I Remember the Risorgimento

By Honor Mamath

I Remember the Risorgimento, an historical novel tells Jessie White’s story of the first female journalist to cover Italy’s war for independence during the years 1854 to 1860.
No shrinking violet, she’s a Victorian girl of twenty two who becomes a valued friend of Giuseppe Garibaldi, a favorite hero in the revolution. The danger of war, political intrigue, and a surprise romance takes her to Sicily before the battles with the French and Austrians.
The author notes that names, places and events come from Jessie’s summary printed in the New Castle Daily Chronicle in 1861. This means reader, you might discover the family name of an ancestor who fought for Italy’s independence.
Author’s license includes the dialog, ten percent of the characters and approximate timing of events to nudge the reader’s understanding of the material.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781984584830

Honor Mamath

Honor Mamath lived in Europe for two years on a military base in 1962 and 1963, during President Kennedy's assassination. Since that shock to the world, she is interested in what history can teach us. Later, she earned her high school teaching credential and taught at a business college in the 1980s. Her interest in human relationships, as well as historical adventures, inspires her plots and stories.

Book preview

I Remember the

Risorgimento

HONOR MAMATH

Copyright © 2020 by Honor Mamath.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 07/13/2020

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CONTENTS

Prologue

PART I

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

PART II

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

PART III

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Epilogue

Author Interview

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Italy 1847

Susanna, eleven, remembered her promise to be a good sister.

She told Antonio, four years old, to walk faster to get away from the bad noise. They were on a hill struggling on frozen ground as the loud cracking sounds stopped.

Susanna looked down to where her father felled a tree to make a play fort. Susanna knew cut trees started with the cracking sound but ended with a thump when they fell. The new cracking sound didn’t end with a thump. She couldn’t see their father anymore.

Antonio wasn’t walking fast because the hill was steep.

His small hand felt cold and stiff to her. It took five more minutes to get up to firmer snow above the tree line. When she looked back, she could see soldiers riding fast through the trees.

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Two cadets rode to the training site in the woods. They were members of the junior guard of the Austrian army. Alberto wasn’t happy that Austria controlled the rights to this forest. He was Italian and his fellow countrymen had taken wood from this forest since he could remember.

Why so glum Alberto?

Alberto muttered under his breath.

I’d like to finish early, Rudolf, and go to Fabrisio’s party.

I’m not going, Alberto, because today I re-enlist. I want a regular soldier’s pay like my cousin Arni.

Alberto knew that Rudolf’s father’s side who were all Austrian would approve, yet his Italian mother would not. He didn’t answer right away. His own father had paid for a substitute to take his place. He didn’t want to tell Rudolf yet.

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The soldiers on horseback pointed to the mountain. One said two thieves were escaping up there. He jumped off his horse and aimed his rifle. Susanna fell never knowing what hit her.

Idiot! Don’t you know those could be children up there?

The soldier who fired put down his rifle and gasped, covering his face. The lead soldier directed the men to return to their village command post.

Coming toward them, Rudolf saw the four soldiers and was waved down. The lead officer told the cadets to go to a site a half mile away to finish a job for the Austrians.

Bury them.

Yes sir, Rudolf replied.

When they found the three men who had been killed for illegal theft in King Francis Joseph’s new forest, the cadets said a quick prayer for their Italian neighbors. This was why Alberto hated the Austrian’s occupation. He found Antonio, the small boy, sometime after.

She’s a bad girl, the boy said as he slapped his sister on the arm. I told her to get up, but she won’t do what I said.

Alberto found out the boy’s name and asked him to go with Rudolf to the house with green shutters, the boy’s grandmother’s, in their town.

When they left, Alberto carried the girl down to her father’s side and covered all the bodies with a horse blanket. Fighting to control his emotions, he left to get the town’s magistrate to send men to take the fallen workers home to their families for proper burial.

I don’t understand, the magistrate in town said when he heard what happened.

Permission to cut trees was given by our post in Venice when the supervisor reported ill. That meant the other Italian workers were cleared to go to the forest by themselves.

Alberto sat in silence. The Austrian soldiers wouldn’t know about the changed permit. They were stationed in a nearby town so local directions wouldn’t reach them, he was told. When Alberto met up with the other cadet, Rudolf snapped his fingers.

Time to pick up my re-enlistment papers, but let’s have lunch first.

You go ahead Rudolf. I’m not hungry.

At home Alberto decided not to sign up for future draft notices from Austria. He ripped off the cadet’s patch on his uniform. It was a murderous symbol of the Austrian occupation and no longer valued by him. It was time to join the Italian liberation movement.

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PART I

Chapter 1

Graduation day this Friday was my freedom day from endless school assignments. The thought of a future of my own choosing gave me a feeling of pure joy. Putting down the newspaper about Italians in danger to the south, I hunted for my book bag. It was time to get ready for my appointment with Headmistress Wolfur.

Jessie, your attention please.

Angela was waving a guest list for her father’s party.

Just a second, Angie.

She wanted me to check the party-goer’s names on her list.

Don’t forget to ask headmistress if we can have the music room. And though your cousin isn’t graduating, we would like you to ask Harriet to attend, Jessie.

Thanks, Angela. I hope big bad wolf lets us have the music room.

Angela’s hand shot up at my name calling. She didn’t often do that since I turned sixteen because, she said, my behavior had improved. I did try to copy her ladylike ways now that I’d grown past my fourteen year old self that was so fond of seeking attention.

Angela Ciari was my trusted roommate and best friend. The other day she paid me a compliment. She’d said I’d proven to her that arguing wasn’t always a negative behavior. I’d explained how an opinion wouldn’t be disregarded if you argued nicely.

Now it was time for my appointment. I was feeling jittery because of a previous appointment with the headmistress. Mrs. Wolfur had given me a blistering warning.

You are not to leave school, Jessie, without my permission.

She didn’t like George Dawson’s street speeches because any of her girls seen at his gatherings risked the school’s reputation.

Of course. I was already a suspect because I was overheard talking about his philosophy and I read books like his that were not on our reading list. Birmington Academy stressed traditional education for its pupils. I’d complained to Angela that it was my fate to attend a traditional school.

You ninny. Tradition is what education is about. And, Jessie, you said your mother attended this school herself. That’s tradition.

Angela waved to me from the doorway bringing me back to the present. It was time for my appointment.

Meet you later, four o’clock, sports pavilion, all right?

I waved back.

See you then.

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Janet Oliver, assistant dean, showed me in to the cave that was Mrs. Wolfur’s office, opening a curtain to further illuminate the interior. The headmistress appeared in the anemic beam of light reaching her arms.

It has been awhile, Jessie White, since we’ve chatted.

Yes, Mrs. Wolfur. Thank you for seeing me.

You may sit, Jessie. I have some promising news.

I sat down behind the sizable mahogany desk that separated us. I decided to be as appreciative as I could upon hearing her good news.

"I’ve asked the Evening Post to invite you and two others to submit your graduation speeches to include in their anniversary issue."

I nodded. My theme of equality and justice would motivate the graduates to live the ideals of the French Revolution and the Americans’

Bill of Rights. I had worried that my theme would be seen as too lofty for the commencement speech.

Now, Jessie, you know we try to ensure the future success of our graduates. So I hope you will practice the good behaviors you’ve learned.

I took a quick breath. She was referring to modesty in how we dressed and limiting our opinions in the company of gentlemen.

So therefore, Jessie, we hope you will head out in the right direction, so to speak. Now that you’re leaving school. So you will fit in with the best of society.

She paused before adding, Sooner than you expect, you should find a proper young man with a promising future.

I remained silent. Was she giving me a final lesson?

I felt restless.

And being a healthy young lady, you are sure to raise many wonderful children someday.

I remained speechless. Was this the school’s goal for someone like me? Healthy girls who married early were the ones who had eleven or more children by their forties. My wicked fourteen year old self returned as I thought, I will not hatch offspring like a mother hen. I was about to protest but saw a wrinkle wobble up between her eyebrows."

Jessie, I am sorry, but you will not be giving the graduation speech.

Mrs. Wolfur came around the desk and stood by me as tears welled up in my eyes.

There now, dear. You can enjoy graduation week. Don’t forget we have a special dinner and dance planned for you and all the graduates.

I was still in a daze as she walked me out of her office. I said no good-byes to either Janet Oliver or Mrs. Wolfur. Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, forget the handkerchief tucked up my sleeve, I headed for the dorm to find Angela. She’d know what went wrong.

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You read my speech. What do you think was wrong with it?

Do you think, Jessie, that it was your reference to Malthus’s theory?

You mean the paragraph about food shortages so bad that thousands of people would starve to death when the world became overpopulated?

Should the graduates even hear such a dismal prediction?

You were right to caution me, Angela.

"Jessie, you can recover. Didn’t Mrs. Wolfur say your address will still be in the Evening Post?"

"Yes. I won’t be a naysayer. I will not use Malthus’s warning for the Post."

Instead of tea at four o’clock, we headed to the sports pavilion with our hockey sticks. What a relief it was to hear the sound of wood cracking when my stick smacked a wooden hockey ball and sent it flying down the field. I could take the frowns of the many as long as I had the smiles of the few like Angela. Her friendship and approval meant a lot to me.

By the end of the afternoon my sense of purpose returned. I would continue to pen worthy ideas. The lesson for me today was to know when I should write such words and for whom.

Chapter 2

By late August 1854, Angela and I were working in our first jobs. Cousin Harriet also graduated and was a tutor for our Aunt Kate’s children.

We predicted she’d marry first and start a family whereas Angela and I decided to pursue an unconventional role first, that of having a paid job.

Angela was a junior editor for a local publisher. She’d do well as a diplomat’s wife having been a diplomat’s daughter. My two friends said I should join an explorer to South America or Asia because I was best suited for a life of adventure. Would any of these predictions come true?

Currently I was a proof reader for the London Daily News. My boss encouraged me to submit articles as well, which I preferred to do since my well received essay comparing men’s preference for brotherhood versus nationalism.

Two weeks after my political opinion piece, I was promoted to a junior correspondent’s position which would take me to France in the Fall.