, Rome, thou eternal one! thou who hast
bowed thy neck to imperial pride and priestly craft; thou who hast
suffered sorely, even to this hour, from Nero down to Pio Nono,--the
days of thine oppression are over. Gone from thy enfranchised ways for
ever is the clang of the Praetorian cohorts and the more odious drone of
meddling monks!" And yet, as Mackinnon observed, there still stood
the dirty friars and the small French soldiers; and there still toiled the
slow priests, wending their tedious way up to the church of the Ara
Coeli. But that was the mundane view of the matter,--a view not
regarded by Mrs. Talboys in her ecstasy. "O Italia," she continued, "O
Italia una, one and indivisible in thy rights, and indivisible also in thy
wrongs! to us is it given to see the accomplishment of thy glory. A

people shall arise around thine altars greater in the annals of the world
than thy Scipios, thy Gracchi, or thy Caesars. Not in torrents of blood,
or with screams of bereaved mothers, shall thy new triumphs be stained.
But mind shall dominate over matter; and doomed, together with Popes
and Bourbons, with cardinals, diplomatists, and police spies, ignorance
and prejudice shall be driven from thy smiling terraces. And then Rome
shall again become the fair capital of the fairest region of Europe.
Hither shall flock the artisans of the world, crowding into thy marts all
that God and man can give. Wealth, beauty, and innocence shall meet
in thy streets--"
"There will be a considerable change before that takes place," said
Mackinnon.
"There shall be a considerable change," she answered. "Mackinnon, to
thee it is given to read the signs of the time; and hast thou not read?
Why have the fields of Magenta and Solferino been piled with the
corpses of dying heroes? Why have the waters of the Mincio ran red
with the blood of martyrs? That Italy might be united and Rome
immortal. Here, standing on the Capitolium of the ancient city, I say
that it shall be so; and thou, Mackinnon, who hearest me, knowest that
my words are true."
There was not then in Rome,--I may almost say there was not in Italy,
an Englishman or an American who did not wish well to the cause for
which Italy was and is still contending; as also there is hardly one who
does not now regard that cause as well-nigh triumphant; but,
nevertheless, it was almost impossible to sympathise with Mrs. Talboys.
As Mackinnon said, she flew so high that there was no comfort in
flying with her.
"Well," said he, "Brown and the rest of them are down below. Shall we
go and join them?"
"Poor Brown! How was it that, in speaking of his troubles, we were led
on to this heart-stirring theme? Yes, I have seen them, the sweet angels;
and I tell you also that I have seen their mother. I insisted on going to
her when I heard her history from him."
"And what is she like, Mrs. Talboys?"
"Well; education has done more for some of us than for others; and
there are those from whose morals and sentiments we might thankfully
draw a lesson, whose manners and outward gestures are not such as

custom has made agreeable to us. You, I know, can understand that. I
have seen her, and feel sure that she is pure in heart and high in
principle. Has she not sacrificed herself; and is not self- sacrifice the
surest guarantee for true nobility of character? Would Mrs. Mackinnon
object to my bringing them together?"
Mackinnon was obliged to declare that he thought his wife would
object; and from that time forth he and Mrs. Talboys ceased to be very
close in their friendship. She still came to the house every Sunday
evening, still refreshed herself at the fountains of his literary rills; but
her special prophecies from henceforth were poured into other ears.
And it so happened that O'Brien now became her chief ally. I do not
remember that she troubled herself much further with the cherub angels
or with their mother; and I am inclined to think that, taking up warmly,
as she did, the story of O'Brien's matrimonial wrongs, she forgot the