ame of which Victor Emmanuel
would one day say that 'it filled the furthest ends of the earth.'

Profitable to Italy, over nearly every page of whose recent history
might be written 'out of evil cometh forth good,' was the banishment
which threw Garibaldi into his romantic career of the next twelve
years between the Amazon and the Plata. Soldier of fortune who did not
seek to enrich himself; soldier of freedom who never aimed at power,
he always meant to turn to account for his own country the experience
gained in the art of war in that distant land, where he rapidly became
the centre of a legend, almost the origin of a myth. Antique in
simplicity, singleness, superabundance of life, and in a sort of
naturalism which is not of to-day; unselfconscious, trustful in
others, forgiving, incapable of fear, abounding in compassion,
Garibaldi's true place is not in the aggregation of facts which we
call history, but in the apotheosis of character which we call the
_Iliad_, the _Mahabharata_, the _Edda_, the cycles of Arthur and of
Roland, and the _Romancero del Cid_.

In childhood he rescued a drowning washerwoman; in youth he nursed men
dying of cholera; as a veteran soldier he passed the night among the
rocks of Caprera hunting for a lamb that was lost. No amount of habit
could remove the repugnance he felt at uttering the word 'fire.' Yet
this gentle warrior, when his career was closed and he lay chained to
his bed of pain, endorsed his memoirs with the Spanish motto: 'La
guerra es la verdadera vida del hombre.' War was the veritable life of
Garibaldi; war, not conspiracy; war, not politics; war, not, alas!
model farming, for which the old chief fancied in his later years that
he had discovered in himself a vocation.

Riding the wild horses and chasing the wild cattle of the Pampas, his
eyes covering the immense spaces untrodden by man, this corsair of
five-and-twenty drank deep of the innocent pleasures of untamed
nature, when not occupied in fighting by land or sea, with equal
fortune; or rather, perhaps, with greater fortune and greater proof of
inborn genius as commander of the naval campaign of the Paran[=a] than
as defender of Monte Video. No adventures were wanting to him; he was
even imprisoned and tortured. In South America he found the one woman
worthy to bear his name, the lion-hearted Anita, whom he carried off,
she consenting, from her father and the man to whom her father had
betrothed her. Garibaldi in afte