_Departure of Neapolitan Prisoners; At Cadiz; Cork; ‘Captain James’;
Poerio’s Letter; Ferdinand II._
The scheme for getting rid of the political offenders, whose charge
daily increased upon the Neapolitan authorities in the ratio of
captivity to their victims, was coming near its accomplishment. On
the 27th of Dec. 1858, a decree was issued by the King, offering to
the prisoners, in accordance with the Argentine Convention, choice
between emigration and continuance of durance. This decree commenced
as follows, in words possibly not intended to be ironical: ‘By the
Grace of God, &c. Having given proofs of our sovereign clemency to
the greater part of those condemned for offences against the
security of the State during the events of 1848-9,’ &c. It was read
to the prisoners, who, with one exception, accepted the conditions.
The single voice constituting the minority overbalanced the
majority. Poerio refused to accept any of this qualified liberty.
“Better,” said he, “death on the gallows than this futile and costly
journey to a far off land, there to meet a death more obscure and
less honoured.” This refusal of the leading criminal to accept his
freedom under the Convention was of such importance that the idea of
any treaty was abandoned, and the whole plan for the deportation of
the prisoners fell to the ground. Nor was his resolution to bide his
time in captivity fruitless. On the 6th of January, 1859, a second
decree, in substitution of the former, was promulgated, the main
point of which was that certain of the prisoners, in number
sixty-six, including Poerio and Settembrini, should be at liberty to
leave the galleys on condition of going to New York.
This was readily accepted by the select number, and on the 16th of
January, Poerio arrived at Pozzuoli, where, on the same day, he
embarked on board the “Stromboli,” a vessel which had been fitted up
as a prison. Pironti, eminent amongst those oppressed by the
Neapolitan Government, had been attacked by paralysis, and was left
behind in safe custody.
Poerio, on his embarkation, was still in chains, and little
provision had been made for the comforts of the party on starting
for their voyage across the Atlantic. No adequate or suitable
clothing was provided for them, and, as a matter of fact, they were
literally in rags.
Meanwhile, in London Panizzi was alert for the safety and protection
of the exiles in case they reached New York. The United States
Government, about that time, had repeatedly protested against some
of the European Governments deporting their paupers, jail-birds and
prisoners to America, and threatened not only to prevent their
landing, but to compel the captains who brought them to take them
back. Of course no serious apprehensions were entertained for those
Italians, if they fell into the right hands at first. Panizzi
consulted Mr. Henry Stevens, who recommended that correct
information and supplies should be sent direct to the Collector of
Customs in New York, and in such manner arouse his personal interest
in the patriots. Accordingly the following letter was written by Mr.
Stevens to Mr. Schell, who not only took a lively interest in the
affair himself, but encouraged others to the same purpose. A steamer
was kept for many days in readiness to go down the Bay to meet
Poerio and his companions and welcome them to New York. It was,
therefore, no slight disappointment when the news was received that
they had found their way to England.
“Morley’s Hotel,
London, January 28th, 1859.
“My dear Sir,
You are doubtless familiar with the story of the Italians
whom the King of Naples, since his amnesty at the end of December
last, has sent to New York. There are sixty or seventy of them,
and it is expected that they will reach America towards the end of
February. They go from Naples to Cadiz by steamer, and will
probably be transhipped there to a merchant vessel about the 22nd
of January.
Much interest is felt and expressed for them here, and I have no
doubt, as they are all exiles for political offences, they will
receive a cordial welcome on our shores.
I take the liberty not only to call your attention to them, but to
request that you will be so good as to deliver, as early as
possible after their arrival, the enclosed letter to one of them,
Mr. Luigi Settembrini. The letter is from Mr. Panizzi, the Chief
Officer of the British Museum, who takes a deep interest in them
all, but more especially in Mr. Luigi Settembrini and Baron Carlo
Poerio, both gentlemen of distinction, the latter formerly a
Minister of State.
The letter to Mr. Settembrini contains matters of importance, and
will direct him and others to Messrs. Brown Brothers & Co. where
they will find _something to their advantage_.
I will only add that some little apprehension has been expressed
lest the _manner_ in which the King of Naples has sent these
unfortunates to our shores might bring trouble upon them; but
their misfortunes are too well known to warrant the belief that
exiles for political opinions will be opposed on their landing in
the _Land of Freedom_.
They will not be destitute, thank God, when they land. Besides the
sum of fifty dollars given by the King to each one, they will be
provided for by private hands.
I remain, &c., &c.,
HENRY STEVENS
(Of Vermont).”
It was on board the “Stromboli” that Poerio and Settembrini met for
the first time since their captivity. Little opportunity was,
however, afforded for the moment of renewing their acquaintance with
each other, for the former, shortly after his arrival on board, was
seized with severe illness, and compelled to keep his bed.
It is pleasing to relate an instance of true kindness and humanity
on the part of at least one officer connected with the Neapolitan
Government, and to record that Ferdinando Cafiero, Commander of the
“Stromboli,” directed that his illustrious prisoner should be placed
in his own (the captain’s) cabin.
They set sail, escorted by the “Ettore Fieramosca,” man-of-war; and
the writer of this “Memoir,” as an eye-witness of their departure,
well recollects the enthusiasm displayed on the occasion. On their
way to Gibraltar they fell in with a Sardinian vessel, flying the
national tricolour. This was a signal for the exiles to run on deck,
and, with deep emotion, salute the flag, the symbol of liberty and
good government in Italy. On the 26th of January, they reached
Cadiz, where another ship was to be chartered to take them to the
United States.
One morning, while at Cadiz, Settembrini was sent for on board the
“Ettore Fieramosca,” a message reaching him that an English officer
wished to speak to him. Here a great and most agreeable surprise
awaited him. His astonishment can scarcely be conceived when he
recognised in the English officer his own son Raffaele.[F] At this
time Raffaele was but a youth in the merchant service. Having been
at school in England, he spoke English fluently, and in language and
general appearance was well fitted for the character he had assumed.
He had taken the name of James, and represented himself as the
captain of a merchantman trading between London and Madeira.
Anything like friendly converse between father and son at this
meeting was, of course, out of the question, but the latter managed
to transmit the whispered words, _You shall not go to America_.
Captain “James,” it should be mentioned, had reached Cadiz by means
of a plan carried out through the agency of the Neapolitan consul at
that port, and concerted in London by Panizzi. All things being thus
happily arranged, the party embarked in the American ship, “David
Stewart,” commanded by Captain Prentiss. The “David Stewart” was
very well found, and comfortable accommodation seems to have been
provided _for her passengers_.
Two days afterwards, she started in tow of the “Stromboli,” and
escorted by the “Ettore Fieramosca,” which had orders to see her
well out to sea. Having established a good offing, the two
Neapolitan men-of-war returned. Captain “James,” meantime, had shown
himself equal to the occasion. He had changed his character of
master of a merchant vessel for that of steward on board the
American vessel. On the night of the Neapolitan’s departure, he
communicated to his father a design which he had formed for
compelling the Captain to return to Lisbon, adding that, in case
resistance was offered, he was provided with arms to enforce
compliance.
Settembrini, as might be expected, listened eagerly to his son’s
proposal; but, in accordance with his general demeanour, strongly
objected to violence of any sort.
The design was forthwith imparted to the exiles, who were
sufficiently numerous to carry the point without resort to force. By
an accident, they were driven to act a little prematurely, but, as
it happened, in no way detrimentally to their ultimate success. A
seaman trod on a percussion cap, and the explosion gave the alarm to
the captain. On this the passengers at once took action, and,
presenting to him a protest against being taken to New York,
demanded that he should make for the first port he could reach in
England. The captain, one-third of whose freight had been retained
as a guarantee for the performance of his contract, remonstrated,
and the demand was for the moment not pressed. On the following
morning, however, it was repeated in a more decided manner. The
exiles drew attention to their numbers, being 66 as against 17 of
the ship’s hands; they represented that, having suffered much from
their confinement, and many of them being of advanced age, they were
not in a state to undergo with safety a long voyage, and added that
one of their number, being well skilled in navigation, would
manœuvre the ship, in case the captain and crew should refuse
their assistance. This skilled seaman was none other than Raffaele,
who had appeared in yet a new _rôle_, and came on deck in a mate’s
uniform of the Galway line of steamers. The passengers, of course,
met with little further opposition. They quietly took possession of
the vessel, setting watches, and taking all precautions to ensure
due execution by the captain of their orders, which were to make for
Cork. The weather proved obstructive, and the voyage tedious, but in
the course of a fortnight, they were safely landed at Queenstown.
Great was the excitement caused here by the arrival of the
distinguished visitors, with whom heartfelt sympathy had for so long
been expressed in every part of the United Kingdom. Lively as was
the pleasure expressed at their safety in these countries, the
disappointment felt by the inhabitants of New York, who had prepared
for Poerio and his companions the warmest reception, was equally
keen. The Italian residents had appointed a Committee to supply
funds for the emigrants to return to Sardinia, which was understood
to be their destination after America. All was in readiness to give
them a cordial welcome. From Mr. Dallas, the American Minister,
Panizzi received the following short note:—
“Legation, U.S., London,
March 9th, 1859.
“My dear Mr. Panizzi,
You will see by the enclosed newspaper slips how much my
countrymen will be disappointed by the revolt of your friends, and
their safe arrival at Queenstown.
Always, &c., &c.,
G. M. DALLAS.”
It may be mentioned here that Panizzi, with the concurrence of Mr.
and Mrs. Gladstone, placed £100 at the disposal of Settembrini and
Poerio, to be delivered to them at Gibraltar, which sum, however,
they never received, not having landed there. This loss was soon
compensated by the good fortune which, as we have narrated, had now
befallen them. Not that the enthusiasm shown in their behalf
throughout the country was likely to allow forgetfulness of the
necessity for material assistance. One of the first to propose a
mode of benefitting them was Charles Dickens:—
“Tavistock House,
March 14th, 1859.
“My dear Panizzi,
If you should feel no delicacy in mentioning, or see no
objection to mentioning, to Signor Poerio, or any of the wronged
Neapolitan gentlemen to whom it is your happiness and honour to be
a friend, on their arrival in this country, an idea that has
occurred to me, I should regard it as a great kindness in you if
you would be my exponent. I think you will have no difficulty in
believing that I would not, on any consideration, obtrude my name
or projects upon any one of those noble souls, if there were any
reason of the slightest kind against it. And if you see any such
reason, I pray you instantly to banish my letter from your
thoughts.
It seems to me probable that some narrative of their ten years’
suffering will, somehow or other, sooner or later, be by some of
them laid before the English people. The just interest and
indignation alive here, will, I suppose, elicit it. False
narratives and garbled stories will, in any case, of a certainty
get about. If the true history of the matter is to be told, I have
that sympathy with them and respect for them which would, all
other considerations apart, render it unspeakably gratifying to me
to be the means of its diffusion. What I desire to lay before them
is simply this. If for my successor to _Household Words_ a
narrative of their ten years’ trial could be written, I would take
any conceivable pains to have it rendered into English, and
presented in the sincerest and best way to a very large and
comprehensive audience. It should be published exactly as you
might think best for them, and remunerated in any way that you
might think generous and right. They want no mouth piece and no
introducer; but perhaps they might have no objection to be
associated with an English writer, possibly not unknown to them by
some general reputation, and who certainly would be animated by a
strong public and private respect for their honour, spirit, and
unmerited misfortunes. This is the whole matter. Assuming that
such a thing is to be done, I long for the privilege of helping to
do it. These gentlemen might consider it an independent means of
making money, and I should be delighted to pay the money.
In my absence from town, my friend and sub-editor, Mr. Wills (to
whom I had expressed my feeling on the subject), has seen, I
think, three of the gentlemen together. But as I hear, returning
home to-night, that they are in your good hands, and as nobody can
be a better judge than you of anything that concerns them, I at
once decide to write to you and to take no other step whatever.
Forgive me for the trouble I have occasioned you in the reading of
this letter, and never think of it again if you think that by
pursuing it you would cause them an instant’s uneasiness.
Believe me, &c.,
CHARLES DICKENS.”
In London a Committee for the relief of the exiles was formed, and
large sums were received.
The first letter Panizzi received from Poerio was dated from Cork,
27th of March, 1859. In this there was, however, little beyond an
acknowledgment of a letter received, and expression of gratitude for
the trouble taken on his behalf. Although Poerio, starting from Cork
on the 29th of March, soon joined his friends in London, they had
but little uninterrupted enjoyment of each other’s company for some
time. Invitations poured in for the great exile from every quarter.
Amongst his entertainers may be mentioned Lord Granville, the Duke
of Sutherland, the Marquis of Lansdowne, and the Duke of Argyll.
The following note of invitation from Lord Palmerston must not be
omitted:—
“94, Piccadilly,
April 1st, 1859.
“My dear Panizzi,
Come and dine here to-morrow at eight, and bring Baron
Poerio and Settembrini if he likes to come; and don’t mind the
date of this note.
Yours sincerely,
PALMERSTON.”
And Mr. Gladstone wrote on Poerio’s behalf as follows:—
“April 12th.
“My dear Panizzi,
Lady Charlotte Egerton asks, through me, Baron Poerio and
any one of his friends to her party to-night. Pray let them appear
if possible. They will find me there at 10.15.
Yours, &c., &c.,
W. E. GLADSTONE.”
This continued dissipation, and the cold of the English climate,
from which he suffered intensely, began to weigh heavily on Poerio.
He was forced by his state of health to refuse many invitations, and
the only other amusement of which we have any record is a visit to
the House of Commons on the 18th of April, under the auspices of
Lord Shaftesbury.
It would be too much to expect that amongst the large number of
sixty-six prisoners, however exalted the political creed which they
might profess, there should not be at least one or two black sheep.
There were certainly some amongst the lower order of these exiles,
with whom Panizzi had a good deal of trouble. Notwithstanding all
his rigid justice in apportioning the money of which he had the
charge, they vexed him much by claiming more than their share, by
accusations of unfairness, and, in some cases, even by the vilest
ingratitude and abuse. Nor did they confine their annoyance to him
alone. Poerio, writing subsequently (3rd of June, 1859,) from Turin,
gives anything but a pleasing account of these gentry who had
accompanied him to Italy:—“I have had a great deal of trouble here
on account of the English subscription in favour of the exiles. One
of them who was destined to receive 250 francs told a great many in
secret that this terrible injustice of classification was all my
work,” with a good deal more to the same effect, on which it is
needless to expend time and space.
But the calls of patriotism were altogether too urgent on Poerio
to allow him to spend very much of his time in London society.
About the middle of May he left for Turin, where he entered on a
long correspondence with Panizzi. Here, for the first time in
these volumes, we are able to present the reader with a
comprehensive letter from Poerio, although short extracts from
others have been given above. His letters are, both in language
and style, the acme of combined nervousness and elegance, and we
can only express our regret that, to meet the exigencies of the
general reader, we are compelled to give this in English, feeling
that by translation the beauty and force of the original must
materially suffer. Most interesting in themselves, but of still
greater value as throwing light on contemporary history, are the
accounts of the sad continuance of disorder and misgovernment in
the administration of Naples; of the various other complications
in the affairs of the Peninsula; the course of action adopted by
the French Emperor in connection with the attitude of the
Sardinian Government, (which last, Poerio seems to consider
occasionally as somewhat hesitating and undecided); and the dawn
of the first possibility of effecting the union of distracted
Italy, in the achievement of which, however, a thousand
difficulties seemed yet to be overcome. Some few necessary
excisions of matter of little importance have been made, but this
has not materially reduced the bulk of the correspondence. Of
Panizzi’s share we unfortunately possess nothing. A good notion,
however, of his opinions on Italian, and (as connected with
Italian) of European politics, as well as of his unwearying
efforts in the cause, and the confidence that his compatriots
rested in his exertions and influence here, may be gathered from
the communications which he received from his friend and others
who had suffered from or witnessed the revolting cruelties
committed for so many years in Naples and elsewhere; but there is
no querulousness, no recalling of the past; every energy, every
aspiration, is devoted to the one glorious object—the unity and
independence of Italy:—
“Turin, 21st of August, 1859.
“My dearest Panizzi,
I send you my ideas respecting your project, which would
be excellent if it were only practicable.
Your programme, if I mistake not, may be summed up as follows:—The
formation of a single Assembly of representatives from the four
States of Central Italy, such assembly to proceed immediately—To
confirm in common the separate decisions arrived at with regard to
the deposition of the Princes and the annexation to Piedmont; to
publish a manifesto to Europe, short, but solemn, energetic, and
rich in facts which justify this severe but unavoidable
determination; to nominate a Regent, who shall assume in its
entirety and in the name of the Sardinian Government the exercise
of executive power, commencing with the appointment of a
commander-in-chief to all the forces now under arms, such forces
to be combined and formed into a single army. After this the
Assembly would adjourn, leaving the Regent full power to have
himself represented at the European Congress called for by this
Assembly, in order to obtain a decision in conformity with the
solemn vote of the country, and to repel any aggression on the
part of _anybody_ who might intend forcibly to reinstate the
deposed Princes.
First of all I must take exception in _law_ to the _judicial_
validity of the nomination of a Regent.
A popular Assembly, legitimately elected, has most certainly the
right of declaring that the people represented by it intends to
choose for its Prince the monarch of another State, and intends to
identify itself with that State. But after this decision has been
arrived at, the logical and legal order of things would be to
address that Prince, in order to ascertain whether he is willing
to accept this free and spontaneous surrender. If he accept, he
alone can and in fact must nominate an authority to govern the
annexed provinces provisionally in his name. The Assembly cannot
do this, because, in proclaiming a new Prince, it invests him with
the sovereign power. Victor Emmanuel proceeded in this way with
the Lombards, who submitted to him of their own free will—that is
to say, he nominated a Governor to rule in his name, neither did
he act otherwise towards the people from whom he accepted the
dictatorship. The only exception to this rule is when it is
_physically_ impossible for the Prince who has been proclaimed to
speak his mind. It is not so in our case, because the King of
Piedmont reigns both by right and in deed, and is personally free.
He is, moreover, at the head of an army, and has made himself a
champion of the war of independence. It is, therefore, necessary
to address him. He is not only able, but is bound to declare
himself openly, and in accepting he will be obliged to provide a
government for those provinces until an European Congress
recognizes the fact as accomplished, and includes him in the new
public statute. Most assuredly no one will ever assert that the
Congress ought to _compel_ Victor Emmanuel to accept the
submission of Central Italy, unless he had openly acceded at the
proper time, and acted frankly in conformity with his utterances.
Silence in this case might be termed prudent; but it certainly
would not be very generous, particularly if it be considered that
these people are determined to fight to the last against anybody
who would wish to prevent them from _belonging to him_.
According to your plan, I conclude that King Victor Emmanuel must
not only accept the surrender and nominate a Vicegerent or
Lieutenant who will govern under his guidance, but must also
prepare himself to protect and sustain the annexed provinces to
the utmost of his power, and at the same time declare himself
ready manfully to repel any aggression. It would, in truth, not
only be strange, but indecorous, in a King invoked and proclaimed
if he were to act negligently and look on with indifference at the
cruel sacrifice of his new people, who are ready to shed the last
drop of their blood to preserve their fidelity to him.
But this sacred duty will not be performed, and it is vain to hope
for it, because just now a timid rather than a spirited policy
prevails in the Piedmontese Cabinet.
I do not wish utterly to condemn it, because I know but too well
the gravity of affairs generally, and the difficulties of such a
perilous situation. Possibly the requisite boldness would amount
to temerity, but it is none the less true that when a man cannot,
or does not wish to, run any risk or leave anything to chance, he
has no right to look for brilliant or glorious results, neither
can he expect to add four millions of people to his own proper
subjects without incurring any risk, and merely by remaining a
careless spectator of the dangers to which others are exposed....
Let us suppose that the Piedmontese Government can do nothing to
display a large amount of energy and tenacity of purpose; let us
suppose that, notwithstanding the safe remission, the amalgamation
of the four States, the single Assembly, and the unanimous
declaration, are matters of supreme importance to the future of
Italy, but how can one ever hope for this fusion in the midst of
such discordant elements? It is true that the four States have
formed a military confederation for mutual defence, but this fact
of itself clearly shows that there is no intention of proceeding
further, and of forming a single State....
Everybody _apparently_ wishes for the fusion with Piedmont, but a
great many object to the idea of a single State. Nor do the Romans
and the Tuscans, who are so different in character, in customs,
and in aspirations, intend to hold together. The Duchies alone
really wish for the union with Piedmont. The Romans would in
reality like a separate government, and the Tuscans who reason
closely, know that in the actual condition of affairs the fusion
with Piedmont is impossible, but they pretend to want it (and
voted _unanimously_ for it only yesterday), because it is for the
present the only straightforward way of avoiding a relapse into
the clutches of the Grand Duke and his myrmidons. In fact, when
they had a chance of accomplishing the fusion, although they were
advised to take advantage of it, they neither did so nor even
desired it. Their own Ambassadors in Paris and London (Peruzzi and
Lajatico) put it on one side, advancing instead a number of
_schemes_ and solutions, commencing with a Prince of the House of
Savoy and finishing with Prince Leuchtenberg. The _Times_
published the document, the _Augsburg Gazzette_ has repeated it
with evident satisfaction, and they have not denied it.
Lajatico (as you tell me) now writes in the same way as
Marliani—that is, for the formation of a single Assembly which is
to repeat the vote for annexation to Piedmont, forgetting that
Parma has no Assembly, and on account of the unfortunate
dissensions and paltry points of honour between the two rival
cities of that nutshell, poor Manfredi has been obliged to have
recourse to a _Plebiscite_; that, moreover, to escape from the
machinations of an Armelonghi, who wanted to supplant him, he has
been compelled to call upon Farini to act as Dictator, For my own
part, I think that henceforth neither Marliani, nor Peruzzi, nor
Lajatico, nor Linati will be able to persuade the people or obtain
the one single Assembly as proposed by you. But even conceding
that our respective friends fully approve, and supposing that
everybody consents, also that there is an unanimous declaration of
the desire to become Piedmontese, that Europe is called to witness
it, and that a _sole_ Regent is appointed (a matter of
considerable difficulty in view of the passions, and ambition, and
rivalry, and suspicion aroused), and conceding, moreover, that
everything should go on according to a preconceived idea, let us
see what would in all probability occur in actual _practice_.
Your dilemma is this: by such an arrangement you either succeed in
convening an European Congress, which will deliberate upon the
present _abnormal_ and disturbed condition of central Italy, or
the failure will at least be glorious. In the first case,
therefore, you only rest upon a hope, and a hope that is
evaporating daily, since France at heart does not _so far_ wish
for the Congress, and I do not see who is to force it on her.
I must say that Lord John Russell’s noble declaration to the
effect that England does not intend to take part in any Congress,
unless the bases of peace and rearrangement of Italy are different
from those defined in the preliminaries at Villafranca, so that
room may be left for discussion, does great honour to his high
political capacity; but his declaration does not in the smallest
degree further the possibility of this European Congress,
particularly if it be borne in mind that those preliminaries are
now being reduced at Zurich, to a definitive peace upon still more
onerous conditions, and with the intervention of Sardinia.
The first part of the dilemma being disposed of, the second
remains. I fully agree that in fighting manfully the fall will be
glorious, but this glory will belong solely to the combatants, and
will redound to the perpetual ignominy of Piedmont, which is
condemned by some of its antecedents, and is perhaps obliged by
dire necessity to remain a quiet though armed spectator of the
struggle. The same Piedmont that has nevertheless assumed the
magnanimous task of the redemption of Italy: that Piedmont which
is the only State possessing the backbone of national strength;
that Piedmont which contains in itself the fortunes of the Italy
of the future, and to which we must all at least give our moral
support, so that it may not utterly lose its reputation by too
openly showing either its present impotence or the paltriness of
its policy of partial aggrandizement—a policy which is, perhaps, a
supreme necessity of the novel _situation_ wherein an imprudent
peace has placed it.
But let us see whether there is not a third hypothesis besides
these two, and perhaps something even more probable, because I
consider it certain that Central Italy cannot _all_ be annexed to
Piedmont, and likewise certain that France will not consent to the
forcible restorations.
I maintain, in fact, that there will be no restorations at all,
and my opinion is not shaken either by Reiset’s journey or by the
mission of Poniatowski, nor even by the reception of one of the
fugitive Princes at the Tuileries. I hold that the Emperor will
permit the convocation of the Assembly devised by you, exactly as
he has allowed the gathering of the local Assemblies and the
record of their votes in favour of Piedmont.
But will this fact create any necessity for a Congress? Herein
lies the essential part of it. You dare not make the assertion,
and I tell you most distinctly that the Congress will never take
place. But what will occur instead? Precisely that which Napoleon
is now preparing with so many twists and turns—namely, the
formation of a Central Italian State, of which his cousin will be
the monarch—a State that will be located upon the two seas, and
that will cut Italy in halves, putting an end to all communication
between the Sardo-Lombardian States and that of the Two Sicilies,
and excluding for ever any hope of future aggrandizement.
The means for arriving at this end are simple. He will praise the
high-minded proposal, but will lament its impracticability. He
will recall to mind the preliminaries of Villafranca, and the
consent that was given for the restorations, and he will make it
appear that those conditions can be modified in the Zurich
negotiations (which depend solely upon him for their continuance),
but never in the sense of annexation to Piedmont. He will have it
whispered in the ears of those in power that in order to elude the
ravenous claws of eaglets they will have to confide themselves to
the care of the Imperial Eagle. Montanelli and his set (who did
not abstain from voting for Piedmont without a reason) will then
come forward.
They will have a long train of people prepared for the purpose,
and the Prince will be trumpeted forth from all corners. They will
demand universal suffrage, and Napoleon, son of Jérome, will be
hailed King of Etruria....
Now, what am I to do in such a deplorable state of affairs? Exiles
in general are not treated with much consideration, particularly
when they want to give gratuitous advice. Everyone naturally says,
here is a man who was not able to preserve his own country
wanting, forsooth, to teach others how to save theirs; and there
are certain people going about those provinces (especially some of
my compatriots with whom I should not like on any account to be
confused.) Altogether (take note of this) I am suspicious of the
very persons that I ought to see, and I cannot trust the sincerity
of their assurances. Besides Farini, Minghetti, and Ricasoli (the
three men upon whom things entirely depend) have been already
advised from your place, and have received their instructions from
Marliani and Lajatico.
My journey would create a heap of absurd rumours without resulting
in any advantage, seeing that I shall certainly not succeed in
persuading them, if they will not be persuaded, and if, after all,
they are already convinced, the trouble would go for nothing.
But to what conclusion does all this lead us?
In Italy itself you will never be able to combat Napoleon’s policy
as long as Italy remains in its present condition—that is to say,
while he keeps Piedmont subject to continual pressure, occupies
Lombardy with eighty thousand men, is the sole arbiter of affairs
in Zurich, holds the Pope with vain hopes in a state of
uncertainty, and caresses the Bourbons of Naples, lending them
courage to resist the representations of England.
It was perhaps a great error to have invoked his aid at all, and I
do not intend to disguise the fact; but the error of the Tory
Cabinet in allowing him to come alone was certainly greater. It is
not now a question of expelling him, because this could not be
brought about without war, and everybody has either had enough or
is averse to it.
It is merely a question of limiting his influence, in the same way
that the war was localised. We must give him a fragment in order
to save the remainder, strengthening this Subalpine Kingdom and
perhaps the Southern Kingdom too, at the expense of the territory
of the Pope, whose temporal dominions cannot last any longer. But
this Southern Kingdom must cease to be the prey of a party that is
so infamously reactionary, and the civil government must be
restored upon the basis of true liberty. This particular change,
which will infuse new spirit into the life of Italy, is not
difficult of attainment _now_ that the true Mayor of the Palace
and virtual King is Filangieri, a man of large and tractable
conscience, if those metallic wires which actuate it are properly
manipulate.
But all this cannot be originated in Italy. In order to obtain
such a result we must work elsewhere, and work with all our might.
A plan will be submitted to Lord John Russell by a person who is
exceedingly well versed in Italian affairs, and whose political
instincts are of the highest. This plan is admirable in its
simplicity, and not difficult to carry out if there be hearty
goodwill towards the work, and it be taken in hand at once....
Yours most affectionately,
CARLO POERIO.”
On the 22nd of May, 1859, Ferdinand II., King of the Two Sicilies,
died. The news of his death was not received with that universal
burst of lamentation which follows when the world at large has
suffered an irreparable loss. Indeed, it is painful to relate that
throughout a considerable portion of the Christian and civilized
world the sad tidings were even welcomed, and with an unseemly
manifestation of rejoicing; not a few seeming even to be of opinion
that a great obstacle of Christianity and civilization had at length
been mercifully removed.
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