during the day, sometimes bringing up reinforcements, sometimes almost alone, always arriving at the nick of time whenever things looked serious, to help, direct and reanimate the men.  A dozen times in these journeys by the rugged mountain paths he narrowly escaped falling into the enemy’s hands.  No trace of uneasiness was visible on his placid face; there was, however, more than enough to make a man uneasy.  In the early part of the battle, both Medici and Bixio were pushed back from their positions.  Only Pilade Bronzetti with his handful of Lombard Bersaglieri never swerved, and held in check an entire Neapolitan column, whose commander (Perrone) has been blamed for wasting so much time in trying to take that position instead of joining his 2000 men to the troops attacking Bixio, but his object was to march on Caserta, where his appearance might have caused very serious embarrassment.

Up to midday the Royalists advanced, not fast, indeed, but surely.  They fired all the buildings on their path, and amongst others one in which there were thirty wounded Garibaldians who were burned to death.  It was said to be an accident, but such accidents had better not happen.  Victory seemed assured to them.  It is not disputed that on this occasion they fought well, and they had all the advantages of ground, numbers and artillery.  But the volunteers, also, were at their best; they surpassed themselves.  If every man of them had not shown the best military qualities, skill, resource, the power of recovery, Francis II. would have slept that night at Naples.

Medici acted with splendid firmness, but at the most critical moment he had Garibaldi by his side.  Bixio was left to fight his separate battle unaided (so great was the chief’s confidence in him), and consummately well he fought it.  After the middle of the day, the Garibaldians began to retake their positions, and at some points to assume the offensive; still it was five o’clock before Garibaldi could send his famous despatch to Naples:  ‘Victory along all the line.’  The battle had lasted ten hours.

The Sicilians and Calabrese under Dunne, who stemmed the first onset at Casa Brucciata, and under Eber, whose desperate charge at Porta Capua ushered in the changing fortunes of the day, rivalled the North Italians in steadiness and in dash.  The French company and the Hungarian Legion covered themselves with glory; it was a pity there was not the English brigade, 600 strong, which mismanaged to arrive at Naples the day after the fair.  Had they been in time for the fight, they would doubtless have left a brighter record than the only one which they did leave:  that of being out of place in a country where wine was cheap.

Putting aside Dunne and a few other English officers, England was represented on the Volturno by three or four Royal Marines who had slipped away from their ship, the Renown, and were come over to see the ‘fun.’  It seems that they did ask for rifles, but they did not get them, their martial deeds consisting in the help they gave in dragging off two captured field-pieces.  Never did an exploit cause so much discussion in proportion with its importance; the Neapolitan Minister in London informed Lord John Russell that a body of armed men from the British fleet had been sent by Admiral Mundy to serve pieces of Garibaldian artillery.