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Updated: June 8, 2025
At the end of October Montanelli returned to his see in the Romagna, and, before leaving Florence, preached a farewell sermon in which he spoke of the controversy, gently deprecating the vehemence of both writers and begging his unknown defender to set an example of tolerance by closing a useless and unseemly war of words.
Montanelli took my hands and said to me, "Right will conquer. You will conquer. Oh! that this time France may not be selfish as in 1848, and that she may deliver Italy." I answered him, "She will deliver Europe." Those were our illusions at that moment, but this, however, does not prevent them from being our hopes to-day. Faith is thus constituted; shadows demonstrate to it the light.
On the 29th the Austrians, in overwhelming numbers, bore down upon the 6000 Tuscans at Montanara and Curtatone, and defeated them after a resistance of six hours. The Tuscan professor, Giuseppe Montanelli, fell severely wounded while holding the dead body of his favourite pupil, but he recovered to show less discretion in politics than he had shown valour in the field.
I knelt down and waited all night. And in the morning when I came to my senses Padre, it isn't any use; I can't explain. I can't tell you what I saw I hardly know myself. But I know that God has answered me, and that I dare not disobey Him." For a moment they sat quite silent in the darkness. Then Montanelli turned and laid his hand on Arthur's shoulder.
But the Vatican " "The Vatican will find someone else. I can send apologies." "But why? I can't understand." Montanelli drew one hand across his forehead. "I am anxious about you. Things keep coming into my head and after all, there is no need for me to go " "But the bishopric " "Oh, Arthur! what shall it profit me if I gain a bishopric and lose " He broke off.
Had he not said: "A year and a half " Where did he get those blue eyes from, and that nervous restlessness of the fingers? And why was he so bitter against Montanelli? Five years five years If she could but know that he was drowned if she could but have seen the body; some day, surely, the old wound would have left off aching, the old memory would have lost its terrors.
The Gadfly was hardly recognizable; he was beside himself with rage and desperation, panting and quivering, his eyes glittering with green reflections like the eyes of an angry cat. Montanelli had risen, and was looking down at him silently.
There is no trace of heart-disease that he can find to account for the thing; but whatever is the matter with him, it is something that must have come on suddenly, just when he had nearly managed to escape. For my part, I believe he was struck down by the direct intervention of a merciful Providence." Montanelli frowned slightly. "What are you going to do with him?" he asked.
Go to Rome, and ask the blessing of His minister, the Holy Father. Peace be with you!" The Gadfly bent his head to receive the benediction, and turned slowly away. "Stop!" said Montanelli. He was standing with one hand on the chancel rail. "When you receive the Holy Eucharist in Rome," he said, "pray for one in deep affliction for one on whose soul the hand of the Lord is heavy."
You can't expect anyone to respect laws after the Holy Father has opened the prisons and turned the whole crew of Liberal scamps loose on us! It's a positive infatuation! Of course Monsignor Montanelli will give himself airs; he was quiet enough under His Holiness the late Pope, but he's cock of the walk now. He has jumped into favour all at once and can do as he pleases. How am I to oppose him?
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