type of a depraved class which very unjustly represented
the Liberal party in Rome before 1870, and which,
among those who witnessed its proceedings, drew upon
the great political body which demanded the unity
of Italy an opprobrium that body was very far from
deserving. The honest and upright Liberals were
waiting in 1866. What they did, they did from
their own country, and they did it boldly. To
no man of intelligence need I say that Del Ferice had
no more affinity with Massimo D’Azeglio, with
the great Cavour, with Cavour’s great enemy
Giuseppe Mazzini, or with Garibaldi, than the jackal
has with the lion. Del Ferice represented the
scum which remained after the revolution of 1848 had
subsided. He was one of those men who were used
and despised by their betters, and in using whom Cavour
himself was provoked into writing “Se noi facessimo
per noi quel che faciamo per l’Italia, saremmo
gran bricconi”—if we did for ourselves
what we do for Italy, we should be great blackguards.
And that there were honourable and just men outside
of Rome will sufficiently appear in the sequel to
this veracious tale.