by Lucy Riall
There was nothing at all unusual about this kind of welcome. The failure of the revolutions in Europe had produced a stream of political refugees during 1850 and 1851, and various fundraising exercises and publicity drives were held in New York to help them and their political cause. General Avezzana had arrived some six months before Garibaldi to a great reception. The Tribune had published a profile of Avezzana's life, he was presented with a sword, and an enthusiastic ceremony was held in his honour at the chapel of New York University, after which he was received in the City Hall by the mayor and his council.39 Only a day before Garibaldi's arrival, the Venezuelan leader General Paez arrived as an exile in the city to another organised public greeting. The Tribune told its readers that he had ‘come to seek, on our shores, the liberty he so vainly sought and suffered for in his own country’, while the New York Herald dedicated its entire front page to a ‘Brief memoir’ of his life.40 Moreover, these kinds of receptions continued to be organised throughout the early 1850s. The most sensational of its kind was for the Hungarian exile, Lajos Kossuth, whose arrival in Manhattan in December 1851 was greeted with ‘such a scene as the world seldom beholds’, according to the New York Times.41 His speech was interrupted by crowds rushing the podium; there was a huge military parade on Broadway which echoed the exuberant welcome given in 1824 to the French ‘hero of two worlds’, Lafayette; street vendors did a brisk trade in Kossuth souvenirs (‘“Kossuth” everything, from the most delicate lace to the grossest human food’, according to the Tribune) and detailed descriptions of Kossuth's life and physical appearance appeared in all the papers. Kossuth and those with him were put up in a luxury hotel and enjoyed champagne, madeira and sherry at the expense of the New York government. He later embarked on a ‘barnstorming’ tour of the West.42 Hugh Forbes, a British radical who had fought with Garibaldi in 1849, gave lectures on Italy and his experiences, at New York University.43 Finally, the arrival in early 1853 of the ‘hero-priest’ Father Gavazzi, Garibaldi's former comradeinarms, was hailed as an important public event. There was great enthusiasm about his impressive personal appearance: ‘Tall, well made and well-developed … graceful yet impetuous … [he] seemed the very symbol of sincerity and power … his eyes flashing the fire of genuine eloquence’. His lectures in favour of religious liberty and against the Catholic priesthood also received considerable publicity.44
In other words, the reception planned for Garibaldi in New York was part of an American political tradition, as was the more general public and popular adoption of foreign exiles as political heroes. More specifically, American politicians and publicists were happy to use the 1848–9 revolutions in Europe for domestic purposes. Reactions to the revolutions, and the greeting given to the exiles, had become a means by which the USA ‘took stock of itself’; public opinion in the USA used events in Europe ‘to salute US revolutionary origins’ and to consider America's political future at a time of growing tension over the issue of slavery.45 In Garibaldi's case, public opinion was already well disposed, thanks to the publicity given to the Roman Republic by American writers such as Margaret Fuller. All of this suggested that there was great political capital to be made out of Garibaldi's stay in New York.
Yet Garibaldi refused to play any part in the celebrations planned for him. He arrived in Staten Island on 30 July and, after the quarantine, left quietly for Manhattan, from where he moved to the village of Hastings, some twenty miles north of the city on the Hudson river. In Hastings he wrote a letter, published in English in all the New York papers and in Italian in La Concordia and Il Repubblicano della Svizzera Italiana, in which he declined the honour of ‘a public reception’. Pleading ill health and a slow recovery, he insisted that:
No such public exhibition is necessary to assure me of the sympathy of my countrymen, of the American people, and of all true Republicans in the misfortunes which I have suffered, or of the cause out of which they have flowed. Though a public manifestation of this feeling might yield much gratification to me, an exile from my native land, severed from my children, and mourning the overthrow of my country's freedom by means of foreign interference, yet believe me that I would rather avoid it, and be permitted, quietly and humbly, to become a citizen of this great Republic of Freemen, to sail under its flag, to engage in business to earn my livelihood, and await a more favourable opportunity for the redemption of my country from foreign and domestic oppression.46
He spent much of September in Manhattan, staying with his fellow exile Felice Foresti in a friend's apartment on Irving Place, and in the autumn moved back to Staten Island and into the house of Antonio Meucci. During the winter on the island, he spent his time hunting and fishing, and trying to help Meucci by working in his new candle factory (which he said at least kept him warm).47 He became involved with the affairs of the Italian committee and in helping Italian immigrants, and tried to mediate in the rivalries between the Mazzinian and nonMazzinian exiles in New York; he also attended the funeral of Avezzana's wife and a concert in aid of Italian exiles. But in none of these activities did he assume a leading role.48 Garibaldi's letters reveal that his greatest problem was boredom and a sense of idleness, and his major concern was to procure a boat and make a living as a merchant seaman.49
American politicians and journalists made various attempts to bring Garibaldi out of his selfimposed obscurity. The veteran politician General Lewis Cass, Democratic Senator for Michigan, expresidential candidate and father of the man who had apparently given Garibaldi an American passport in Rome, wrote Garibaldi a public letter of welcome to ‘the land of freedom’. He praised Garibaldi for raising ‘the standard of liberty upon the Capitoline Hill’ and for reviving ‘the sprit of ancient Rome amid the monuments of her power and glory’. He told him that his ‘glorious exertions, followed by misfortunes born with equanimity, are a passport to the hearts and homes of my countrymen’, and invited him to pay a visit to Washington.50 There were also occasional mentions of Garibaldi in the newspapers. The Tribune expressed hope in his reemergence, praising the ‘modest and manly dignity’ of his letter of 7 August and anticipating that ‘a suitable opportunity may be afforded the public to testify their sympathy with the Italian cause and their regard for its chivalric soldier’.51 The Evening Post published an article on 10 March 1851 which mentioned a projected expedition by the Italian exiles to Italy, and took the opportunity to produce an extended tribute to Garibaldi, whose ‘name is a terror, not only to his treacherous countrymen, but to the forces of despotic Austria and disgraced France; [whose] little band of patriots, on every occasion, performed prodigies of valor, and [whose] brilliant defence of Rome, for bravery and skill, has seldom, if ever, been surpassed in the military annals’. According to his friend Foresti, Garibaldi also received ‘frequent visits from prominent Americans and foreigners, love letters and expressions of admiration from all parts of the Union, as well as gallant offerings’.52 Most notably perhaps, he met and impressed the poet Henry Tuckerman and the editor and writer Theodore Dwight.53
Dwight seems to have been entirely captivated by Garibaldi, and was keen to publicise his presence in the United States. He persuaded Garibaldi to give him a copy of his memoirs and to sit for a daguerreotype. With the help of Garibaldi and other exiles, Dwight produced the first booklength account of the Roman Republic, which was published in New York in 1851 as The Roman Republic of 1849; with accounts of the Inquisition and the siege of Rome.54 Although Dwight's main aim was to convince the American reader of a (somewhat unlikely but increasingly popular) theory that Italians were espousing Protestantism and were held back only by papal oppression,55 the real hero of his account is Garibaldi. Garibaldi's exploits in defence of the Roman Republic take up about half of the book's pages, and it is Garibaldi who most symbolises all that is worthy of American help in Italy.56 While Dwight damns Mazzini with faint praise (he ‘has a great heart and is a pure and enthusiastic patriot: but he seems wanting in experience of men and things’), Garibaldi was ‘[w]ell fitted by n
ature to command, he is loved and respected by all who know him’.57 Thus, in Dwight's hands, Garibaldi becomes a kind of allAmerican Protestant hero.58
The daguerreotype of Garibaldi (by the wellknown photographer Marcus Root), reproduced as an engraving for the frontispiece to Dwight's Roman Republic, is strikingly different to previous representations of Garibaldi (see figure 7 below). No trace is left of the red blouse, flowing hair and passionate expression. In the portrait, Garibaldi strikes a quiet, gentlemanly pose, with a tree and rising sun in the background. He is still goodlooking, but now well groomed in a dark doublebreasted coat and neatly tied cravat, with tidy and welltrimmed hair and beard; and he gazes past the viewer with a calm, almost melancholy look in his eyes. Dwight presses this point home to his readers: Garibaldi is humble, honourable and physically attractive, with ‘penetrating eyes, but … mild, gentle and amiable in address and manners, and frank, animated and winning in conversation’. He had an energetic and devoted wife and still has a loving family. He is both brave and steadfast. Garibaldi's ‘bravery, perseverance and success in the service of his country, especially at Rome’ are, for Dwight, ‘equalled only by his decision, equanimity and fortitude during his astonishing retreat after the fall of the city, and the unbroken spirit he still displays after all his sufferings and afflictions.’59
7 Garibaldi in New York c.1851. This portrait shows a drastic change of image from the unconventional figure depicted in figures 2 and 5 above.
None of these attempts at publicity came to anything. In April 1851 Garibaldi left New York for the Pacific Ocean. His friend Carpaneto had finally found a way to buy a ship for Garibaldi, and they sailed together on 28 April for Central America, arriving first in Nicaragua, after which they crossed the Panama isthmus and arrived in Peru in October. From December 1851 to January 1853, nothing more was heard from Garibaldi.60 In late 1851, Mazzini wrote from London asking Garibaldi to lead an expedition to Sicily, but the letters failed to reach him.61 During this time Garibaldi crossed the Pacific with a cargo of guano for Canton, and after a side trip to Manila he returned via Australia and New Zealand to Peru.62Noting his departure from New York, the Tribune wished him ‘success in the new path he has chosen’, and repeated its admiration for his ‘modesty, simplicity and thorough integrity of character … pure patriotism and … unflinching bravery’ as well as for his capacity for ‘humble’ work. Otherwise there was little public interest in his departure. There was not much more interest in his temporary return to the USA in the autumn of 1853, when he arrived in Boston with a cargo of copper from Chile.63
Garibaldi finally left New York for good in November 1853 and returned to Europe. Perhaps because the Piedmontese government had suggested he would be welcome once more on home territory if he agreed not to take part in politics, he travelled again as a merchant seaman, this time as master of a ship with a cargo bound for London and Genoa.64From Boston, shortly before leaving the United States, Garibaldi had written a bitter and emotional letter to his friend, Augusto Vecchi:
What can I say to you about my wandering life, my dear Vecchi? I thought that distance might lessen the bitterness in my soul, but sadly [fatalmente] this is not true, and I have dragged out a tempestuous existence without happiness, and embittered by memories. Yes, I still yearn for the emancipation of our land … although [I am] now worn out and dedicated, so people think, more to the stomach than to the soul, and I shudder at the probable idea that I will never again take up a sword or a gun for Italy.65
He told Cuneo that his physical powers were declining, although he hoped more than ever to die for his country. ‘At one time’, he wrote, ‘I sought the affection of men, today I don't care any more, and if I could remove myself entirely from their company, I would believe myself happy.’66 His main political concern during his last weeks in America was to restore good relations among the quarrelling Italian exiles in New York.67
Garibaldi's stay in New York seems a curiously downbeat episode in a career otherwise dedicated to the pursuit and exploitation of publicity for political ends. Why did he not make more use of the undoubted opportunities which New York had to offer? Some of the reasons were personal. On arrival in New York Garibaldi was crippled with rheumatism, ‘obliged’, in his own words, ‘to disembark … like a package, by means of a swing hoist’.68 He was devastated by the loss of his wife; his main aim, repeated often in his letters, was to keep busy and make money to support his mother and children; and he spoke little or no English. But there were political reasons for his inaction too. He was by his own account disillusioned politically, and his presence in New York, and especially the proposed reception for him, caused controversy. Many of his American supporters feared the involvement of socialists (or ‘Red Republicans’) while the Catholic Church in New York and the powerful Irishman, Bishop Hughes, in particular, were openly hostile to Garibaldi.69 Thus, as had happened in Liguria at the end of the previous year, pressure may well have been put on Garibaldi to decline all public ceremonies in order to avoid public disorder.
It is also worth considering whether Garibaldi's decision to withdraw from public life was not itself part of a strategy, a ‘performance’ – however sincere – designed to attract sympathy and increase support for the Italian cause. His letters at this time, including his public letter to the New York papers, express a clear sense of mourning for his ‘native land’, for his ‘beautiful and oppressed country’, a mourning which is explicitly identified with his own lonely existence as an exile, bereaved and ‘severed’ from his children.70 His 1851 daguerreotype shows a poignant figure in sombre clothes against a dark background, and he made many efforts to identify his personal loss with the greater political loss for Italy. The impression he made on Henry Tuckerman was of a man accompanied by ‘[s]ad memories … a widowed husband, a baffled patriot, an exile from the land for which he had so long toiled and suffered, his limbs racked with chronic pains incident to prolonged exposure; his dearest comrades banished or executed’.71 In terms of ‘staging’ this sorrow for public purposes, it was surely more persuasive to refuse rather than entreat publicity and personal honours.
In order to gauge how effective Garibaldi's performance was, it is useful to compare his experiences in the USA with those of other contemporary political heroes, like Kossuth and Gavazzi, who received such great receptions. Both Kossuth and Gavazzi were fêted at first. However, Kossuth's speeches alienated abolitionists and his barnstorming meetings frightened conservatives. Kossuth was quickly abandoned by his supporters – including Senator Lewis Cass – during a presidential election year and he left the USA, only seven months after his arrival, amid general indifference and ridicule.72 Gavazzi's speeches against the Catholic Church caused great offence; his lecture tour in French Canada led to riots; and even in New York he was eventually condemned for stiring up hatred among different American classes and religions.73 Garibaldi, by contrast, won widespread praise for his ‘modesty’, ‘good sense’, ‘high character’, disinclination for ‘pomp and display’ and willingness to engage – like any other immigrant – in a ‘humble occupation’ as a candle-maker.74 Both Cass and Dwight publicly admired the contrast between Garibaldi's glorious exploits in Rome and the ‘equanimity’ with which he had borne his more recent ‘misfortunes’ and ‘afflictions’. Moreover, all these qualities – modesty, courtesy, steadfastness – were those exalted by contemporaries as necessary virtues in American public life.75 Garibaldi's decision neither to take part in any reception nor to enter the American political arena may well have been deliberate and was certainly fortuitous. In this respect, Garibaldi's real achievement during his stay in the USA was to have left American shores with his reputation intact.
Garibaldi's American exile also marks the moment when he leaves his bandit persona behind him. Arriving in London in 1854, he described America to the Russian exile, Alexander Herzen, as the country of ‘forgetting the fatherland’, and he radically changed his image while in New York.76 The 1851 daguerreoty
pe/engraving of Garibaldi is remarkable for the respectability of his personal appearance. The Garibaldi who returned to Europe in 1854 after his ‘second exile’ was a different figure – older, perhaps sadder and certainly more ‘respectable’ than the youthful romantic, the exotic and picturesque rebel who had fought on the hills above Rome in 1849. A portrait of him in The Northern Tribune shortly after his arrival in England confirms the change in image. An engraving taken from another photograph, it shows Garibaldi in a more aggressive pose than in 1851, gazing more firmly beyond the horizon, but the dark coat remains, as does the tidier hair, as proof of his new, more respectable social status and his gentlemanly qualities.77
As a political move, the change of image turned out not to be a bad one. During his years away a great deal had altered on the European political scene, and the Italian question had itself changed dramatically. A series of political compromises in the aftermath of the 1848–9 revolutions, together with an ongoing ‘revolution’ in literacy, publishing and the process of politicisation, opened up new and different prospects for Garibaldi. Refusing public honours in New York in 1850, he had said that he preferred to wait for ‘a more favourable opportunity for the redemption of my country from foreign and domestic oppression’. The nature and effect of this opportunity, and the use which Garibaldi would make of it, became clear after he returned to Europe.