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THE LIFE OF SIR ANTHONY PANIZZI, K.C.B.

VOL. I.

PUBLISHERS’ NOTE.

The third volume by Mr. Henry Stevens, mentioned on the title-page, is in preparation, and will probably be issued some time this year. It will be sold separately or with the two volumes of Mr. Fagan, as purchasers may desire.

THE

LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE

OF

Sir ANTHONY PANIZZI KCB

LATE PRINCIPAL LIBRARIAN OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM

SENATOR OF ITALY ETC

By Louis Fagan

OF THE DEPARTMENT OF PRINTS AND DRAWINGS BRITISH MUSEUM

In Two Volumes

AUTHORISED AMERICAN EDITION

TO WHICH IS APPENDED A THIRD VOLUME CONTAINING

TWENTY YEARS PERSONAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL REMINISCENCES OF

PANIZZI AND THE BRITISH MUSEUM

1845-1865

By Henry Stevens of Vermont Fsa Ma Etc

Bibliography The Tree of Knowledge

Volume I

BOSTON: HOUGHTON MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
RIVERSIDE CAMBRIDGE & ASTOR PLACE NEW-YORK

MdcccLxxxi

The Reminiscences Copyright 1881

by Henry Stevens of Vermont

All rights reserved

THE

LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE

OF

SIR ANTHONY PANIZZI KCB

ADVERTISEMENT

To the American Edition

Reform Club, Pall Mall, sw

London, 15th October, 1880

My dear Sir,

Well knowing that Sir Anthony Panizzi entrusted most of his literary articles and reviews to you for re-publication in America under your editorship; and aware that he gladly availed himself of your co-operation in adding to the store of American history and literature in the British Museum, I feel that your assistance will be of great advantage in promoting an American edition of my work.

The addition of your ‘Twenty years personal and bibliographical Reminiscences of Panizzi and the British Museum’ cannot but add interest to the new edition, hence I heartily coincide with and approve the suggestion, in full expectation that your long experience and special opportunities will have enabled you to throw still more light on the labours of a life and the merits of an institution which cannot be too well-known everywhere.

Trusting that our combined work will be as cordially received in your country as Americans always were by Panizzi at the British Museum,

I remain, my dear Sir, yours very truly,

Louis Fagan

To Henry Stevens, Esquire of Vermont, F S A ETC

4, Trafalgar Square, Charing Cross, London.

PREFACE.

The first chapter of these Volumes discloses the reasons which induced me to undertake the present Biography—a task amounting to a labour of love, owing to the personal interest I have felt in it from beginning to end. How far, however, I may succeed in satisfying my Readers—fully conscious as I am of my own demerits and the many defects to be met with—I leave them to decide, trusting to their kind indulgence not to be hypercritical in their verdict on my faithful endeavour to perform my duty both to them and to the subject of these memoirs.

Some delay has arisen in the completion of the work, to be attributed to three causes: the interruption occasioned by my official duties, the variety and complicated nature of the subject, and the numerous translations required for the full development of the life I desired to treat with justice in every respect.

Grateful acknowledgments are due for the valuable assistance received from Mr. Charles Cannon of the Foreign Office, Mr. Richard Garnett of the British Museum, Mr. C. E. Fagan and from Mr. C. M. Tyndall, to whom I am deeply indebted. Certainly in no less degree must I record, with sincere thanks, the cheerful and graceful aid rendered me by Madame Arditi, who has, throughout my labours, proved a most encouraging and able coadjutrix.

The respectful expression of my gratitude to the Duke D’Aumale and to the Right Honourable W. E. Gladstone is an honourable duty, since to them as well as to Mrs. Franklin, Sir Gilbert Lewis, Sir James Lacaita, Mr. C. T. Newton, Mr. Andrew Rutherfurd and the late Mr. Edward Ellice I am indebted for the loan of letters, etc., without which my work could never have attained the degree of completeness of which it may fairly boast. Finally, in the list should also be named those who have helped me to present these volumes in their finished state—MM. Durand, Pilotell, Sem and F. Gusman, to whose courtesy I owe six of the portraits interspersed within these pages.

To men of letters throughout the civilized world I can scarcely doubt that a biography of one so well-known in his particular and important sphere as was the earnest worker of whom I have written should be otherwise than acceptable. Nevertheless, it is with some anxiety that I lay my venture before the public, though trusting at the same time that no serious drawback in the accomplishment of my labours may prevent a just appreciation of them by all considerate readers.

Louis Fagan.

2a, Granville Place,

Portman Square, W.

September, 1880.

CONTENTS.

ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOL. I.

THE LIFE OF SIR ANTHONY PANIZZI

CHAPTER I

Introduction; History of Brescello; Birth; Parentage; Education Carbonaro; Piedmontese and Neapolitan Revolutions, 1820-1; I Processi di Rubiera.

The labour attached to the biographer’s task depends on the amount and quality of incident in the career, as well as the peculiar characteristics of the person whose life is portrayed, provided there be a sufficiency of salient points in these respects to have made him conspicuous in the eyes of the world. It would be difficult, both to writer and reader, to follow the career of a conventional country gentleman or clergyman, however diligently and conscientiously either might have discharged the duties alloted to him in his particular sphere. The life of the Curé of Ars, however, although in reality as much hidden from the public eye as that of the most ordinary squire or parson, must ever be reckoned, if only for the psychological study it presents, amongst the most interesting and, from certain points of view, the most instructive of biographies.

The subject of the following “Memoirs,” so far as regards the two points above mentioned, would seem to offer most favourable conditions for the pen of the biographer; nevertheless, the writer confesses that the very facility presented has caused difficulties to spring up in his way. Though utterly a novice in such work, an ardent longing has possessed him to write of one with whom he lived for twenty years on terms of the most intimate friendship, little, if at all, inferior in warmth to consanguineous affection. He has deemed it his duty, after duly weighing the many communications received from his friend in hours of confidential intercourse, and regarding them as illustrative not only of the life of the man himself, but in their wider sense as pertaining to contemporary history, and elucidating the opinions of the great statesmen and other notable individuals with whom the subject of this memoir was in daily intercourse—to show forth his life to the world, calling to aid personal memories of the events recorded, original documents in the writer’s own possession or those he could obtain from others, besides information given orally by friends.

That life, chequered even at the outset by struggle and adventure, devoted to incessant activity, and bound up, as it were, with all the stirring public events of the most active period of our age, being of necessity gathered from documents so voluminous as to constitute a veritable “embarras de richesses”—a plethora of material—the mere task of condensation and selection has proved a formidable one; whilst the arrangement of facts following closely on one another has presented at times considerable difficulty.

Other causes have stimulated the biographer in his work, inasmuch as he himself was not unconcerned in some of the more important and exciting events of the life which he records. The struggles of oppressed nationalities, the numerous revolutions and changes of dynasty, the intrigues of politicians throughout Europe, the face of which may be said to have been changed during the middle of this century, the varied events at home, and the vicissitudes of the country which his friend had adopted for his own, and for which he evinced unswerving affection and fidelity, have supplied matter which must be treated at some length in order to depict his life in its true light, and to represent adequately the motive power which prompted his ways and actions.

These matters may be but feebly and imperfectly shadowed forth here, and scant justice may possibly have been done to the varied details; nevertheless, these pages will be recognised as an earnest endeavour to sketch the life of a meritorious, able, and—it might without exaggeration be added—in his way a great man.

Where events follow their forerunners with extreme rapidity, where it is sometimes necessary to record circumstances which are simultaneous, it requires the greatest care and discrimination to avoid confusion, and to present the subject clearly to the reader’s mind. The utmost pains have been taken in these volumes to maintain correct chronological order: dates are almost always given, so that no doubt shall arise and no uncertainty exist as to the time of action. Should quotations appear at any time too copious or prolix, the author asks the indulgent reader to impute this to his idea of the importance of perspicuity in dealing with an intricate subject.

With these remarks we enter upon our arduous but pleasant task, with a profoundly sincere hope that from a life of so much energy and perseverance, our readers may extract for themselves an example worthy of admiration and imitation.

Men have not lived in vain when, either by indomitable spirit they have left behind encouragement for their fellow-men to enter as keenly as themselves into the battle of life, or have proved in their own persons how strict integrity and undeviating rectitude finally bring their reward; and such an example, we venture to declare, was the subject of this memoir.

In the territory of Modena, on the right bank of the River Po, stands an ancient town formerly called Brixellum or Brexillum, hodie Brescello. Father Bardetti (Lingua dei primi abitatori d’Italia) informs us that the name of “Brescello” is derived from the remote Gallo-Germanic words Brig, a bridge, and sella, to observe. With all due respect to the learned father, to his skill in philology, and to his knowledge of the Gallo-Germanic dialect, our opinion is that the names Brixellum and Brescello are simply the common diminutives of Brixia and Brescia respectively, a town not one hundred miles from Brescello.

However that may be, it is certain that Brescello is a place of most respectable antiquity, for according to Pliny the younger it was a Roman colony, founded during the period of the Republic. It is equally certain that Brescello has, from the time of its foundation, undergone as many of the vicissitudes of fortune, and suffered as much from the horrors of war, as many towns of far greater size and importance in the eyes of the world. A brief notice of its history will, however, cause our readers to marvel, not so much at the ruin and destruction which has fallen with such persistent recurrence upon Brescello as at the almost miraculous power possessed by this phœnix among cities of straightway rising again from its own ashes.

The first event of local historical importance which strikes us is the suicide (A.D. 69) of the Emperor Otho, which took place while he was encamped here, on receiving the news of the total defeat of his army by Vitellius. A tomb erected in the town to the memory of the unfortunate Emperor, for whom we have always entertained a certain amount of sympathy, possibly arising in a great measure from our contempt of his rival, is mentioned by Plutarch as having been seen by himself.

From A.D. 69 to A.D. 388 nothing is known of the history of Brescello. This interval, however, seems to have been one rather of obscurity than of quiet; for the name next occurs in a letter of St. Ambrose, of the last-mentioned date, wherein he speaks of the place as amongst one of the many ruined cities, and ranks it with the equally oppressed towns of Bologna, Modena, Reggio, and Piacenza. It may be conjectured that by the year 452 Brescello must have been wholly rebuilt; for in a letter of Eusebius to Leo I. (St. Leo), commencing “Ciprianus Episcopus Ecclesie Brixellensis,” it is stated that the town not only gave name to a see, but was the dwelling place of a bishop.

In the troubled times of the Longobardi it was destroyed by King Autharis, circa. A.D. 585, but even then gave promise of future vitality; for again it was rebuilt, and a monastery existed there in the tenth century. In the year 1099, for the first time, the Castle of Brescello comes to our knowledge, with the addition of fortifications to the town.

It is needless to follow the fortunes of Brescello throughout the wars between the Cremonese and Parmese, of the many horrors of which, and notably those which occurred in the year 1121, it was the scene. The following brief statement of facts will probably supply as much of the history of this much-suffering place as may be desired.

In 1247, while Frederick II. Emperor of Germany was besieging Parma, his ally Ezzellino IV., the Tyrant, took possession of Brescello and Guastalla, in order to deprive the inhabitants of Parma of all means of subsistence, and thus reduce them to submission by famine. During this campaign the first-named town was partially destroyed; but Frederick and Ezzellino made up to a considerable extent for the damage inflicted on the Brescellese by building for them a bridge over the Po.

The Parmese, always the bitter foes of Frederick, retook Brescello two years later—i.e., in the year 1249—and erected important fortifications, which, however, were destroyed in 1251 by the Cremonese, under the leadership of Uberto Pallavicino.

Peace was declared two years afterwards, and the conquered town became a portion of Parmese territory. A congress took place here between the Parmese and the Cremonese in 1295, and in 1303 Giberto of Correggio was made Lord of Brescello. This nobleman at once fortified his new possession so strongly that the Cremonese, after a most furious attack, were obliged to beat a hasty retreat. A second bridge was constructed during the same year, but it was soon destroyed by the strong currents of the river.

Twelve months had hardly elapsed when the Cremonese, undaunted by their previous defeat, again attacked Brescello, and this time with such success that the town was set on fire and utterly destroyed; only, however, to be rebuilt by the determined citizens, who soon afterwards were under the dominion of the Marquis Obizzo III., of Este, at whose death, in 1352, the government of the town passed into the hands of the Visconti, and continued so up to 1421. In 1425 the Venetians took possession of Brescello, and held it until 1432, when it was captured by the Duke of Milan, who, in the years 1442-3, gave it to Erasmo Trivulzio.

In 1479 Brescello passed into the possession of the Duke Galeazzo Maria, Ercole I., and in 1512 and 1551 was under the yoke of foreign troops. In 1552, Ercole II., re-fortified the town with very strong forts, which were, however, totally destroyed in 1704 by Gallispani.

Here, on the 16th September, 1797, was born the subject of our memoir, Antonio Genesio Maria Panizzi; a great portion of whose chequered life seemed, in its changes and chances, to reflect the early fortunes of his birth-place.

The similarity in the unsettled state of both is striking, and it is a source of gratification to watch, how, in progress of time, Panizzi was enabled to surmount misfortune, and, freed from private as well as political trouble, to end his life in assured peace and security. His father, Luigi Panizzi, was the son of Dottor Antonio Panizzi, a lawyer. His mother, Caterina Gruppi, was descended from a respectable line of ancestors, many of whom had earned for themselves honourable distinction chiefly in the profession of the law.

At an early age Antonio Panizzi was sent to a school of the better class at Reggio, where he was placed under the care of the Abbate Fratuzzi, Professor of Rhetoric and Director of the Lyceum, with whom, as stated by a contemporary, Dr. Zatti, he soon became a special favourite. Of this school Panizzi seems always to have cherished happy memories, and the author remembers hearing him narrate a rather amusing incident of his school-days.

This anecdote is presented to our readers with some apology, and with the recommendation, after the manner of facetious novelists when about to introduce a more than ordinarily racy chapter, to use their own discretion as to its perusal.

It is the custom at schools in Italy, even at the present day, for one of the pupils to be chosen to serve at mass. For this office the Abbate Fratuzzi on one occasion selected Panizzi. It so happened that the priest was administering the sacrament to a man, whose head was of conspicuous uncleanliness, and was uttering the usual sentence, “Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vitam æternam.” Young Antonio, interrupting the priest at the word “custodiat,” murmured to himself “pediculos tuos,” then looked at the priest, who omitting the “animam,” in a great hurry concluded the sentence, perhaps unconsciously, “in vitam æternam. Amen.”

Surely never yet had man and his tormentors in combination so rich a blessing invoked on them.

Having finished his first course of studies at the Lyceum, early in the year 1814 Panizzi entered the University of Parma, where he kept the terms necessary to qualify him for the legal profession. In August, 1818, he obtained the Baccalaureat, with the title of “Dottor” Panizzi. The original certificate conferring this degree was taken away from him when subsequently he became involved in political troubles; but a second fully certified copy was sent to him on the 22nd of May, 1827, most probably at his own request, for about this period there was a possibility of his appointment to the chair of Italian professor at the London University.

As every detail is important to our subject, it may be mentioned here that, within a month of his obtaining his degree, he was attacked so violently by typhoid fever, that his life was for awhile despaired of.

It was Panizzi’s good fortune at this time to stand on the best possible terms with the ruler of his State, Francis IV. Duke of Modena, who esteemed the young man so highly as to appoint him, though still a mere youth, to the office of Inspector of Public Schools at Brescello. This office he seems to have discharged with more than common industry and conscientiousness, bestowing on every detail, whether of management or expenditure, the most careful supervision. For the favour with which the Duke regarded him, he was indebted to an intimacy existing between Francis IV. and the Advocate Cocchi, with whom Panizzi acted as a sort of legal partner, and whom he constantly assisted in the various causes before the Tribunal at Reggio.

One who knew Panizzi about that time, thus describes his personal appearance: tall, thin, and of dark complexion; in temper somewhat hot and hasty, but of calm and even judgment, which commanded respect and caused him to be looked up to by all. He must have been most diligent in his pursuit of knowledge, losing no opportunity of study, for he is described as constantly engaged in reading, even while walking from his house to the office.

As regards his professional reputation, he may be said to have certainly occupied more than an average position, both as counsel and as a legal authority. His powers of eloquence were of no mean order; they were especially conspicuous in a law suit, in which he was engaged for the defence, and was opposed by the celebrated advocate Tizioni, well-known as a most formidable, and (as was said) unscrupulous opponent.

It was about this period that the political condition of Italy began to engage, and shortly afterwards to absorb his attention; and, in this place, it will be best to notice a charge, openly brought against Panizzi, that he was a Carbonaro. The truth of this assertion must be at once and freely admitted; for although no one ever heard him confess it in England, nor is there in his book “Processi di Rubiera,” of which more hereafter, any allusion to his having been of the Association, yet it is indisputable that he was not only a Carbonaro, but one of the most active members of that Society. We have it on the evidence of Doctor Minzi (one of his greatest friends), that in the month of January, 1821, he, Dr. Minzi, and an ex-captain of the Napoleonic army were admitted by Panizzi as members of the Society, that such admission took place in Panizzi’s own bedroom, and that he himself had then been a member since the month of March, 1820.

In this country all secret Societies are apt to be regarded—to use the mildest term—with disfavour. It is true that ridicule attaches to the general denunciation of Freemasonry indulged in by the Roman Catholic Church; for, except that the manner of creating a Freemason, and the sacred signs by which he may hereafter be known, are kept in darkness from the profane world, the Institution itself is about as much a secret society as a London club; there is, however, unfortunately, in a portion of these realms a dark and dangerous organisation,[^[A]] unjustifiable, we conceive, as regards its purpose, and unscrupulous as to the means which it employs to carry out its designs. From the condition of this conspiracy, and of the country where it is carried on, we are doing an injustice to other and widely different nations to judge of the causes from which their societies spring by the same standard; for, let us frankly and impartially put ourselves in the place of some at least of these, and we may possibly find a sort of exculpation if not a justification even of the Carbonaro.

[A]. “Ribbonism” a society organised in Ireland about 1820, to retaliate on landlords any injuries done to their tenants, not scrupling even at assassination. An Act was passed to suppress it, 16th June, 1871.

Where the law is so weak that justice cannot be obtained at its hands, some other organisation will naturally be resorted to for the protection of life and property, and this organisation being beyond, and therefore to a certain extent antagonistic to the law as existing, or at least as administered at the time, must, if it would be effectual, be secret. No peaceful and well-conducted inhabitants of certain cities in the Far West, have yet, to our knowledge been heard to complain of the existence or action of that most terrible of Vehmgerichte, the “Vigilance” Committee. Where, on the other hand, despotism, uncontrolled by law, exercises an uncertain and galling tyranny, or being acquiesced in by the majority, reduces sovereign and subjects to the lowest moral and intellectual, and it might almost be added physical level, whatever there is of life and spirit in a nation will be forced into some plan of action for the preservation both of itself and the country; and this action will of necessity be secret.

Conditions such as these existing, as will be hereafter seen, in Panizzi’s own country, may fairly be alleged as an excuse—if excuse be needed—for his complicity with Carbonarism.

It is not brought forward as a further justification, but simply adduced as a fact, that such distinguished and eminent men, as Silvio Pellico, and the Principe della Cisterna, are known to have been deeply imbued with Carbonarism, and the late Emperor Napoleon III. was among the number of those accused of taking an active interest in the doings of this society.

Into the condition of Italy at the time of which we are writing it is unnecessary to enter as yet. Suffice it to say that the restraints upon personal liberty and the despotic conduct of the ruling powers aroused the spirit of Panizzi, and he longed to liberate his country; ardent patriot as he was, it seemed to him that freedom could only be secured by the expulsion, in the first place, of certain persons whom he deemed tyrants. With a view of bringing about this result, he thought it necessary to belong to a sect, or secret society, whose predominant ideas were—to free Italy, to unite her several States, and to expel the “stranger.”

In order that the reader may not be misled in any way in judging of the early political principles of Antonio Panizzi, it will be well to give in this place a short account of the source whence Carbonarism sprung, of its original purpose, and of the more ambitious aims which it in aftertimes developed. Let it be first of all clearly understood that the Carbonari of 1820 had nothing in common with the Communists of the present day.

The Italian society of Carbonari dates from the period of the French Revolution (1790); it’s name was derived from that of a similar association which had existed in Germany from a very early period. The necessity of affording aid to one another induced the charcoal-burners who inhabited the vast forests of Germany to unite against robbers and enemies.

By conventional signs, known only to themselves, they claimed and afforded mutual assistance. The criminal attempt of Conrad de Kauffungen (executed 14th July, 1455), to carry off the Saxon princes, failed through the intervention of the charcoal-burners; and, at a more recent period, a Duke of Wurtemberg was compelled by them, under threat of death, to abolish certain forest laws, considered offensive and cruel. This association gradually acquired more consistency, and spread itself all over Germany, France, and the Netherlands—the oath its members took being called “the faith of colliers or charcoal-burners.” It is asserted that several members of the French Parliaments were enrolled in its ranks in the years 1770-1790, and it may be remarked, en passant“$2”$3, that in France there had long existed, in the department of the Jura, an association known as the “Charbonniers” or “Bucherons,” and that amongst its members it was known as “Le Bon Cusinage.” This society was revived and brought into activity by the Marquis de Champagne, in the reign of Napoleon I.

But it is Italy which claims our immediate attention, and in treating of the rise and progress of Carbonarism in that country a somewhat remarkable personage must be introduced—no other, in fact, than he to whom Carbonarism owed its existence. This was one Maghella, a Genoese of low extraction, who had risen from the position of clerk in a counting-house to that of minister of police in the Ligurian Republic. He was in high favour with Murat, who had made his acquaintance during the French campaign in Piedmont.

Shortly after Murat had succeeded Joseph Bonaparte on the throne of Naples he sent for Maghella, and in course of time made him minister of police. It may be a matter of question whether or no the king found in his newly appointed officer the best of counsellors or the most faithful of friends. Maghella was actuated by two feelings of equal intensity—hatred of Napoleon and a desire for the independence of Italy. With these views he took upon himself to urge on Murat not only that he should refuse to join in the campaign now (1812) projected by Bonaparte against Russia, but should openly declare himself against the Emperor. How Murat received this advice, which, proffered from such a quarter to such a man, appears to us now to betoken madness, there is no record to show. As he shortly afterwards appeared in the field as general of Napoleon’s cavalry, his proper sphere, it is pretty plain that he did not adopt it.

The unfortunate termination of the Russian expedition, and the complete disaster which befel the French army therein, gave fresh encouragement to Maghella to carry out his patriotic schemes. Now, he conceived, there was a golden opportunity for driving the French troops out of Rome, Tuscany, and Genoa, and for placing himself at the head of the insurrectionist party. In this, as is well known, he signally failed. That the occasion he took for the accomplishment of his project was not, however, so ill-timed as might generally have been supposed, is proved by the subsequent revolution at Milan, which broke out on the 20th April, 1814, and which showed that the government of Eugène de Beauharnais was much less stable than had been fondly imagined.

Although Maghella’s plans had thus failed, he still had means at command to employ for the benefit of his enslaved and distracted country. Of these the society of Carbonari presented the readiest; and he accordingly set himself to work to introduce the association into Naples. In this he was successful, and a duly constituted branch of the institution was established there by his efforts; the object aimed at being stated, in express terms, to be the liberation of Italy from a foreign yoke. That qualification of character was required for admission into the ranks of the Neapolitan league appears from the following extract from their rules:—“General doctrine of the order.” Article 4. “Tried virtue and purity of morals, and not Pagan qualities, render men worthy of belonging to the Carbonari.” Although the ordinary Neapolitan Carbonaro might possibly have failed to fulfil these rather severe conditions, yet we do not believe, still less is there any evidence to prove, that the Carbonari of Naples in general were animated by any less worthy motive than by a thoroughly sincere, if not very enlightened, spirit of patriotism.

It cannot, however, be denied that whatever may be said of these new Southern Members of the Society, the men of Northern Italy, who in 1819 and subsequent years joined in considerable numbers, were of a class vastly superior, so far as regards social standing, culture, and education, energy and decision of character, to their confrères of the South—and amongst the Northern Italian associates was Antonio Panizzi.

By 1820 Carbonarism had spread all over the Peninsula; it could scarcely be called any longer a secret society. There were head centres in almost every town. It had reached a numerical strength far above that of any other society, and it is hardly too much to say that, by this time, it had made itself respected as the expression of a national idea.

The system had, as will have been seen, now developed itself into something very different from, and, to the various rulers of divided Italy, far more formidable than the innocent convention for mutual support and defence of the German charcoal-burners. It is not, therefore, under the circumstances, surprising that certain people outside the pale of the society, though we can hardly suppose them altogether ignorant of its professed objects, should have come to regard it with a vague and uneasy feeling of fear and aversion. In the Lombardo-Venetian Kingdom, as it was then styled, His Majesty the Emperor of Austria had, in August, 1820, issued a decree against the Carbonari, which, after accusing them of high treason, went on to declare that “The precise object of the Carbonari is the subversion and destruction of all governments.” Now, with whatever danger to the Austrian Government the organization might have been suspected to be fraught, and it must be readily granted that there were grounds for such suspicion, the foregoing universal proposition presents a remarkable variation from the truth. The aim of the Carbonari was, it is true, to liberate their country from the yoke of the foreigner, but there cannot be a doubt that it pointed in an equally direct degree to the unification of Italy, or at the least to a confederation of her several States under Italian government or presidency.

Having thus endeavoured to trace the origin, growth, and aim of Carbonarism, it behoves us to consider how it affected the state of Naples, what was the condition of that place at the time of its introduction, and what were its immediate and subsequent results. To do this it will now be necessary to recapitulate the events of the memorable years 1820 and 1821.

Whilst the secret societies and the people united in endeavouring to upset the existing state of affairs, the government of Naples, utterly unconscious of all danger, continued its arbitrary career. Such, indeed, was its feeling of security, that it had the amazing stupidity to imprison any person, who from excess of zeal or mistaken patriotism gave intimation of approaching danger. Danger there was, however, and in 1820 the revolution broke out in Naples. Two months afterwards a similar revolution, caused by the obstinacy and arbitrary acts of Ferdinand VII. of Spain, occurred at Cadiz. All Europe greeted these movements with applause. The Neapolitans, more eager and more active than the others, obtained their political reforms at the cost of but little bloodshed, and no public injury; had the revolution presented itself with its usual accompaniments of risk and disaster, the Carbonari, and, indeed, the Liberals, would not have felt inclined to proceed. Never was there greater excitement amongst the former, and never did their numbers and strength increase so rapidly.

Thus encouraged they made essay of their strength on the ranks of the regular army, and were fortunate enough to be able to add to their Society no inconsiderable number of associates, both of the rank and file, and of officers.

The Government was completely taken by surprise. Calabria, Capitanata, and Salerno issued various proclamations, whilst the army joined the Carbonari against King Ferdinand I.

One morning five Carbonari, the most distinguished of the sect, entered the royal palace, announcing that they came in the name of the people, and that they desired to speak with the King or some high authority of the Court. Whereupon the Duke d’Ascoli presented himself, and was informed by one of the delegates in unmistakable words that tranquility could not be preserved in the city unless the King granted the constitution demanded. On the 6th of July, 1820, Ferdinand was compelled to issue an edict “To the Nation of the Two Sicilies,” in which he solemnly promised to “publish the basis of the constitution within eight days’ time.” New ministers were appointed, and shortly afterwards a document appeared stating that the King had resigned the royal authority to his son. The people suspected this to be a stratagem, and insisted on the establishment of the “Cortes” at once. The Viceroy Francis was induced to publish a decree declaring that the constitution of the Two Sicilies should be the same as that adopted in Spain in 1812. Thus the Government was constituted on its new basis amid general approbation.

In Palermo, however, a rebellion had broken out which forced the King to send 2,000 soldiers to reduce the town to obedience. Emboldened by his success over the Sicilian rebels, he now fancied himself safe, and forthwith entered upon extreme measures. A general disarmament of the civil population commenced, death being the sentence of all found in secret possession of arms. The liberal-minded monarch further proceeded to prohibit or suspend the action of all public schools, universities, and lyceums, and to disband the militia.

Such was the wretched state of Naples, when premonitory and alarming symptoms of disaffection appeared in the north. On the 11th of January, 1821, a band of young men, wearing the red cap of liberty, appeared at the theatre of the Ardennes, in the district of Novara, and raised a tumult. This ebullition of enthusiasm was put down by the troops on guard at Turin; but the revolutionary spirit was checked only for the moment, and soon broke out again supported by men of wealth and influence. In the month of February, on the representation of the Austrian Ministry, the revolutionary party was publicly accused of conspiring to expel the Austrians from Italy. On this charge, which might possibly be true enough, many men of noble birth and of the highest social position, were imprisoned in the citadel of Finistrello. This was the signal for a general rising. Officers and statesmen joined the revolutionists, and, according to Santorre Santa-Rosa, even the heir-apparent, Charles Albert, Prince of Carignano, was no stranger to the intrigues that were going on.

On the morning of the 4th of March symptoms of revolt appeared in some regiments stationed near Vercelli; but they were speedily suppressed by the soldiers who remained faithful to the royal cause.

On the 10th of March the Spanish constitution was publicly proclaimed at Alessandria. As soon as the news of this gain to the cause became known throughout Italy, great were the rejoicings of the Carbonari, and loud and frequent the shouts of “Viva il Re! Viva La Costituzione!” A cavalry regiment was raised and stationed on the heights of Carmagnuolo, under the command of Captain Lisio, the soldiers shouting, “Death to the Austrians!” Turin, abandoned by its governor, was occupied amid the acclamations of the people and many of the soldiers.

The King all this time was at his château of Moncaliere; but on hearing of the events above described at once hastened to the capital. His first impulse was to put himself at the head of his troops and attack Alessandria; but he was forced to relinquish this enterprise owing to the unfaithfulness of his soldiers. Thus baffled, he attempted, as a sort of half measure, a proclamation of the French constitution. But it was too late—the insurgents had gained the upper hand. As a last resource, the King sent the Prince of Carignano to the revolutionists in order to ascertain their demands. The prince was received with respect and military honours, accompanied by shouts of “Viva la Costituzione di Spagna!” He was told that war with Austria was desired. The King, on hearing this, rather than give way, abdicated in favour of his heir.

On the 13th the royal family left Turin and set out for Nice, and a proclamation was issued that the Prince of Carignano had been appointed regent of the realm. He was soon afterwards installed in full sovereignty, and the constitution of Spain proclaimed.

We may be permitted in closing this necessarily very short sketch of the two revolutions, to quote a passage from that most amusing but slightly erratic writer, Lady Morgan, on the subject of the Piedmontese Revolution:—“Had this revolution not been disturbed by the unprincipled interference of foreign nations it would have led to the happiest consequences. What is to be said of a Government which reduces the great majority of the people to a slavish insensibility to national degradation, to a perfect indifference to national honour?”

It may certainly be asked, on the other hand, how a nation reduced to the state described by Lady Morgan could be entrusted to work out for itself a revolution which “would have led to the happiest consequences.” But liberty in Italy, as elsewhere, must have taken time to grow; even under the most patriotic of leaders a nation does not become suddenly ripe for the blessings of freedom. Nor can it be doubted that by the spirit that moved in 1820-1822, and which burst forth so brightly in aftertime, were laid the first foundations of that structure of Italian unity finally completed by politicians more skilled but not more patriotic than the revolutionists.

How far Panizzi’s own country, Modena, was concerned in the attempted work of liberation will be best shown by a short notice of his book, the “Processi di Rubiera.”

By this work, no doubt originally intended for the world, but even then so sparingly circulated and subsequently so rigidly suppressed by the writer that very few persons have even seen it, the circumstances which drove Panizzi into exile, though not detailed in all their fulness, are illustrated and rendered intelligible.

A somewhat minute analysis is not therefore out of place here, although, whether from indisposition to thrust himself forward or from fear of compromising others, the author’s name occurs but once or twice in the body of the work, which therefore contributes hardly anything to the elucidation of his own biography. It has usually been referred to as “I Processi di Rubiera,” Rubiera being the name of the fortress situated between Reggio and Modena, where the prosecution of Modenese political offenders was conducted before a tribunal nominated ad hoc. The title of the book, however, is “Dei Processi e delle Sentenze contra gli imputati di Lesa-Maestà e di aderenza alle Sette proscritte negli Stati di Modena;” 247 pages, besides the title, Madrid, 8°., 1823. The imprint was a disguise; the publication, if the work can be said to have been published, took place at Lugano. The designation of the anonymous editor, dating from Madrid, Feb. 2, 1823, and subscribing himself, “Un membro della società landeburiana,” was no doubt equally apocryphal, and may probably have concealed Panizzi himself. The document is altogether one of the most interesting productions of its author, especially as an indication of the eminence he might have attained in his chosen profession of advocacy had his lot been cast in a free State. The style borders on the oratorical, charged with fiery but restrained indignation, while the vehemence of invective is supported by legal acumen, and a thorough acquaintance with the maxims of jurisprudence, to which the writer continually appeals. His power of recollection and mastery of incidents, whether public or personal, appear extraordinary when it is considered that, his papers having been seized at Cremona, Panizzi himself must have depended to a very great extent upon his memory. Yet the completeness of the documents, which are all given in full, induce the belief that he might somehow have preserved this part of his materials, or have subsequently obtained it indirectly. Some inaccuracies may well have crept unheeded into the narrative under such circumstances, and this may possibly account for his evident desire to suppress the work. Years after, being questioned on the subject by the biographer, he answered, “Better say nothing about it.” It seems difficult to assign any other reason, unless it might be an excessive deference to the sentiment alluded to in the preface, “che lo scoprire le turpitudini delta patria sua, comecchè a ciascuna persona non istia bene, a coloro poi che per capriccio di malvagia fortuna furono fuori del seno di lei trabalzati, più specialmente non convenga.” The tone of the production can scarcely have been disapproved by his maturer judgment. Though emphatic, it is always decorous, whilst the literary effect is even impaired by a punctilious adherence to constitutional fictions in criticizing the acts of the sovereign. There is nothing capable of being construed to the writer’s own disadvantage, unless an adversary were sufficiently malicious or prejudiced to discover an incentive to political assassination, in his report of a matter of fact, that Modena rejoiced at hearing the news that a tyrannical official could persecute his fellow-townsmen no more. This moderation of tone certainly cannot have arisen from any vacillation on Panizzi’s part. He never altered his opinion of the Modenese Government; and, even if his mere opinion were disregarded, the documents printed by him speak sufficiently for themselves. It is fortunate that he did not succeed in entirely suppressing so lamentable an illustration of the forlorn condition of the Italy of his youth.

The book commences with a retrospective survey of the then recent history of Italy, displaying remarkable insight into personal character, and containing shrewd remarks on State policy. This introduction may one day be appealed to as a testimony that the true founder of Italian independence and unity was neither Charles Albert nor Victor Emmanuel, not Cavour, nor Mazzini, nor Garibaldi, but Napoleon. Nothing, certainly, could have been farther from the intention of the rapacious conqueror, who, ere the ink was well dry with which he had assured the citizens of the Cisalpine Republic that their liberties would shortly be secure, proceeded to confiscate them himself.

A contemporary writer mentions the project which Bonaparte is known to have long entertained, for consolidating Italy into one State, and adds: “While he was Emperor of France he probably intended to administer his new Government by a Viceroy, but since his abdication we are satisfied from all we have seen and heard of his conduct that he dreams of his Italian kingdom for himself.”

It was, however, impossible for a revolutionary invader, whose authority involved the negation of the old order of things, to govern Italy without appealing to Italian national sentiment. The various branches of administration fell into the hands of natives. A national army was formed which participated to the full in the glories of the Empire, and Italy regained something of that reputation for valour and conduct which she had forfeited for three hundred years. The Italian youth, no longer condemned by the jealousy of their rulers to an existence of indolence and frivolity, awoke to the perception that their immediate progenitors had reversed the mission of their forefathers.

Excudent alii spirantia mollius æra, ...

Tu regere imperio populos, Romane, memento.

For themselves, if still subjects, they were no longer slaves.

Napoleon, “nato,” in Panizzi’s pregnant phrase, “per dar l’orma all’età sua”, prepared the way for the love of liberty by reviving the love of glory. Looking around them, the Italians beheld an enlightened code of laws, impartial judges, religious toleration, education fostered by the State, active industry, flourishing finances, above all, a strictly national administration, with every post accessible to desert. The instinctive sagacity of the race taught them to be content with so large a measure of good for the present, and to reserve their aspirations for independence until their beneficent master should bequeath his empire to his son. That day never came. Bonaparte fell, execrated by the many nations which he had pillaged and dismembered, but cherished by the one he had trained to national life, with a regard which is still a force in European politics.

Six millions of Italians had, in Napoleon’s time at least, been permitted to bear the Italian name. The Congress of Vienna resolved them back into Lombards, Piedmontese, and the people of Parma and Modena. Modena was assigned to the Austrian Archduke, descended on the female side from the ancient house of Este, a petty tyrant of a peculiarly exasperating type, timorous, suspicious, and hypocritical. His first act was to abolish the Code Napoleon, and replace it by the code promulgated by authority in 1771. The motive for this retrograde proceeding was apparent. The code Napoleon was lucid and comprehensive; the obscurity and imperfection of the “Codice Estense” left a margin of uncertainty, under cover of which the maxims of the antiquated civil and canon law would always be introduced when required. The judge had thus the power of resorting to either as he pleased, and his arbitrary decision might be the most potent element in the proceedings. This was plainly equivalent to a denial of justice to persons charged with political offences. The remodelled magistracy was filled with subservient functionaries; but the real main-spring of the judicial administration was Besini, the Chief of Police. Every act of the Government betrayed the same tendency, especially the oppressive system of taxation, introduced to replenish the Duke’s private exchequer, and the restrictions imposed upon higher education. Schools and colleges were placed under the control of the Jesuits; and scholarships established for the support of poor students at the universities were suppressed, the Duke declaring openly that people must not be encouraged to aspire beyond their station. Every person of liberality or culture became disaffected, and as all open expression of discontent was prohibited, secret societies began to permeate the entire duchy.

Matters were in this state when the sudden explosion of the Neapolitan revolution turned the apprehensions of the petty Italian Governments into an actual panic. Austrian troops, hastily summoned to repress the Liberal movement, passed through Modena on their march. Some of these were Hungarians, a nation sympathising with Italy. An address was prepared and secretly circulated among them, imploring them not to fight against the Neapolitans. The jealousy of the Modenese Government was roused to the highest pitch. Many arrests were made, chiefly by means of espionage and the violation of private correspondence; and on March 14th, 1821, a special tribunal was constituted for the trial of political offenders. It was the formal inauguration of a reign of terror. “Avrà luogo,” says the decree, “un processo e un giudizio statario—Statario, dal latino statim, se mal non avviso,” is the sarcastic note of the editor.

The etymology might seem borne out by the injunction that the duration of the proceedings was in no case to exceed eight days, and by the sinister regulation: “Si terrà, pronto il carnefice, si potrà secondo le circonstanze, eriggere il patibolo anche preventivamente, e si disporrà per aver pronto un religioso il quale assista coloro che fossero condannati.” The priest and the executioner, however, were not immediately called into requisition; and the Neapolitan and Piedmontese revolutions having been promptly extinguished, the tempest seemed about to pass off, when suddenly, about the beginning of 1822, numerous arrests were made of persons suspected of participation in the meetings of secret societies. It was soon reported that one of those implicated had denounced his friends, and dark stories became current of the tortures and privations by which the chief of the police, Giulio Besini, sought to wring out confession. By a decree of unheard of injustice and indecency, this natural enemy of the accused was appointed their judge, and charged to receive the depositions he had himself extorted. The issue was eagerly awaited, when, on the evening of May 14th, 1822, Besini perished by an unknown hand. Besini was taken home, surgeons sent for, and the blow declared mortal. Quick as lightning the welcome news spread through Modena, and the people heard with joy that there was a man in the town who had been bold enough to rid the land of a miscreant. With his dying breath he denounced a certain Gaetano Ponzoni, who, he said, had cause to be his enemy, “as if,” observes Panizzi, “Ponzoni were the only such person in the duchy.”

Upon the admonition of the attendant magistrate, Solmi, Besini acknowledged that he could not positively identify his assailant. Ponzoni was nevertheless arrested, and Solmi’s humane interference cost him his office. The special tribunal, hitherto dormant, was called into activity for Ponzoni’s trial.

The course of the procedure gave earnest of what was to follow. Parenti, Ponzoni’s advocate, was allowed only three days to prepare his defence, and denied an opportunity of examining the adverse witnesses, a part even of the written depositions was withheld from him, he was charitably admonished not to occupy the time of the court with trivialities, and referred to a secret Ducal decree conferring unlimited powers on the tribunal, which could not be shown to the advocate, because it contained very confidential instructions intended for the court alone. In spite of all these obstacles, Ponzoni’s innocence was irrefragably established; but his judges, afraid to acquit and ashamed to condemn, simply laid the proceedings before the Duke, who left them unnoticed, and when Panizzi wrote, Ponzoni was still in prison, where he remained, though innocent, till the year 1831. The true assassin proved to be a certain Morandi, who, when safe in London, openly avowed having committed the deed.

This prosecution was but a preliminary to the indictment of the unfortunate men who had languished in captivity since the beginning of the year. About the middle of June the commission appointed to try them commenced its session at Fort Rubiera. Its first task was to receive the confessions extorted from the prisoners during their incarceration, and to elude the numerous retractations of the accused. All these avowals proved to have been obtained under Besini’s management by fraud or force. Manzotti had been chained to a wall in such a manner as to oblige him to remain in an erect position until he subscribed to what was required of him; Nizzoli’s signature was affixed during the paroxysms of a fever fit, after he had been chained so as not to be able to sit down for forty days. Conti was entrapped by a forged confession attributed to another prisoner; Alberici was gained by allurements and flatteries; Caronzi was persuaded by the prayers and tears of his wife, whose honour was said to have been the price of a fallacious promise of her husband’s deliverance, he being sentenced to twenty years’ penal servitude, a term reduced by the Duke to fifteen. Peretti, Maranesi, Farioli, and others testified to similar deceits and cruelties ineffectually employed against themselves; some, beguiled by the inducement held out to them, remained silent. The chief prosecutor, Vedriani, a man of honour and integrity, called upon the tribunal to acquaint the prisoners that such promises were illusory and unauthorised. His colleague Fieri opposed him; the question was referred to the Duke, who denied having authorised Besini to hold out any expectations of indulgence. Vedriani insisted that the culprits should be apprised of this declaration; the judges, fearful lest the unfortunate men should escape from the snare into which they had fallen, peremptorily negatived the demand. Vedriani indignantly threw up his brief, and the last hope of justice vanished with him. A more supple instrument was found, and the prosecution proceeded as the Government desired. The prisoners were debarred from choosing their own advocates, and those selected were only allowed to confer with them under restrictions. The defenders nevertheless did their duty, and although they could not, without subverting the entire judicial fabric of Modena, as then understood, have brought the judges to acknowledge the uselessness of extorted confessions (the sole evidence against most of the accused)—the illegality of the tribunal itself ab initio, or, even granting its legality, the incompetence of the tribunal to take cognisance of offences which it had not been constituted to try—they deterred the court from accepting the conclusions of the prosecutor Fieri.

This man had demanded the execution of forty-two persons, at most only guilty of belonging to a secret society, and accused of no overt offence against public tranquility. The tribunal reduced the penalty to various terms of imprisonment. The sentences, before they were pronounced, had to be submitted to the Duke for confirmation. Francis, enraged at their lenity, summoned the President of the Commission before him, the revised sentences assumed a very different complexion, and all the three judges stultified their previous decision by subscribing them “perchè tale fù la Sovrana mente e volontà.” Nine of the accused, some of whom had fortunately made their escape, were condemned to death; the remainder to the galleys or imprisonment for life, or for various periods. A Ducal decree appeared after some delay maintaining the punishment of death against those who had escaped, pronouncing a virtual sentence of imprisonment for life against those who had steadfastly maintained their innocence, and extending marked indulgence to those who had merited it by a “sincere, prompt, and spontaneous confession,” in other words, those who had been cajoled or intimidated into betraying their associates. The latter part of Panizzi’s publication is occupied with a legal demonstration of the incompetence of a tribunal constituted to try charges of high treason to deal with the mere offence of belonging to a secret society. The argument seems conclusive, but in fact the tribunal had voluntarily branded itself with a deeper mark than any that its assailant’s eloquence or ingenuity could have affixed to it.

On a perusal of the sentences, which are given “totidem verbis” in the appendix of the book, the civilized reader remarks with astonishment that, on the tribunal’s own showing, half the offences for which it awards penalties are not proved at all. First, is recited a series of facts considered to be established, by far the greater part of which relate merely to the presence of the inculpated person at the formal reception of some new member into a secret society. Then, in many instances, comes a second string of accusations, confessedly not proved, but considered possible “perchè si ha pure in processo qualche indizio.” And sentence is equally awarded for both!

The reasons, for which the sentence on a priest, Giuseppe Andreoli, was carried out, are worthy of attention:—

1. Because he had committed a crime which was punishable with death.

2. Because he had been the means of corrupting the younger part of the community.

3. Because he had abused the situation of Professor of Belles Lettres, at Correggio, in converting it into an instrument[instrument] of Carbonarism.

4. Because he had confessed his crime too late, and not within that time, which the Duke had fixed upon as available for such confessions.

As to the latter, it is to be borne in mind, that he confessed, simply on account of the Duke’s encouragement. The sentence was confirmed on the 11th of October, 1822, not because it was legally necessary, but, indeed, for the personal gratification of Francis IV; “Invocando il Santissimo nome di Gesù.”

At the period of the production of this work Panizzi’s own process was in suspense. He mentions it in a note, complaining of the delay, as intended to discredit him in the eyes of the other Italian patriots. His cousin, Francesco Panizzi, had, it appears, made some sort of confession, and been treated with suspicious lenity. If the Modenese Government had any intention of forcing or enticing Antonio into the like course of action with his cousin, it must have been frustrated by his publication, which may account for the impotent passion evinced in the subsequent proceedings against him. The work would be felt the more irritating from its sobriety of manner, its moderation even in the midst of invective, and its constant appeal to establish legal principle, as the criterion of the whole question. While proclaiming his fervent aspirations for the independence of his country, the author incidentally disclaims any participation in the proceedings of the Carbonari, and the commission of any act tending to the overthrow of the existing Government.

Such would be the natural attitude of a citizen like Panizzi, and he may well have affiliated himself to the secret society, as at that time the sole efficient agent in the cause of Italian freedom.

It is, nevertheless, difficult to conceive a man of his solid sense and practical sagacity, long acquiescing in the mummery of a Carbonarist conclave, and submitting to be known to the initiated as Thrasybulus or Archimedes. He represents, however, all the more faithfully, the indignation of the generous youth who had grown up under the comparative liberty of Napoleon’s sway, and who, on attaining maturity, found themselves deprived by political changes in other countries, of their birthright in their own; forbidden to call or think themselves Italians; and with every avenue in life closed against them, unless they consented to become instruments of a cruel and senseless despotism.

As this generation has passed away other aspects of the Italian question have come into greater prominence; the stately tree of Italian unity has covered the soil in which it originally took root. Even more as a picture of contemporary national feeling, than as an exposure of the fraud and cruelty of an extinct tyranny, is Panizzi’s youthful work, worthy of being rescued from the oblivion to which he for so long condemned it.

Deeply interesting as are these recollections of the struggle for freedom in Italy, and intimately as they are connected with the life of Panizzi, than whom no stauncher advocate for the liberty of his country ever existed, it must not be forgotten that the object we have immediately in view is to refer to these exciting events so far only as Panizzi himself was concerned with them, and not to allow ourselves to be carried away by our subject beyond the limits necessary to elucidate the object we have at heart.

CHAPTER II

Flight; Lugano; Arrival in London; Santa-Rosa; Sentence of Death; Liverpool; Roscoe and Friends; Letter to the Tax-Gatherer and Inspector of Finances; Miss Martin; Lectures.

It is hardly possible for a native of a free country to form a right conception of the more than fatherly interest formerly taken by the petty prince of an Italian State in the welfare of his subjects. So deeply impressed with this feeling was Francis IV, Duke of Modena, Panizzi’s patron of yore, that he was in the habit at this time (1821) of sending regularly during the week one of his own private carriages into Brescello for the express purpose of bringing back two persons (whose names were set down in his orders, but not divulged) whom it was, doubtless, his intention to reclaim from evil opinions, to save them from the dangers to which such opinions might lead, and to hold them up as examples of his paternal care, or, it is just possible, as a warning to the remainder of his people. The Brescellese, either from uneasiness of conscience or from a natural dislike to all that was good, regarded both the duke’s intentions and his carriage with aversion. Of all men the least anxious for a seat in it were Panizzi and his friend Dr. Minzi, whom, it may be remembered, he had initiated into Carbonarism. It happened one day, as these two friends were taking their afternoon stroll along the Peggio road, that the ill-omened carriage suddenly appeared in the distance. Their only resource was to throw themselves into the ditch by the roadside, and remain concealed as closely as possible until the fatal vehicle had passed. This they accordingly did, and, as good luck would have it, escaped unnoticed. To return to Brescello was to meet the carriage a second time in all probability, for they suspected, and not without reason, that they themselves were the two persons who were to take a forced drive to Modena—a journey for which, at present, they felt little inclination. It was decided, therefore, as a temporary measure, to cross the frontier, and both being nimble of foot and with bodies well trained, as becomes all wise and prudent men, by athletic exercise, they fled across country with all possible speed for the Parmese territory. Arrived on this hospitable soil, the story goes that they threw themselves prone upon it, and actually (not figuratively) kissed it, pouring forth their heartfelt thanks to Providence for their deliverance from impending evil. Their position was even now far from enviable. It was impossible for them to remain on Parmese ground, and they were fully aware that perils as great as those from which they had just escaped lay before them. Exhausted as they were, they held a council on the road, in doubt whether to proceed or return to Brescello. The conclusion at which they arrived was that the better plan was to go back and make careful inquiries in the neighbouring villages, in order to ascertain who were the two persons for whom the agents of the police were seeking. On that very night, therefore, they returned, reaching Brescello about daybreak, and learnt to their great satisfaction that their names had never been mentioned. Here they seemed to have secured repose; but, as it turned out, of short duration, lasting only for the space of two months; for on the 22nd of October in the same year Panizzi received a slight message summoning him to the police office, where he accordingly attended. Hardly had he reached the door when he was arrested. Throughout all his misfortunes he seems not to have been without his share of good luck. The man who arrested him proved to be a friend, and by the aid of this kindly official he was enabled to jump out of a window, and again make his way for the frontier.

It may not be uninteresting to mention here that this man afterwards became an Austrian spy. Many years later on, while Panizzi was on a journey to Italy, and had arrived at the frontier, some one approached the carriage and demanded his passport. It was, of course, handed over. On returning it the man said, “Buon viaggio, Signor Panizzi!” and he recognised his friend of the Brescello police-office.

In the meantime, and before his arrest, the refugee, whose good luck it must be confessed was mainly owing to his sagacity and foresight, had taken care to provide himself with a passport. This, strange to say, he obtained duly endorsed, through a friend of Count Munarini, then Minister of Foreign Affairs. In addition to this passport, he had also armed himself with another document, almost equally useful. This was a pass, in the form usually given to labourers who wished to absent themselves for the day. With these papers in his possession he crossed the Po to Viadana, and, setting out from thence in company with Minzi, Zatti and Montani, arrived at Cremona, where he was recognised by the Austrian police-agent Ticino, who endeavoured to arrest his further progress. In this attempt, however, he failed; Panizzi’s passport being perfectly en règle. Nevertheless, he succeeded at the instigation of a notorious spy named Antonioli in robbing the fugitive of a portion of his luggage.

From Cremona he made his way as well as he could to Switzerland, where he took up his quarters at Lugano. Here he wrote his “Processi di Rubiera,” and at first thought of settling in the place, as this was a free town, near his own home. It may be as well to keep the memory of wrongs before the world, and it is unfortunately the way of unsuccessful men in general, and of unsuccessful revolutionists in particular, not to accept defeat philosophically, but after all hope of success has departed, still to irritate those whom they have failed to dispossess or overcome. From this pardonable defect Panizzi was, as might be expected, not more free than the rest of mankind. His restless and energetic disposition would not allow him to refrain from political controversy, and the character of his writings so provoked the Austrians that he was ordered to quit Lugano and proceed to. Geneva. Thither he accordingly went, but not to remain long; his objectionable reputation had preceded him, and the representatives of Austria, France, and Sardinia insisted on his expulsion. England was the only country now open to himself and his brother exiles, and thither they determined to journey by way of France; but, as they were not certain that the French authorities would allow refugees to pass through their country, it was decided to send forward Signor Bezzi (afterwards well-known in England as Mr. G. Aubrey Bezzi, who died in Piedmont only a few months before Panizzi) to exploiter the route. This gentleman’s exploitation must be held to have fallen a little short of complete success. At Gex, a small town in France, in the Department of Ain, and about 11 miles from Geneva, he was stopped, unceremoniously stripped, and after being thoroughly searched and examined, sent back. There was, however, a way to England still left to the party, by the Rhine and the Netherlands, and by this route they arrived in London in May, 1823. It is painful to have to record that the slenderness of their means obliged them to live in a state bordering on actual destitution. The author clearly recollects hearing Panizzi narrate that, in these days of his indigence, fourteen-pence was all he allowed himself for breakfast and dinner, and how well he remembered spending one portion of an afternoon in gazing through the windows of a cook-shop watching with hungry eyes the more fortunate mortals who were satisfying their appetites within; and this reminiscence gained additional zest from the fact that it was related at a banquet[banquet].

London at this period was full of refugees, from every country and of every grade, including presidents of republics, generals, men of letters, lawyers, poets, etc.

At first these various celebrities enjoyed a considerable amount of notoriety, no small part of which was bestowed upon them by the newspaper writers, who seemed for some time to be indefatigable in drawing public notice to the exiles, and in relating exciting anecdotes of this or that famous person sojourning amongst them. In due course, however, the novelty of the thing wore off, and readers, having had a surfeit of such accounts, the newspapers gradually ceased to stimulate their curiosity, and the expatriated heroes were forgotten by the public at large.

If, as the maxim is, a man may be known by the society he keeps, Panizzi, who seems at most times to have had peculiar good fortune in attracting to himself men of worth, both privately and publicly, must be allowed to have stood high in this respect.

His dearest friend at this period of his life in London was the illustrious Piedmontese statesman, Santorre Santa-Rosa, who, the life and soul of the great patriotic movement then lately made to achieve the freedom of his country, was born at Savigliano in Sardinia, in September, 1783. He was the author of the History of the Piedmontese Revolution, a work which breathes the true spirit of national liberty, and exhibits its writer as a most determined foe to anything in the shape of foreign domination. Forced by his Government to expatriate himself in 1821, Santa Rosa went to Switzerland, but being, like Panizzi, compelled by the Austrian and Sardinian Governments to quit that country, he betook himself to France, taking up his residence in Paris, where he assumed the name of Conti, and became the bosom friend of Victor Cousin. Early in October, 1822, he arrived in England, on the merits and defects of which country he makes the following quaint comment in one of his letters to his brother exiles:—“Here I have been received with sincerity and kindness. I also admire the virtuous habits of the English, but cannot get used to their mode of cooking.”

For ourselves, as true lovers of our country, we are too well content with the eulogy at the beginning, to take exception to the blame of one of our institutions implied in the concluding part of the sentence.

In November, 1824, Santa-Rosa left England for Napoli di Romania to fight for the cause of Greek independence, and was killed in battle on the 19th of May, 1825. His death was a sad blow to the band of Italian patriots in London, but especially to Panizzi, who had looked up to him as a father and a counsellor, and had kept up a constant correspondence with him. There are in our possession but two letters written by Santa-Rosa to his friend, dated respectively the 5th September and 13th November, 1823, from “The Green Cottage, South Bank, St. John’s Wood,” a part of the town much affected as a dwelling place by the leading refugees. Conspicuous in these are the writer’s affection for Panizzi and anxious care for his welfare; nor are matters of mental instruction omitted, for we find strong recommendations carefully to study the political and literary history of Italy, and also “note all the most important points of English habits.” After Santa-Rosa, Panizzi’s chief friends, with whom during his stay in town he spent a great portion of his time, were the brothers Camillo and Filippo Ugoni, both literary men of some note.

Shortly after Panizzi’s arrival in London he was tried in his absence on the charge of Carbonarism, in which it has been shown that he was deeply implicated. Of this, as might have been expected, he was found guilty on pretty clear evidence, and, in default of appearance, was sentenced to death by the Government of Modena.

Subjoined is a translation of the sentence:—

Invoking the name of God Most Holy, in the reign of Francis IV. Duke of Modena, Reggio, and Mirandola, Archduke of Austria, Prince Royal of Hungary and Bohemia.

The Special Tribunal, instituted by revered sovereign sign manual of 28 July, 1823,

Having assembled at the Palace of Justice, and in the chamber duly appointed for the purpose of trying the Doctor of Laws, Antonio, son of Luigi Panizzi, native of and domiciled at Brescello, province of Reggio, contumacious, and CRIMINALLY ARRAIGNED:

1. For that he, being already enrolled in a prohibited sect, took part with other persons known to the judicial authorities in the reception into the sect of Carbonari of the appraiser Francesco Panizzi, and Doctor Domenico Giglioli of Brescello, in the afternoon of the 11th of March, 1821, in his own office situated in his dwelling house at Brescello.

2. For that he in the evening of the next day, the 12th, did with other persons likewise known to the judicial authorities take part in the reception into the sect of Carbonari of the apothecary Bartolomeo Panizzi of Brescello, which reception took place in the office of the appraiser Francesco Panizzi, situated in his dwelling house at Brescello.

Having referred to the documents drawn up by the acting Director of Police, Doctor Pietro Curti, and to the further documents before this Tribunal, and particularly to the charges issued against the accused by the special inquisition on the 1st, and the 19th of September last past;

Having referred to the inferences of the Procurator Fiscal of this Tribunal, Advocate Felice Fieri;

Considering that the results of the legal proceedings taken against the said contumacious Dr. Panizzi prove that he certainly belonged to a proscribed sect, and moreover clearly demonstrate that he was anxious to gain proselytes for the sect of Carbonari, and to promote by every means the efforts of the confederates, and the object at which they were aiming, that is the overthrow and destruction of our present lawful government;

Considering that the deposition of the appraiser Panizzi and those of Giuseppe Alberici, of Dr. Giuseppe Minzi and of Dr. Giov. Batt^a Cavandoli all of Brescello, show that the accused Panizzi took part in the reception into the sect of Carbonari of the said appraiser Panizzi and of Dr. Domenico Giglioli of Brescello, which took place at his own house and exactly in the office of the accused himself, in the afternoon of the first Sunday in Lent, in the year 1821, that is on the 11th of March in the said year, whilst amongst the said persons there are some who assert that the accused himself acted there as chief, and also instructed the aforesaid Giglioli and appraiser Panizzi, the first of whom likewise confesses that his aggregation to the sect, which he afterwards found to be that of the Carbonari, and which was even indicated to him as such by the accused Panizzi, took place with the participation of the said accused and in the place above-mentioned;

Considering that in regard to the aggregation of the apothecary Panizzi to the Carbonari sect with the participation of the accused, there are the depositions of the former as well as of the appraiser Panizzi and of Cavandoli, who were present there with others, and that those depositions are corroborated by the extrajudicial confession of the accused himself, made to Nizzoli on the very evening of the event, that he had introduced the said apothecary Panizzi into the Carbonari sect, and made a Carbonaro of the said Panizzi, and subsequently with regard to Giglioli that he too had been affiliated to the Carbonari sect;

As the said Panizzi still persists in his contumacy, which in terms of the law is equivalent to imputed confession, and considering that all the formalities prescribed by T. 12, L. 4 of the Cod. Est. have been observed;

Having referred to the same code §§ 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 7 of L. 5. T. 2.—§ 9. L. 4, 7, 15, and the sovereign edict 20 September, 1820;

The above-mentioned tribunal has condemned, and does condemn, the contumacious Doctor of Laws, Antonio Panizzi, to the punishment of

DEATH

to be executed on his effigy, to confiscation of his property, and in the costs.

Modena, 6 October, 1823.

Giuseppe Cons^re Terni, President.

P^e Cavedoni, Judge.

C. Tassoni, Judge.

P. Pedreschi, Chancellor.

This sentence was promulgated by me in due form this 20 October, 1823.

Pedreschi, Chancellor.

A true copy. Pedreschi, Chancellor.

These hair-breadth escapes may be very amusing and pleasant to read about, but to the principal person concerned, who was thoroughly capable of appreciating the various positions and vicissitudes of life, they must have conveyed anything but agreeable impressions, or conduced to the ease of mind so acceptable to mankind in general.

Panizzi remained but a short time in London. The celebrated Ugo Foscolo, to whom the Ugoni had introduced him, had strongly advised him at once to quit the metropolis and to try his fortunes at Liverpool, where there was more likelihood of his obtaining employment. Foscolo furnished him with letters of introduction to William Roscoe, author of the life of Leo X., and also to other distinguished Liverpool men. How he was received by Roscoe, the following passage in the biography of the latter (Lond. 1833), vol. ii., p. 406, will show:—“It was the good fortune of Mr. Roscoe to retain, even to the close of his life, that power of attracting the friendship of others which had been from his youth one of his most marked characteristics. Amongst these, the friends of his age, there was no one who became more sincerely attached to him, or for whom he himself felt a higher degree of esteem and affection than Mr. Panizzi, an Italian gentleman, who had been compelled, in consequence of political persecutions, to abandon Italy and to take refuge in England. Soon after his arrival in this country he settled in Liverpool as a teacher of the Italian language, where his talents and worth soon won the regard of Mr. Roscoe. To the kindness and attention of Mr. Panizzi, which rather resembled that of a son than of a stranger, he owed many happy hours.” Mr. Roscoe died on June 30th, 1831.

At his death Panizzi received the following letter:—

Lodge-lane, 30th June, 1831.

So affectionately attached as you have been to my father, I cannot let you learn the sad intelligence which this letter will convey from anybody but one of his own family.

He was seized last week with a violent cold or influenza, accompanied with fever. At first we thought him getting over it, but on Monday night he was attacked with a shivering fit, and being put to bed he never rose again. His strength failed him rapidly, and this morning at 11 o’clock he breathed his last quite peacefully.

It is a great consolation to know that he suffered no acute pain, and his mind seemed perfectly composed.

Yours, &c.,

H. Roscoe.

The centenary of William Roscoe’s birth was celebrated at Liverpool on the 8th March, 1853, and Panizzi was of course asked to attend.

In replying to the invitation he said:—“Feb. 19, 1853.... The veneration in which I, together with all lovers of truth, of freedom, of independence, of literature, and of the arts, hold the memory of that illustrious man, and the grateful recollection of the warm and affectionate regard with which I was honoured by him, are inducements so powerful to accept so kind an invitation as that which your letter conveys, that nothing but the absolute impossibility of leaving my duties here could restrain me from availing myself of it.”

Before Panizzi left London he received from Italy a most curious bill for money due from him; such a bill as few men have ever received at any time, and such as many men, Panizzi, probably, amongst the number, would hardly consider the most unpleasant of their kind. It was from the Inspector of Finances and Tax-gatherer (Ispettore ed Esattore di Finanze) at Reggio, who, having heard of Panizzi’s escape and arrival in Switzerland, sent him an account of money spent in preparing his accusation, sentence of death, and even for the expenses of his execution, “in contumaciam.” The actual sum demanded was 225 francs and 25 cents, including the usual fee for the hangman.

In his then low state of spirits Panizzi hardly felt equal to answering this amusing epistle in a befitting manner, and accordingly postponed his reply until after his arrival at Liverpool, whence he sent the following humorous letter:—

(Translation.) Realm of Death,

Elysian Fields,

10th May, 1824.

The soul of whilom Dr. Antonio Panizzi,

To the Inspector of Finances and Tax-gatherer of the Province of Reggio (Satanic Domain).

The body animated by me before I was smitten by the pointless stiletto of Terni, Cavedoni, and crew, and now living at Liverpool, by the grace of God sound and so sprightly that those who see it think that—spite of Modena’s Dukeling—I have not yet forsaken it, has sent me in my abode here a letter of yours, No. 14 of the 26th of March last past, requesting information or reply. Now I, in compliance with the latter solicitation, have to tell you that, mindful of the maxim “mors omnia solvit,” I do not consider that since my departure I have any longer either assets or liabilities in that miserable world of yours; unless you mean to say that, notwithstanding the Holy Alliance, I am still united to that body of mine at Liverpool; which would be a deadly sin ipso facto et jure incurring the penalty of higher excommunication, from which none but a fashionable Jesuit could absolve me, for having had the audacity to suggest a doubt of your most benign petty masterling’s lawful authority to expel me from the world.

Nevertheless, as I and that aforesaid body of mine are always upon such good terms with each other that we might still pass for body and soul conjoined, and as the corporal party through honourable industry can by my direction dispose of a few pounds sterling without inconvenience, I beg you to send to my body at Liverpool—for the post from your diabolical State never comes to disturb my rest here—a detailed account of the expenses and of the food which you tell me ought to be paid for to the extra-crammed treasury of a microscopical Duke who has been so over-weeningly fatuous as to send me to dwell in this beatific place; and if your statement be found correct, I will remit you in discharge thereof a bill of exchange on some Capuchin bank payable at sight when the Greek calends come. Only I warn you to give full particulars of the food, for I have an idea that it was gobbled up by the aforesaid fleshmongers Terni, Cavedoni, and crew; knowing well that my body, seasonably advised by me, spared the Treasury the trouble not only of providing the food to be paid for afterwards, and for which you make a demand now, but also of preparing a lodging generously offered gratis, only rather too late. If I perceive by the item—Bottles—that Terni bravely distinguished himself as a consummate hypocrite in Austrian service ought to do, I will write to him, begging him to pardon me for a letter which I addressed to him, as if I had been on earth, telling him that he acted against me like a hired assassin, and I will excuse him as a “drunken murderer.”

Wishing you a death such as mine, I conclude without further ceremony, both for the sake of following your example and because such observances are not much affected in this republic.

The soul of A. Panizzi

It must be acknowledged that this was rather a substantial letter to emanate from the world of spirits, and the imaginary separation of the soul from the “sound and sprightly” body should certainly have satisfied his extraordinary creditors and absolved him from the debt.

Panizzi had now settled for the time in Liverpool, where he kept up a constant correspondence with absent friends. The two letters from Santa-Rosa, dated 1823, too clearly prove that he was at this time in a state of great poverty, and that he thought of returning to London, a step, however, strongly opposed by his friend.

The capricious nature of the English climate—it was in the winter that he had arrived at Liverpool—seemed to discourage and depress him, perhaps, more than anything else; whilst the want of the most ordinary comforts of life, even of proper food, told severely upon his health. His income was chiefly derived from giving lessons in the Italian language and literature; some of his pupils lived far away from the town, and he used to start on foot early in the morning, give his lessons and return to Liverpool by eleven o’clock. This was necessary, as other duties required his attendance in the town at that hour; and, when we consider that the journey had frequently to be made through snow and rain, its depressing influence on the spirits of the young Italian, accustomed to the more genial climes of the south, may be readily understood.

His address at this date, December 1823, is not known, but in the January following he lodged at No. 6, King-street, Soho. He continued to extend his acquaintance and was upon friendly terms with the bankers, Mr. Ymes and Mr. Zwilchenbart. At this period, too, he knew Mr. John Ewart, at whose house he met Mr. Francis Haywood, the translator of Kant’s “Critick of Pure Reason.”

From these gentlemen, who, as well as the Rev. William Shepherd, author of the “Life of Poggio Bracciolini,” were among his earliest acquaintances in Liverpool, he received the greatest kindness. With Mr. Haywood he soon became most intimate, and frequent communications passed between them. Indeed, if a day elapsed without a letter from Mr. Haywood, Panizzi wrote, asking “why had he not written.”

Such were the friends, whom even in his early career, when chances of success appeared at a hazy distance, this young man was able to draw towards him, and many more he secured in after life.

The necessity of close attention to his duties, and the attractions of the hospitable society of English friends, never led him to neglect his fellow exiles.

Amongst the latter was a certain Count Linati, whose character and antecedents deserve some short notice at our hands. Claudio Linati was born in the Duchy of Parma, on the 1st of February, 1790. He appears to have been at one time a man of wealth and standing, but had become deeply involved in the political complications of his country. On the 9th of April, 1824, he was tried in his absence for conspiracy against his Government, and sentenced to death in contumaciam by the Supreme Tribunal of Parma. Having succeeded in making his escape, he settled for a time in Spain, and subsequently in France. He was a writer and artist of no mean ability. In a letter to a mutual friend, Panizzi describes Linati, as a man of turbulent spirit, on whom nature had bestowed a robust constitution, proof against all changes of climate; full of energy, though without any decided aim, an adept at all employments, and well versed in literature; a painter and a poet, a writer of plays, too, both comic and tragic, many of which he delighted to read to his friend. The manners and customs of the countries in which he lived were his constant study, though his views of mankind in general partook of his own untutored spirit. Speaking of Spain he says that priestly anarchy predominates in that country, and calls France “quel servilissimo versatile compassionevole popoletto,” stigmatising the nation as “servile pecus” for its submission to tyranny. Linati’s troubles were many, and these it was his constant pleasure to relate to his friend at Liverpool, in long letters which Panizzi often answered by sharp criticisms, perhaps provoked in part by the heavy postage which he had to pay, and to which he did not scruple to call attention. In one especial respect there was great dissimilarity between the Count and Panizzi, for whereas the former for some unknown reason hated England and the English people, the latter early evinced the strongest liking for both.

In December, 1823, he wrote to Linati, minutely describing his position, and concluding his long letter thus:—“In spite of all my sufferings and many troubles occasioned by poverty, I had rather live in England than in Italy.”

Upon this Linati wrote:—“Though your dear and beloved England may in some measure have slackened your chain, I will nevertheless tell you that I still prefer the Duke d’Angoulême, open enemy as he is, to that vile and infamous Sir William A’Court, who has betrayed the rights of hospitality by supporting a Government which, if unable to save itself, ought at least to have saved others. I can make a distinction between the generous people of England, whose hearts beat with noble enthusiasm at the war-cry of the liberal Spaniards, as well as the aspiration for Greek independence and self-government. I am delighted to learn that you are in the way of getting an honest livelihood. A hazardous occupation is that of teaching languages, particularly if you happen to meet with a pretty ‘Brittanna,’ who, whilst she is anxious to learn how to sing in Italian, may seem still more anxious to master the language of Petrarch, and suggest to her teacher that he might assist her in conjugating the verb amare (to love).”

The biographer has at this point to deplore the absence of some of Panizzi’s letters; not only because of the interesting matter which they are sure to have contained, but because curiosity must now remain unsatisfied in regard to the particular impression made on Panizzi’s mind by the suggestion in the last paragraph of Linati’s letter.

As the Count was no longer allowed to reside in France, the police ordered him to quit the country at once; whereupon he emigrated to Brussels, and here he found a letter from his Liverpool friend, enclosing an order for 300 francs. This present, however, he declined with thanks. The wretched state of the Italians, cast into the streets of Paris penniless, after several months of imprisonment, gave Panizzi and Linati work enough to do. The former used his influence with the Philhellenic Society in London, and the latter secured the interest of Lord Byron, of whom he happened to be an intimate friend.

In the summer of the following year it appears that both intended to settle at New York. Panizzi, however, in discussing this project, remarked that his acquaintance, though showing him every mark of kindness, never seemed to lose sight of the fact that he was an Italian; from the Americans, who were “a proud people,” there was a fortiori but scant courtesy to be expected, and but little advancement to be hoped for in their country. Linati’s answer was:—“I do not agree with you in what you say respecting the North Americans, for half the population consists of adventurers, and the system of colonization being so active, there will be no difficulties in becoming a citizen, whereas in England you will remain a ‘foreigner’ for ever.”

However, Linati went to Mexico, and from there again indulged in his abuse of England in these words:—“I cannot understand your sympathy with those English tradesmen; for whilst living amongst them I daily noticed cold and formal ceremonials, stupidity provoked by drink, and the brutality of the ‘prize-ring,’ with its livid eyes and battered faces. Really, and indeed, my dear friend, I am truly sorry that you do not agree with me.”

Linati seems to have discovered that worse countries existed than England; only a short interval had elapsed before we find him leaving Mexico in disgust and returning during the winter of 1827 to London, where he is heard of no more until 1830. In that year he was upon the committee for remodelling Italy. It is certain, however, that in course of time he overcame his antipathy to Mexico, for he afterwards returned thither, and died at Tampico in the year 1832.

Count Giuseppe Pecchio was another of those distinguished exiles in whose company Panizzi delighted. Their long correspondence reveals a close intimacy. Pecchio, better known in England as the author of the “Semi-serious Observations of an Italian Exile during his Residence in England,” was also one of the victims of the ill-fated Piedmontese Revolution. England was his first refuge, and, after being engaged in various occupations, amongst others that of Italian teacher at Nottingham, he married an English lady, and, “post tot naufragia tutus,” took up his residence at Brighton.

The book, published at Lugano in 1827, contains amusing sketches of English life from a foreigner’s point of view; and after perusing it one can safely conclude that the Count was indebted for his inferences rather to imagination than to memory—perhaps to the two combined more than to actual facts.

While residing in London Pecchio contemplated the production of a periodical, to which Panizzi was to be the chief contributor, with Messrs. Haywood and Roscoe as his supporters in addition to Silvia Pellico, who was about to be set free on occasion of the marriage of the Archduke Leopold, and whose presence was expected in the metropolis. This formed a strong company for the undertaking, to which the promoters were justified in looking forward with no little hope of success. The attempt to start this periodical, however, proved futile, and not even a number of it ever appeared.

On the 13th November, 1825, Pecchio wrote a letter to Panizzi, for the purpose of introducing a certain Miss E ****, telling him that he ought to appear as a Narcissus to captivate the young lady. Panizzi’s health, however, seemed at this time to fail him, and this he attributed to the severity of the winter season, which, as before stated, invariably affected him in a remarkable decree.

Possibly this may have been one cause of his indisposition. The Count, however, with some acuteness in deciding on symptoms, remarks: “The loss of one’s country is a wound which never heals; it is one of those pains which slowly destroy our own existence without our perceiving it.”

Sufficient space has, however, been allotted to Panizzi’s friends, and it is now time to return to Panizzi himself. His celebrity as a teacher of Italian and lecturer on that language was established at Liverpool. Before dilating upon his peculiar aptitude in this direction we must mention one feature in his character which will pre-eminently raise him in the estimation of all discerning readers. Miss Martin, one of his former pupils, knew him as a political exile in the time of his penury; nevertheless, she well recollects and bears witness to his most high-spirited disinterestedness in pecuniary matters—in fact, his singular disregard of money.

The lectures on the Italian language, at which this lady was present, were delivered by him in the years 1824 and 1825 in English; they had been inaugurated by Mr. Roscoe, and were given at the Royal Institution, Liverpool, where, strange to say, no record of them has been kept.

The following anecdote related by Miss Martin may serve to illustrate the earnestness of his addresses. In reciting some of the lines of the “Gerusalemme Liberata,” where the anxious Crusaders first catch sight of the sacred city of Jerusalem:—

“Ecco apparir Gerusalem si vede,

Ecco additar Gerusalem si scorge;

Ecco da mille voci unitamente

Gerusalemme salutar si sente.—”

his eager eye glanced at the wall at the side of the lecture-room with such realistic animation, and with such power over his hearers, that some of the audience turned to gaze on the vacant space as though the veritable towers and walls of Jerusalem had been thereon depicted.

These lectures were never published. The following extracts, expressive of his personal feelings towards his auditors may, even at this distance of time, be not altogether devoid of interest.

The first quotation is from the first of the lectures, written in the summer of 1824, and the second is from the concluding lecture of the series, delivered three years afterwards.

I.

If I dare to address you in your own language, it is neither because I have a vast confidence in my limited knowledge of it, nor because I am unaware how awkwardly a foreigner is situated on such an occasion. But since you do not honour me with your presence to ascertain how I am acquainted with your language, but to hear what my opinion is with respect to some poems written in my own, it is after all of very little consequence whether my diction be so correct and my pronunciation be pure, if I am but intelligible. Having to speak of a foreign literature, I had still more reason to expect that the audience would liberally overlook my blunders; for the Italian quotations would remind those whose keen sense of the beauties of their own tongue might perchance dispose to pass a vigorous sentence on my English, how difficult it is to speak a foreign language tolerably.

These reasons alone might perhaps have induced me to trust to the liberality of an English public; but even without them, and with far more confidence would I have presented myself before you. Your kindness to me on former occasions, to which I shall only allude as no language at any length could do justice to it, would have been a sufficient encouragement to me. It was in this same place that without any claim to your favour, I met the most flattering reception. The repeated proofs of benevolence which I have received from you warrant me in expecting that you would continue to me the same support. I know you so well that I am as certain that you cannot be unkind, as I am conscious that I cannot be ungrateful.

The Lectures which I purpose delivering will form an appendix to those which you have already heard on Ariosto, on whose poem I shall not lecture this time. I am sensible of the disadvantage of such an omission.

II.

I feel it would be indiscretion were I to trespass any longer upon your time, as I was inclined so to do on this last occasion. I shall therefore conclude, offering you my sincerest thanks for the kindness with which, sometimes even in spite of the enraged elements, you have honoured this course of lectures. I know full well that the subject must have been so agreeable to a choice audience like that by which I have been favoured, so as to be a powerful attraction for them to attend. But I cannot and will not think that I am indebted for your presence to the merits of the poems I lectured upon rather than to your benevolence to me. I have known Liverpool so long and so well, and have had so many occasions of experiencing the hospitality of its inhabitants, that my heart cannot allow me to think that you came to hear me as you would have done a stranger. I am not a stranger in this town to which the noblest of sentiments—gratitude—ties me. I beg you will continue to entertain for me the kind feelings which you have hitherto done, being certain that I am fully sensible of their value, and proud in thinking that you have not found—and I hope you never will find me either unworthy of them, or not appreciating them as fully as they deserve.

It is pleasing to trace in these words the grateful heart of Panizzi, reflecting as they do the warmth of his feelings, and acknowledging the kindness shown him by Liverpool friends at a time when he sadly needed sympathy and support; we now leave him, through such aid, in better worldly circumstances than he had but recently encountered.

CHAPTER III

Foscolo; At Holkham; First Article; Departure from Liverpool; Brougham; Miss Turner; London University; Botta; Lady Dacre; ‘Orlando Innamorato’; W. S. Rose; Keightley; Moore’s Verses; Correspondence with Mr. Grenville; First Appointment.

Panizzi being established in Liverpool in 1826, it may be concluded (and, indeed, in a letter to be presently quoted he admits as much) that he was now earning sufficient to satisfy his immediate wants, and to enable him to enjoy a certain degree of luxury. He resided at 93 Mount Pleasant, an eminence overlooking the town, and celebrated in Roscoe’s poem of the same name. From the invitations he received, constantly dining out, it may be inferred he moved in the best society and was leading a comfortable life. Far otherwise was it with Ugo Foscolo, his fellow-exile. For Foscolo, of whose celebrity in England, as of the reverence paid to his name by the youth of his native Italy, Giuseppe Mazzini writes so warmly, was now living in London in a state bordering on destitution.

“Stern and somewhat aggressive in temperament,” says Mazzini, speaking of Foscolo, “his mind nourished and fortified by severe study, little calculated for laying new foundations, but endowed with mighty faculties for destruction, he effectually overthrew (except for those who bow down kindly before precedents) a whole edifice of errors which barred the way to the study of Dante. In his different writings, especially in his “Discorso sul Testo,” etc., etc., etc., he cleared the ground for a better understanding of the ‘Commedia’ and the poet.”

This estimate of Foscolo’s character was founded entirely on reading and reports, and seeing that the two famous refugees had no personal knowledge of each other—indeed had never met—must be taken as an eulogium rather of the genius than the moral worth of the great writer.

Though doubtless much might be said on this topic, our space and the purpose of this memoir forbid our dwelling at any length on the subject. For Foscolo’s genius as writer and poet, Panizzi—as who would not, even without his shrewd discernment?—ever entertained the profoundest respect; but in a somewhat important qualification, strict adherence to truth, he detected a slight deficiency. However, he made every allowance for this failing in a man of superior endowments, and felt the deepest sympathy with one of so great attainments reduced to such ignoble shifts. It is but too true that Foscolo wrote his famous book, “Discorso sul Testo, etc.,” and other of his last works under the pressure of extreme poverty and in continual dread of his creditors, which rendered his bodily sufferings the more intolerable, and caused him alarm lest want of bread should put a stop to his literary labours.

It is unnecessary to give further details of Foscolo’s life. They were better known to Panizzi than to any one else, and he alone could have narrated the true story of the experiences of his illustrious friend. The biographers of the former have unaccountably and unpardonably neglected to take due cognizance of the intimacy which subsisted between the two.

The first letter, written by Panizzi to Foscolo from Liverpool, and dated 25th February, 1826, is long and most interesting. Herein he recalls to his friend’s memory that it was just thirty months since he laid the foundation of all that the writer possessed, and proceeds in the following grateful strain: “Were it possible for me to forget my own country, I could not certainly forget Liverpool. If the misery of selling articles and verbs were not such as to freeze one’s blood, I might say that I live, yet I only vegetate; even this is due to you.”

Of Foscolo’s “Discorso sul Testo” of Dante, Panizzi always expressed the highest admiration. “It[admiration. “It] would be impossible,” he writes of his friend’s magnum opus, “to describe how much superior your work seems to me, compared with those hitherto made known, not only in Italy, but by any critic elsewhere. Being a great admirer of Dante, in whom I find the greatest comfort of my exile, I paid last month a visit to the Bodleian, where I saw thirteen manuscripts of the ‘Divina Commedia.’ I have ready a minute description of each, which I have written in the shape of a letter, with the intention of sending it to the ‘Antologia,’ a paper more Italian in feeling, and less slavish than the others; but if you would like to see it, I shall most willingly send it to you. I may add that not far from here there is another manuscript of Dante, which, according to Mr. Roscoe, is well worth consulting; I propose seeing it next Easter. Mr. Coke, of Holkham, also possesses other MSS. and has kindly offered to send them to my house, that I may have an opportunity of studying them at leisure.”

The splendid library at Holkham had been, in 1812, carefully examined and catalogued by Mr. Roscoe, who was immensely impressed with its value and importance.

“Such MSS. of Dante,” he writes to a friend, “drawings of the old masters, treasures of European history—you have no idea ... besides beautifully illuminated MSS. on vellum of many of the Latin classics, a most exquisite Boccaccio, a very fine old Dante.”

In the catalogue the following note is written by Roscoe: “For a transcript of this very difficult MS. of Boccaccio, by Signor Antonio Panizzi, see the illustrations in Vol. VIII. of this catalogue.”

Next, if not equal in value to the “Discorso sul Testo,” in Panizzi’s estimation, was another work of Foscolo’s. This was “La Commedia di Dante Alighieri illustrata da Ugo Foscolo.” (London: 8vo., 1825). It may be mentioned that the preface to the first vol. of a later edition (1842) of this book, signed “un Italiano,” was written by Mazzini. Panizzi reviewed “La Commedia” (it was his first attempt at criticism in the English language) in the Westminster Review (vol. 7, p. 153).

This will amply repay perusal. The sincerity of the writer’s patriotism, and the manner in which it serves to enhance his interest in the great poet of his native country, will probably attract the reader’s attention at the outset. The philological contest in which Dante was engaged—his conclusions (set forth in his “De Vulgari Eloquio”), on the true origin of the Italian language, by which he so much disgusted his Florentine compatriots,—his own life and greater works,—the relations of the different powers by whose influence Italy was chiefly affected,—the spiritual in jeopardy of its existence in its own home, and externally the temporal, on which it mainly relied for support,—are all brought under notice, and skilfully treated.

Reference has been made to the “Westminster Review,” and as that periodical is easily accessible it is unnecessary to destroy the reader’s interest by extracting from the article in question.

Meanwhile Foscolo still continued his correspondence with Panizzi, furnishing him with details of his troubles. Serious differences seem to have arisen between him and Mr. Pickering, the publisher of his projected works, whose treatment of him he describes as shameful. Neither is Mr. Brougham spared; Foscolo had employed him to heal the breach between Mr. Pickering and himself; and these are the terms in which he mentions the services rendered:—“Brougham, at first, offered to take the matter to heart, but allowed it to drop, because I have no money to carry on the suit. He has acted as a lawyer, and wisely too; I shall also act wisely by having nothing more to do with him.”

It is somewhat difficult to discover from these words the exact part Brougham took in the matter. To substantiate the charges brought by Foscolo against men of acknowledged worth is against our inclination, nor have we the opportunity of clearly knowing their nature. In writing a memoir of Panizzi it is but just to remark that, so far as the worthy publisher is concerned, he entertained the highest opinion of Pickering up to the last, as a man of taste, of great knowledge, and of indisputable private worth. These accusations, in all probability without foundation, possibly created in their recipient’s mind his before-mentioned suspicion of his friend’s entire trustworthiness, a suspicion he almost publicly divulged in 1871, when Foscolo’s remains were about to be removed from Chiswick to a more honourable grave in Santa Croce, Florence.

In the summer of the year 1826, Foscolo reached the lowest depth of his poverty. Persecuted on all sides by his creditors, he hid, or rather, as he wrote, buried himself alive. “I send you my new address, you are the only person who will be acquainted with it, 19, Henrietta-street, Brunswick-square, let nobody know it, now or ever, and if in town, I can offer you a bed, and thus prevent your portmanteau from being ransacked by some London hotel-keeper.” At this period (painful to relate), he evidently meditated suicide. “The virile act of voluntary death becomes dreadful, when committed through poverty. I must, in order to proceed with my work, take care of myself; and have imitated you, in finding a few humble families, to whom I give lessons at three shillings each.” Of these lessons he could give no more than six a week, having in hand another important work, also on Dante, in which he requested the assistance of Panizzi who possessed some valuable notes on the subject. This aid was readily afforded. Panizzi, however, who wished to serve his friend to the utmost urged Foscolo to visit Liverpool; and, as a compensation for his expenses, proposed that he should deliver six lectures at the Royal Institution, on Tasso and Ariosto, during the space of three weeks, and receive for this £50. In the letter suggesting this he says:—“I do not care for these lectures myself; having so many friends I am obliged to give away tickets to, in return for their dinners and tea-parties. Come, and write, never mind the postage, for I had sooner deprive myself of a good dinner than one of your letters. Moreover I am not in want.”

As to the subject of giving lessons the writer remarked: “How much better it is to sell articles, nouns, and verbs than to stretch forth your hand and ask for assistance from those generous, miserable, proud rich people whose rude manners make one unwillingly ungrateful. When I think that Macchiavelli acted the pedagogo to live I may well be proud of my present position. There will be no more of this soon. Courage, my dear friend, the storm will clear up before long, and the serene sky will also return for you.”

It would appear by this letter that the political atmosphere of Liverpool had affected Panizzi in a manner that may seem strange to some of our readers. That the little “nuances” of character, which he notes as distinguishing the members of our different political parties, may be discerned by a keen observer, and the causes of their existence perceived, is not impossible; they seem to have struck him very forcibly, as a foreigner, in his short experience. Of the three sections as they existed at that time (it would be interesting to know his opinion of parties more recently) he remarks not less strongly than naively: “D—n the English Liberals! my experience (Roscoe and Shepherd excepted) shows me that the Tories are more polite than the Whigs, and much more so than the Radicals.”

Poor Ugo Foscolo, who, for some reason, had been unable to accept the invitation to Liverpool, and whom misfortune seemed to have marked for her own, died in London in penury on the 10th September, 1827. His death was at once announced to Panizzi by Giulio Bossi. The few books he left behind were purchased by some of his remaining friends; Panizzi bought as many as his means allowed him, and these he distributed among the most distinguished admirers of the deceased, one of whom was Mr. Macaulay, who acknowledged the presentation in the following letter:—

October 4, 1827.

Your letter was acceptable to me as a mark of kind remembrance, but it is quite unnecessary as an apology. I assure you that I considered myself, and not you, as the offending person on the occasion to which you refer. I hope, however, that either here or in Liverpool we shall hereafter enjoy many meetings without any such cross accident.

I have not yet found time to read your kind present, poor Foscolo’s book. I hope soon to be able to study it, which I shall do with additional interest on his account and on yours.