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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._
[Illustration: Sir Anthony Panizzi]
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
[Illustration]
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
[Illustration: 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_
[Illustration]
THE
LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE
OF
SIR ANTHONY PANIZZI KCB
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
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.
[Illustration]
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.
CHAPTER I.
Introduction—History of 3 to 38.
Brescello—Birth—Parentage—Education—Carbonaro—Piedmontese
and Neapolitan Revolutions, 1820—“I Processi di Rubiera”
CHAPTER II.
Flight—Lugano—Arrival in London—Santa-Rosa—Sentence of 39 to 62.
Death—At
Liverpool—Roscoe—Shepherd—Haywood—Linati—Pecchio—Letter
to the Tax-Gatherer and Inspector of Finances—Miss
Martin—Lectures
CHAPTER III.
Foscolo—At Holkham—First Article—Departure from 63 to 101.
Liverpool—Brougham—Miss Turner—London
University—Botta—Lady Dacre—“Orlando Innamorato”—W. S.
Rose—Keightley—Moore’s Verses—Correspondence with Mr.
Grenville—Appointed to the British Museum
CHAPTER IV.
The British Museum—Appointment Discussed—First Duties—The 102 to 141.
Royal Society—Promotion—Cary—Hallam’s Letter—Official
Residence
CHAPTER V.
Sir Henry Ellis—Parliamentary Committee, 142 to 175.
1835-6—Keepership—Removal of the Library from Montague
House—“Temporary Assistants”—Superintendence of
Catalogue—Rev. R. Garnett—J. Winter Jones—Thomas
Watts—J. H. Parry—Additions to Library, 1838, and
Deficiencies—Annual Grant
CHAPTER VI.
Bridport Election—Desire to Visit Modena—Mazzini—Post 176 to 198.
Office Espionage—Biographer’s Personal
Reminiscences—Portland Vase—Psalter, 1457—Interview with
Francis IV.—Libri
CHAPTER VII.
Thiers—“Spanish Marriages”—Downfall of Lord Melbourne’s 199 to 254.
Administration—Corn Laws—Coolness between Panizzi and
Thiers
CHAPTER VIII.
The Royal Commission, 1847-49 255 to 265.
CHAPTER IX.
Mr. Grenville—Bequest—A Portrait by Manzini—Chartist 266 to 293.
Demonstration—Copyright Act—Mr. Bohn
CHAPTER X.
Lord Vernon’s Dante—Sir G. Cornewall Lewis on Milton and 294 to 312.
Dante—“Chi era Francesco da Bologna?”—John Harris
CHAPTER XI.
Minor Incidents—Holland House—Sydney Smith—Ecclesiastical 313 to 329.
Commission Act (1836)—Joseph Parkes—Count d’Orsay—Lord
Melbourne—Mrs. Norton—Dr. Hampden’s Case—Watt’s Portrait
of Panizzi—Lord Holland—Sir T. D. Hardy’s Life of Lord
Langdale
CHAPTER XII.
Panizzi and Austria—Policy of Lord Palmerston 330 to 337.
Discussed—Mr. E. Ellice—Scotch Sabbath—Mr. Gladstone on
Tasso—Panizzi and Thomas Carlyle
CHAPTER XIII.
The New Reading-Room—Sir C. Barry’s Plans—Completion and 338 to 390.
Breakfast—Mr. Hosking’s Plans—Controversy—Bust by Baron
Marochetti—Austria applies for Plans of Reading-Room
ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOL. I.
PAGE
SIR A. PANIZZI (AN ETCHING), FRONTISPIECE.
ARIOSTO 79
BANKS (SIR JOSEPH) 111
BROUGHAM (LORD) 72
CLARENDON (LORD) 200
DANTE 295
ELLICE (THE RIGHT HON. EDWARD) 333
ELLIS (SIR HENRY) 142
FOSCOLO (UGO) 64
“FRANCIA” (F^O RAIBOLINI) 306
GRENVILLE (THE RIGHT HON. THOMAS) 266
GUIZOT (F. P. G.) 223
HALLAM (HENRY) 139
HAYWOOD (FRANCIS) 54
LEWIS (SIR G. CORNEWALL) 302
MAZZINI (GIUSEPPE) 182
ROGERS (SAMUEL) 73
ROSCOE (WILLIAM) 49
SLOANE (SIR HANS) 102
SMITH (SYDNEY) 314
THIERS (ADOLPHE) 199
VERNON (LORD) 297
----------
ALDUS AND PICKERING’S DEVICES 83
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
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.
-----
Footnote 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 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.
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