_Bianchini’s Appointment; Settembrini Fund; Convention with Argentine
Republic; Correspondence; Orsini; Napoleon III._
After the suppression of Mazza, a marked change for the better took
place in the general conduct of the Neapolitan Police. Bianchini, the
new Minister, presented in every way a favourable contrast to his
predecessor in office. Under his gentle rule, the normal system of
oppression was relaxed, and the strongest front faced those dangers,
arising from revolutionary incendiarism, which the cause of Liberty was
perpetually incurring. ‘There is a lull,’ wrote Sir Wm. Temple to
Panizzi (Jan. 17th 1856) ‘in the proceedings of the Police; Campagna has
been kept in order, and there are no longer attacks upon _hats_ and
_beards_; and people breathe more freely,’ Though the ardour for the
_chasse aux rouges_ had sensibly diminished, and the King’s subjects
were enjoying their liberty—quite a novelty to them—of being able to
walk abroad in comparative security, it must not be supposed that the
benefits arising from the improved state of things had extended to those
political adversaries who were already in durance. Of carrying out his
schemes for the rescue of Settembrini and his companions at San Stefano,
Panizzi, notwithstanding his former failure, had by no means abandoned
hope or intention. In framing his future projects to this end, he had
met at Genoa, where he now was, with valuable assistance, in the shape
of the counsel and co-operation of Dr. Bertani. After deducting the loss
sustained by the wreck of the “Isle of Thanet,” for it was not fully
insured, there remained still in hand a considerable sum of money, a
portion of the fund lately set on foot for the liberation of the
prisoners. This sum, until some further design for accomplishing the
rescue had been definitely determined upon, Panizzi felt some scruple in
retaining; and accordingly wrote to the respective donors of the money
offering to return the contributions.
They, however, with one or two exceptions, preferred to leave the whole
of their subscriptions in his possession, to be applied by him either to
the main purpose, or to such uses as, in his judgment, might seem best
for the benefit of Settembrini and his family, who were at this time in
a state of the deepest distress. The letters of Lord Overstone and Lord
Zetland seem worthy of reproduction:—
“February 25th, 1856.
“My dear Panizzi,
“I regret to learn you have not been able to apply the money
to the purpose originally contemplated. I am sure, however, it will be
destined, under your superintendence, to very useful and benevolent
purposes, and I beg you to consider yourself as vested with full and
unrestricted authority so far as regards,
Yours, &c., &c.,
OVERSTONE.”
-------
“October 8, 1856.
“My dear Panizzi,
“As one of the contributors to the fund which you raised, I
will beg you to retain my contribution, to be appropriated in the
manner you think best for Settembrini and his family. The first object
would, of course, be his liberation; but if that cannot be effected, I
am quite satisfied to leave it to your judgment how to appropriate it
to the best advantage for him and his family.
Yours, &c., &c.,
ZETLAND.”
Here we may pause for an instant to reflect on the steadiness of
Panizzi’s character. With an aim in view he was never faint-hearted or
desponding, even when the victim of constantly repeated rebuffs; it is
well to note this ever-recurring trait in his character, for the
recollection may serve as an encouragement to others who might be
inclined to despair instead of imitating his example.
The “Settembrini Fund,” amounting to about £1,000, was finally entrusted
to the charge and management of Mr. Gladstone, and by him securely
invested in England.
Meantime, a new influence had been brought to bear at Naples on the
fortunes of Settembrini and the rest. The King had concluded with the
Government of the Argentine Republic a Convention, whereby he was to be
at liberty to deport to that State such political offenders (including,
as it would appear, others of a different and more criminal caste)
detained at this time in the Neapolitan prisons, as should choose to
avail themselves of the commutation for exile proffered them. It is not
clear whether this alternative was actually offered to Settembrini,
Poerio, and their immediate companions; but it is evident, not only that
they would have been at perfect liberty to avail themselves of it, but
that the King would have been delighted to rid himself of them by the
means proposed. The question whether or not they would be adopting a
judicious course of action in agreeing to the terms offered by the
Convention, and accepting the modicum of liberty they could purchase at
the price of expatriation, divided their friends and benefactors into
two factions.
On one side, Panizzi himself was strongly opposed to their taking such
steps, and vehemently supported a different course, viz., that they
should petition the King directly for their pardon and release. He
appears, and, to judge from his own words, not unreasonably, to have
suspected something latent in the Convention which might prove an
insurmountable obstacle to the voluntary return of the exiles from their
new country to the old, or, indeed, to Europe in general. In a letter to
Lacaita (February 17th, 1857) he thus expressed himself strongly on the
subject:—
“I wish you would try to dissuade any Neapolitan prisoners to accept
the alternative of going to the Argentine Republic. They have no
guarantee or protection whatever that the conditions under which they
consent to go will be observed. _They will be made slaves._ I know
very well the agent who has set this going: he is a most clever
Alsatian Jew, who has several times put together enormous fortunes by
schemes and speculations of an adventurer, and who has been as many
times reduced to beggary. I know that some of the prisoners, among
others Poerio and Settembrini, have been offered by the Neapolitan
Government a free pardon, if they will petition the King, and they
have refused! This is not firmness, but foolhardiness. There is
nothing disparaging for a man who is bound hand and foot, and has a
dagger put to his throat, to ask to be released. Any man, however
brave, will run away from a mad dog. If they were asked to acknowledge
themselves guilty, would be right to refuse, and rather die in prison;
but it is sheer folly to refuse to ask to be let out. This is the
opinion of _all_ their friends here. It seems that Fagan urges them to
go to America.
Ever yours,
A. PANIZZI.”
The position of matters at this time, as regards carrying out the terms
of the Convention, was reported to Lord Shelburne, who had been
requested to consult Lord Clarendon on the subject. This, however, he
appears not to have considered of any very great importance. Mr.
Gladstone seems equally to have oscillated between the two alternatives
of exile to La Plata and a petition for a not dishonourable pardon:—
“February 5th, 1857.
“My dear Panizzi,
The paper on the Argentine Colonization reads well, but
everything depends on the good faith of the parties. What are the
guarantees for the fulfilment of the terms? I see them not. On the
other hand, I agree with you that if a petition could be framed,
praying in terms of due respect for liberation, without directly or
indirectly confessing guilt, there could be no dishonour in presenting
it.
Yours, &c., &c.,
W. E. GLADSTONE.”
On the other hand, Lord Palmerston, though he expresses no belief one
way or other, yet perceives in the possible want of _bona fides_ in
carrying out the Convention on either side, not in the proposal of
emigration, the chance that the prisoners might have to submit to that
deprivation of future liberty, so much feared by Panizzi:—
“11th February, 1857.
“My dear Panizzi,
“... As to Settembrini, I doubt whether he and any of his
fellow-prisoners would not do well to agree _to go_ to South
America. They would not be bound to _stay_ there; and it would be
for them to decide whether their liberty is worth purchasing by
two voyages across the Atlantic.
Yours, &c., &c.,
PALMERSTON.”
Settembrini, meanwhile, distracted by the diversity of opinion among
his friends, and perplexed by the strenuous opposition displayed by
Panizzi to the emigration scheme, applied to Mr. Fagan for
explanation of this apparently uncalled for opposition, and for
further advice as to his own action. As regards the alternative of
petitioning the King for pardon, we confess that, on the point of
honour, we coincide more strongly in Settembrini’s opinions, stated
in the following letter, than in the views expressed in Panizzi’s
letter to Lacaita. What the former wrote to Mr. Fagan is so well
worth reading, and so characteristic of the writer, that we make no
apology for presenting long extracts.
“Santo Stefano, March 2nd, 1857.
“My dear Mr. Fagan,—
The kindness which you have at all times shown me
emboldens me to write and explain to you a plan of mine which
appears to me reasonable, and to beg you to let me know through my
wife (who will be the bearer of this letter) whether there is
anything on which I might be misinformed. Mr. Panizzi, in the name
of his friends and himself, advises me to ask for a pardon. He
evidently sees no other way, and I myself have given up hope. He
tells me on no account to accept an offer to go to the Argentine
Republic, but for what reason I am unable to discover, though I
have mused over it for days. Mr. Panizzi is to me such an
authority, I respect, love, and owe him so much, in fact, that I
am really grieved to find myself differing from him. I feel sure
that he has either been misinformed as to my intentions, or that
he knows more than I do. As in his letter he seems to have
expressed his settled conviction, I will not write to him, for it
would seem discourteous to contradict him. For this reason I beg
you will tell me whether you know what has induced Mr. Panizzi to
give me this advice, or, at least, to explain to him my motives,
if you approve of them. You, my dear Sir, having lived amongst us
for so many years, and knowing so well both the intentions and
opinions of the Government and the Liberal party, can understand
how, under present circumstances, a request for pardon is not
merely a personal matter, is not only the sacrifice of one’s
dignity, and of that legitimate pride which every honest man ought
to feel; it is not merely coming to terms with a robber or
highwayman, and begging him to spare your life, but it is a matter
of public interest, and means the recantation of political creed,
and the recognition as right and legal of all the enormous
injustice committed during the last nine years. It would be
telling the nation we have all been in the wrong; it would be
giving the lie to England and France (who have solemnly condemned
the conduct of the Neapolitan Government;) it would be saying to
the public opinion of Europe, you have been deceived. The
Neapolitan Government well knows the value of such requests, and,
while using all manner of insinuations and suggestions to extort
them, will not take them into consideration unless they are of the
most abject character, wishing not only to humiliate, but to
degrade the applicants. I would sooner remain here than leave my
prison through such a door. I know that many others have asked for
mercy, and I do not blame them, but I trust no one will blame me
for my irrevocable resolve.... Such pardon as the Government
offers is contemptible, and death or the galleys would be
preferable. My honour and conscience are my own, no power in the
world can rob me of these my last possessions. I am thoroughly
convinced that in asking for a reprieve I should injure both
myself and our common cause, therefore I have decided not to make
an application on any terms. There still remains one honourable
way of leaving my prison. By going to America my personal dignity
would not suffer, for it is the Government who offers, not I who
ask. It will do no harm to the common cause; for though it may
appear that in leaving I show a want of confidence in the country,
yet I shall give no grounds for suspicion that in remaining I wish
to ask or accept pardon. Oh, my dear sir, in this prison I am
daily losing intelligence, conscience, and all human feeling, and
the thought that for the last seven years I have lived on other
people’s charity breaks my heart and aggravates my troubles. This
state of things is insupportable. To escape from it a year ago I
ran great risk, and now I would go not only to the Argentine
Republic or Patagonia, but even to Victoria or the Pole. I never
had any intention of settling abroad, but would remain there as
short a time as possible, returning to Europe and Piedmont, there
to meet my poor wife and beloved son, and live on the fruits of my
own labour. It would merely be banishment to Piedmont with the
preliminary conditions of twice crossing the ocean, even for those
who could not return so soon to Europe, the journey would not be
altogether an evil, for either our country would remain as it is
(and the Argentine Republic would be preferable to a prison), or
matters will change for the better, and then they could at any
time return home. This opinion seems reasonable to me; but on
perusing Mr. Panizzi’s letter, I am so impressed by his authority
that I have hesitated. I have racked my brains to find reasons for
the contrary, and have found none to satisfy me. The Convention
has not met with favour in this country for I believe two
reasons—prejudice against a Government which, being hated, cannot
please in what it does, and also from sheer ignorance, which
associates the ideas of a disastrous and interminable journey to a
country haunted by yellow fever and infested with savages and all
sorts of horrors. None but the ignorant multitude would attach
importance to such rumours. Many have tried to persuade me that
once despatched to those regions we should never be allowed to
return, and that the Convention has been artfully drawn up to lead
us into a trap. Abiding, however, by the first and trustworthy
information which you, Sir, most kindly imparted to my wife, I
still believe that the man who does not accept the conditions of a
colonist (and who lets the Government know that he wants nothing
from it, but will live at his own expense) could not be compelled
to submit to any restrictions, but might remain or return at his
own pleasure. It is quite just that a colonist who contracts a
debt should be watched, and not allowed to depart without
satisfying all claims; but he who accepts nothing owes nothing. It
would be an enormity of a novel kind should the Argentine Republic
consent to act as the police of the Bourbons, and become the
jailers of their political prisoners. It would be a pretty sort of
recommendation to Europe, a fine inducement to strangers to settle
in Argentina, if they were to act thus in total opposition to the
spirit and letter of their constitution, which, thanks to your
kindness, I have read. I therefore repeat my belief that there
would be no difficulty in leaving the place, and that no secret
conventions exist in that respect; but if you, dear Sir, should
now think differently, or even suspect anything of the kind, I beg
you let me know frankly; I earnestly entreat this, as it is to me
a matter of the greatest importance. In consequence of your
assurance that it would be possible to return to Europe (and from
what I have myself read in the Convention) I am firmly persuaded
that it will be the most reasonable course to go. Mr. Panizzi now
advises me not to do so, without, however, stating his reasons,
and I beg you to relieve me of my doubts as soon as possible. My
future intentions would be (if allowed to return) to embark
immediately in any merchant vessel at hand, and sail for Genoa or
Marseilles. Three years ago my son Raffaele went to Monte Video in
a trading vessel, and made the voyage out and back in less than
ten months, including the time of his stay there, which was not
short. The voyage from La Plata to Genoa could be accomplished in
two months, or even less. Now I cannot discover any injury to
either the public cause or myself in all this. If others see harm
I would beg them to indicate clearly in what it is, in order that
I may alter my opinion and do nothing painful to myself or
displeasing to those who love me and whom I both love and respect.
To your courtesy, my dear Sir, I look for the answer which will
either change my opinion or confirm me in the intention which at
present seems reasonable to me. In conclusion I must inform you
that all political prisoners, including those confined at Ponza
and Ventotene, have been asked whether or not they are willing to
go to the Argentine Republic (we galley slaves alone excepted). I
cannot assign any reason for this exception. I do not know whether
the Government are unwilling to send us out, whether they have
reserved us for a second expedition, or have abandoned the whole
matter from irritation at the refusal of almost all the prisoners.
But I believe that, in spite of the delay, the matter will still
be carried into effect, even for us “forzati” who are kept here as
so much refuse from the gallows.
Yours, &c., &c., LUIGI SETTEMBRINI.”
Whether the Convention had already turned out a “complete failure”
or not, the pace at which the whole business was progressing must
have given ample time to Settembrini to make up his own mind, as
well as to collect and digest all the advice worth following as to
the line of action best for him to adopt. The parties to the
Convention, and notably the King himself, seem certainly to have
been in no hurry to bring the affair to a climax. “Nothing is
known,” wrote Mr. Fagan again to Panizzi (April 25th, 1857,) “with
certainty respecting the affair of the political prisoners. The two
frigates which are now being fitted out will not be ready for sea
before the end of next month. The general impression appears to be
that about 250 persons will be sent, but they are all men belonging
to the lower class, and not all condemned for political offences.”
[Illustration]
In this stage of delay and uncertainty we will take the liberty to
leave the proceedings for the present, in order to bring on the
scene another character, afterwards a somewhat intimate acquaintance
of Panizzi’s—it would be scarcely warrantable to call him a
friend—in notoriety, more than equal to Poerio or Settembrini, but
not as they were, of honourable and untarnished celebrity. Few are
living but have heard or read of Felice Orsini; equally few are they
who do not hold both the man and his criminal intentions in deep
execration. He was born at Meldole, in the States of the Church, in
1819. From his youth upwards, his fixed idea, his sole purpose of
life was Revolution; conspiracy was to him as the breath of his
nostrils. It cannot in strict truth be alleged that he absolutely
and deliberately set his mind on murder, as the surest or most
desirable means to accomplish his object, but neither can it be
denied that if murder became a most necessary ingredient in his
plans, if it showed him the easiest way, he was ready, without
scruple even, to adopt such fell measures. Orsini’s first
imprisonment for political crime was in 1844. In February, 1845, he
was again convicted before the Supreme Tribunal of Rome, and
condemned to the galleys for life, for a plot against the
Government. Fortunately for himself, he was comprised in the general
amnesty of the 16th of July, 1846, published by Pius IX. on his
accession to the Papal chair, and released, or perhaps it ought to
be said let loose, in the same year. In May, 1847, he was expelled
from Tuscany for his political intrigues. Two years afterwards he
was elected a Deputy in the Roman Constituent Assembly; but, in
1853, was forced to quit Roman territory. He first sought refuge in
London, which, however, in a short time, he left, and for a period
was busied in roaming through Piedmont, Switzerland, and Lombardy,
continually, wherever he went, plotting and scheming under the
assumed name of Tito Celci. He was next heard of under the name of
Hernof, at Vienna, in 1855, when he was arrested and sent to the
fortress of Mantua. Thence, by energy and skill, no less by good
fortune, he made his escape in the night of 28th-29th March, of the
same year. He next visited Marseilles and Genoa, whence he returned
to London. At this period he was on most intimate terms with
Mazzini. Their friendship, however, was not of lifelong duration: it
ended in a quarrel.
By Mazzini, it appears, Orsini was first introduced to Panizzi; but
the introduction must have been merely formal, as there is no record
of any intercourse between the two arising therefrom, and Panizzi
seems to have lost sight of him very soon afterwards. However on the
14th of August, 1856, he was recommended by Mr. John Craufurd as a
proper person to become a reader in the Library of the British
Museum. The letter of introduction was delivered by Orsini himself,
on the 18th of the same month, when he met with Panizzi, and a
strong mutual liking for one another sprang up. In fact, as we know
from the best of sources, this sympathetic feeling very nearly
assumed the proportions of friendship; for Panizzi expressed himself
as never having been so much captivated by any one as by Orsini. The
familiarity thus quickly established, showed early signs of
endurance; and the following letter, which throws a good deal of
light as well on the character as on the history of the writer, may
be read with interest:—
“14, Cambridge Terrace, Hyde Park,
27th August, 1856.
“My dear Sir,
I have examined the Catalogue of the Library respecting
the Art and Science of Warfare. It is but poorly furnished with
the most instructive works published during and after the wars of
Napoleon. It is the same with the United Service Institution,
where I was admitted for the purpose of consulting the books which
I required for the composition of the military work that I have in
hand, and I have in consequence had to order various books from
France at my own expense; but, however, I shall soon have to study
the work of which I send you the title: “La grande Tactique du
Marquis de Ternay,” Colonel of the Staff. These works, especially
that of Martray, I could not procure on account of the expense,
but should you think it desirable for the Library to acquire them,
it would be of great assistance to me. The Paris edition of
Ternay’s work ought not to cost more than 25 francs, and that of
Brussels much less. The work which I am engaged upon will be in
English, and contain all the information required by officers in
the field, from the Sub-Lieutenants of the three branches of which
an army is composed, up to the Chief Staff Officer inclusive. It
is a serious undertaking as it must be restricted to a portable
volume, and include, with clearness and conciseness, the _omne
scibile_ of military affairs. With diligence and assiduity,
assisted by the studies of my youthful days, I promise myself I
shall succeed; still it is a work I shall not be able to finish in
less than six or eight months. While thus engaged, I could devote
some hours a day to other occupations, and I should like, if
possible, to give lessons in the Italian language, literature, and
in military art and science. Having been myself major of the
staff, I can give good lessons in the latter, and am tolerably
conversant with the former. Up to the present time my life has
been unusually eventful, and passed mostly amidst dangers—a
constant source of anxiety to my family, who have suffered no
slight losses on my account. As I am a little more quiet just now,
I wish to derive advantage from my acquirements, while awaiting
the longed-for moment when I may once again take up arms for our
independence. I have been advised to advertise in the _Times_ that
I am willing to give lessons; I should not like to do this, it
would seem as if I wished to turn my good name to profit,
although, instead of such an expedient, I think, if you would, you
might greatly assist me amongst your acquaintances, and in any
case I am quite ready to follow your advice. With my private life
you are not, however, acquainted; but on this I give you full
liberty to apply even to my adversaries, whether in opinion, or
party, or otherwise, for we all have such. Of languages, I know
French well, and for private lessons can make myself understood in
English. I have written this to avoid troubling you, and if you
will kindly let me know, I can call upon you at any time for
better advice as to what I have said here. On political affairs I
know nothing positive, but keep myself (as I told you) independent
of every one, and should the Sardinian Government deem my slender
services available for any enterprise, however daring, I am, and
always shall be, ready, I mean, of course, for the independence of
my native land; for that, since I could understand the idea, I
have ever been restless, and have sacrificed all. In saying I am
ready to lend a hand to the Sardinian Government, I am influenced
solely by the love of my country and by the conviction that at the
present time, if it will, it is the only Government that can
render Italy _independent_, _united_, and _great_; and I shall
think myself happy if, by devoting all my energies in an important
act, fraught with _serious consequences_ to the oppressors of
Italy, I can at the same time put an end to a life which has so
far been for me but sad, passionate, and melancholy. Pardon this
expression of my feelings. From what I hear, it appears that my
little book has met with some success, even in Piedmont and with
all parties; certainly I have in no way exaggerated, but
endeavoured to impress the necessity of sacrificing all political
principle to the National Independence. I have done so myself
since my first imprisonment in 1844. Nothing remains for me now
but to beg you to excuse this long letter, and with every respect
to assure you that I am,
Dear Sir, your very humble and devoted servant,
FELICE ORSINI.”
In another letter, dated “Glastonbury, 7th February, 1857,” he says
in further development of his political dreams:—
“The book, with the documents, &c. ... is now finished.... In an
introduction I insist on this point, that all our efforts should be
directed towards the national independence. “While thus engaged,
every thought of political theories must rest in peace; we are bound
to be on the side of that Italian Government which, excluding the
Pope and any foreign dynasty, will furnish us with the means of
making war on Austria. All this I say with the frankness that has
been natural to me throughout life, with the patriotic ardour that
ever burns within me, and with the firm _conviction_ that by such
conduct alone can the Italians work their redemption.”
To refer to the hideous, and, it may be said with justice, the
vulgar crime of which Orsini and his accomplices were guilty, is not
here necessary, further than will suffice to refresh the memory of
the reader. The attempt took place on the evening of the 14th of
January, 1858, at the moment when the Emperor Napoleon III. and the
Empress arrived at the Opera. The details are too well known to need
repetition. On March 13th following Orsini was guillotined.
That the crime had been long premeditated, and that Orsini had not
been impelled to it by any sudden frenzied impulse, is clear from
a passage in his defence of himself, if defence it could be
called, on his trial:—“From my youth,” said he, “I have only had
one object, and one fixed idea, the deliverance of my country, and
vengeance against the Austrians, and I have constantly conspired
against them up to 1848.... When in England, I was imbued with a
mania of being useful to my country. I witnessed ridiculous
attempts being made by Mazzini, who sent 15 or 20 men to Italy,
where they lost their lives. I tried loyal means; I went over to
England, and in all the meetings which I addressed, advocated the
principle of non-intervention.... After the fall of Rome, I felt
convinced that Napoleon would no longer assist us: and I said to
myself, that man must be killed.... I am very sorry that so many
people were wounded, and if my blood could repair this misfortune,
I am quite ready to give it for the people. Here it is!” These
words were described by the French newspapers at the time as
bombastic—an epithet singularly out of place. Terrible they might
well be called, and full of ghastly meaning: witnesses not only to
the atrocity of the crime itself, but to the length of time—two
whole years—during which the plot to commit it had been in process
of elaboration.
On the eve of his execution, Orsini addressed a letter to the
Emperor, in which he said:—“Near the close of my career, I yet wish
to make a last effort, for the sake of Italy. Her independence has
hitherto prompted me to defy all dangers, to court all sacrifices.
_Italy has been the constant object of my affections, and this is
the last thought that I wish to record in the words which I address
to your Majesty._“
[Illustration]
Let the reader compare the passage with Orsini’s letters to Panizzi.
The death of Napoleon, considered so necessary to the cause of
Italian Union by Orsini, might possibly not have promoted that good
end. But could it have been that the alarm caused to the Emperor by
the assassin’s attempt was one of the chief reasons that led him to
take arms against Austria in 1859?
It has been told the writer of this memoir, on various occasions in
the course of conversation, that, when the news appeared in the
second edition of the _Times_ of Saturday, January 16th, 1858, that
“Orsini or Corsini” had attempted the murder of the Emperor,
Panizzi, who was in the habit of visiting Brooks’s every afternoon,
was at once, and on that very Saturday, questioned by other members
of the Club whether the assassin was his friend. Panizzi replied
that he doubted it very much, seeing that he himself had an
appointment with Orsini for the following day, when they were both
to call on Lord Palmerston together. This was thought at the time to
be a deep but futile scheme for establishing an _alibi_. Of the
truth of the story we have no evidence beyond what we have
mentioned. So far as we have been able to ascertain, there is
nothing to show that Orsini was in London at all in this month of
January. It is a matter of regret that we cannot help the reader
further to judge of the truth or falsehood of the anecdote. As we
would not ourselves be held to have painted the would-be assassin in
too dark a colour, so would we willingly grant all indulgence to any
who, from merely reading the facts of his history, should be
inclined to depict him in the deepest of hues. That, by many
ordinary Englishmen, such a man, who scrupled not to attack and
destroy all, known or unknown, who stood in his way, might aptly be
called the mad dog of society, is perfectly conceivable. But,
granting all that can be brought against him, and in no wise seeking
to justify his actions, we nevertheless submit that the character of
Orsini is rather deserving of careful study, and even of allowance,
if that study be made fully and without prejudice, than of hasty
condemnation. A fanatic of fanatics, he was undoubtedly, both to
friends and foes, the most dangerous of men; but he had also the
good points of a fanatic—he was unselfish, and of necessity
disinterested. If, to use the mildest of terms, he little more than
undervalued his neighbour’s life, he at least threw his own into the
balance. Nor can it be denied, from what has been said and quoted
above, that patriotism (unenlightened it might be, carried to a
crime as it assuredly was, yet earnest and sincere, and having no
taint of self-seeking, though much of self-imposture), was the man’s
one inspiration throughout his life. That personally he was not of a
vulgarly brutal cast of mind is evident if only from his letters to
Panizzi. His learning and ability were more than common place; as a
soldier his skill and courage were unquestioned. We would be content
to speak of him, however, in no higher terms than were employed by
his advocate at his trial. “He was not there,” said M. Jules Favre,
“either to justify or to save his client, but he came there with the
wish to endeavour to cast on his immortal soul some rays of that
truth which he trusted would protect his memory against the
execration of posterity.”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]