When our sportsman had gone, Garibaldi took me by the arm and hobbled up and down with me on the path which made a sort of quarterdeck in front of the house. He talked a great deal about England, for which he entertained a sincere admiration and affection. He asked many questions about the various people whom he had known there—questions which he felt that he could put to me more discreetly than to the Duke, for many of his friends had been among the Duke’s nearest relations—his mother, his brothers and sisters. Suddenly he turned round and said: “Is it true—is it possible that it can be true—that there are actually in England people who are desirous of abolishing the existing order of things and setting up a republic in the place of your monarchy?” I said that there certainly were a few people who seemed to think that to do away with the monarchy and the aristocracy and to set up a republic was the panacea for all human ills. “They must be fools!” he said, and then went on very earnestly: “Why, in England you have the finest form of government in the world—a republic of which the President rules by the will of the people, and being hereditary depends upon no political cry of the moment. With you by virtue of this hereditary principle there is not the continual danger of someone saying ‘Ôte-toi de là que je m’y mette’—and so no perpetual risk of upheavals. I only wish that I could see Italy blessed with such a republic; then I should be quite content.” I thought this speech, coming from the man who was pointed at as the incarnation of rebellion and anarchy, not a little remarkable. I can hear him uttering it now, and can see the eager, beautiful eyes looking through and through me as he spoke. Whatever Garibaldi said struck home, he was so obviously and entirely sincere; his voice was the voice of truth. We were talking in this way for a couple of hours or more, and after the lapse of more than forty years, some of his very words are yet ringing in my ears. England and Italy were the subjects upon which he so fondly dwelt. He spoke much of the unification of Italy, of Italia irredenta, and very modestly, very reticently, of the part which he had played. He said: “There are many people who will tell you that Italy as she now is was the work of Victor Emmanuel and Cavour, others give the credit to Louis Napoléon, some even ascribe it to me. The truth is that no one man, no two men, can claim the merit. We all of us had a hand in it, we did our best and we succeeded.”