“You may recollect the name of Settembrini among those of the persons condemned to death, and then to an Ergastolo for life, of whom Gladstone spoke in his publications, and I myself more at length in my article in the Edinburgh Review, in which I inserted the letter which he (Settembrini) wrote to his wife whilst the judges were deliberating on his fate. When at Naples, I became acquainted with Settembrini’s wife and his two children—a boy and a girl. The persecutions to which that poor woman and those children have been subjected are incredible. Among other things, no teacher dared give instruction to the boy for fear of losing the permission which every teacher must obtain from the Government to be allowed to follow his profession.”
On February 21st, 1852, Lord Shrewsbury wrote to Panizzi:—“We were glad to hear of your safe return, and sincerely trust your visit to Italy will not pass without its fruit, both at home and abroad, by removing some English prejudices in favour of the Revolutionary party, and by aiding in the expected reform of the Prison discipline and Police Government at Naples.” On both these points, and more especially the first, his Lordship may be pardoned for having been somewhat sanguine.
There was but little need for Panizzi to seek the aid and support of Mr. Gladstone in his present plans. On his co-operation he could ever count, even without asking; nor was the continued maintenance of that tyranny and injustice, which he had so distinguished himself by denouncing, likely to diminish the great statesman’s sympathy for its victims.
“My dear Panizzi,
Be assuredassured that if anything like an opportunity shall offer, I will not be slack in seizing it on behalf of the poor Neapolitans. Were I inclined to halt, the recollection of your journey, undertaken for the love of them and of truth, would shame me into activity. I will not fail to communicate with Clarendon.
“My dear Panizzi,
I have read Poerio’s letter with horror, but also with admiration. The last, however does not lessen, it enhances, the first; and though I do not well see what can be done hopefully, yet a man does not come readily to the conclusion that one can do nothing under such circumstances. But first of all can your judgment suggest anything? I am coming to town at latest on Friday. Will you either come to me on Saturday morning or write (if not before). I am sure Lord Clarendon would do anything that he may think gives a chance, and I will strain any point. Think the whole matter over before we meet.
Do not be afraid of proposing to me anything that may strike you. I return the letter.”
From the year 1852 to 1858, inclusive, many letters, notwithstanding the numerous difficulties in transmission, had passed between Settembrini and Panizzi. The former’s letters were consigned through his wife to Sir W. Temple, and by him forwarded to England. Of the replies, unfortunately none have reached us. They were directed to Mr. Fagan, who delivered them to Madame Settembrini. She had them copied in very small characters, in invisible ink expressly prepared for the purpose. Various devices were resorted to for introducing these letters into the prison. At one time they would be hidden in linen or hemp, sent to the prisoners, that they might occupy their time in weaving; at others they would be sewn into the soles of the sailors’ shoes, and a multitude of other modes of concealment was resorted to. It is satisfactory to relate that the ingenuity bestowed on their safe delivery was amply repaid by success, and that the officials of this contraband post-office escaped discovery.
Settembrini’s portion of this correspondence is in itself so interesting, and contains so much matter of value affecting this narrative, that it has been thought fit to give somewhat copious extracts from it. By the following it would appear that the prison of S. Stefano was no very desirable exchange for the dungeons of the “Vicaria,” and, moreover, afforded no great encouragement to any hope or plot for escape:—
“... I am at present in a real dungeon. Neither I nor any of the prisoners are permitted to descend from the floor to which each of them is assigned. I remain as much as possible in my own cell, or rather den, to avoid coming in contact with desperate characters. I never see a human face, and can only at times catch a glimpse of the sky that is over the prison yard. Only when the marine courier arrives, am I allowed to come down and see him, assist at the examination of my effects, and receive my letters, returning immediately to my cell. Under these circumstances, you can understand how every plan becomes impossible. Time and my own sense of honour may guide me, under altered circumstances, but for the present I can do naught else but suffer, and suffer in silence. Meanwhile, I trust God will have mercy on me, for at times I feel my spirits dying within me, and fear, if ever I leave this place alive, I shall come out mentally and morally degraded.”
The extract next in order shows that, however close his prison, he was fortunate enough to be able to avail himself, notwithstanding great obstacles, of the advantages of that scholarship for which he was so distinguished. His selection of his author also deserves a word of praise. After speaking of his son Raffaele, he says:—
“I present you with another production of mine, in the shape of a small volume containing some of Lucian’s dialogues, which I have translated into Italian. Whenever you have time, I would beg you to glance at my work, and give me frankly and honestly your opinion of it. Should this attempt not prove wholly unworthy, I shall hope to complete the work, leaving out all passages that might now be considered objectionable, and when it may please God to restore me to mankind, I propose publishing it with an introductory preface, in which I should like to mention the benefactors of my family, Lord and Lady Holland, Sir William Temple, and you, my dear Sir. Should it not please you, I shall simply destroy it. Labouring under immense difficulties, without books or assistance of any kind; writing in a room of Cyclopean horrors, on the deal boards of my bed, distracted by the hammering of a cobbler next to me, I am indeed unable to offer anything of genuine worth, such genius as I may have possessed being dead within me; but as an Italian, and a man of letters, you will judge my work, understand my intentions, and tell me truly whether you deem it worthy of presentation to my noble friends and yourself. Do not be surprised at my coming forward, in this age of noise and turmoil, with a translation from the Greek. In my present state I am so far removed from this actual world that, in order to bear my life, I take my thoughts back to antiquity, where, with my Lucian, I can smile at mankind and at all things past and present. Be indulgent, I pray, and believe only in the sincerity of my intentions.”
In the middle of the year 1855 Panizzi had sufficiently matured his plan of action to be able to enter definitely on the execution of his great design. He had been hitherto much hampered by the difficulties of obtaining sufficient money to make a beginning of the enterprise. If this could be accomplished in time, he arranged to start for Italy himself in July of the same year. Although the main purpose of his journey was undoubtedly the deliverance of Settembrini and his fellow-captives, he thought it best to keep this purpose as far as possible concealed. An opportunity, however, had occurred, whereby he might probably combine the business of his office with the pleasure of succouring his unfortunate friends. On the 25th of July he applied to the Trustees of the British Museum for an extra month’s leave of absence, at the same time informing them that a circumstance had lately come to his knowledge whereof advantage might be taken to render a portion of his vacation useful to the Library; this referred to the then impending sale of books belonging to Filippo Senesi of Perugia. An extract from a letter to Sir James Lacaita, shows something of the embarrassments under which Panizzi was labouring for want of sufficient funds for his undertaking:—
“... The escape seems most feasible in company with an English friend. I shall direct it myself in person. No danger for us. What I require is money. I have £300 of L—--; to this I shall add £100 of my own, which I shall borrow. I want £800 at least. I must see Gladstone to-day. I know not what he means to do. Do all you can at Edinbro’ to find me money.”
This obstacle, however, was happily overcome, and on the 3rd of August, he thus wrote to Lacaita:—
“The affair promises well, and the difficulties are enormous, but as I have found money beyond what I had hoped, I am of good courage. There is no danger of being defrauded, for I pay no one now; but there is a possibility of being betrayed. The sum needed is enormous, and is required for the chartering of a steamer, which is to be found. Time presses. Mr. Gladstone has behaved wonderfully, or properly speaking Mrs. Gladstone, who has given me £100 of her own, and found £200 more amongst her friends.”
Panizzi being now well on his way southward, it is necessary to leave him for the present, in order to give a short account of an incident at Naples, most conspicuous perhaps for its effect on European politics, or on the relations between England and the kingdom of the Two Sicilies, in which it created a passing disturbance. It appears to have been about this time a deeply-rooted idea in the Neapolitan official mind, that the real and actual disasters, mostly self-inflicted, which the English had suffered in the Crimea, joined to the ill-success which the lively Neapolitan imagination represented as continuously occurring to the British arms, had reduced England almost to the level of Naples. The time, it was thought, had come when this once great Power, the abettor of contumacious subjects against their rightful sovereigns, the upholder of sedition and rebellion against legitimate authority, might be insulted with impunity, and a long-standing grudge might be satisfied. Nor was the opportunity for indulging this patriotic feeling wanting. In August 1855, Madme. Parepa, a singer, who had married a Maltese gentleman, and thereby become a British subject, was very anxious to obtain a benefit-night at the San Carlo, at Naples. She had been recommended to Sir William Temple, who had a short time before obtained a promise in her favour from the Duke Satriano, Tito, “Superintendent of the Theatres.” Of this promise Sir William requested his Attaché, Mr. Fagan, to remind the Duke; he accordingly called one evening on his Grace at his box in the theatre, so-termed Il Fondo, and delivered the message. As he was leaving he became aware of the presence of an agent of police, apparently on duty, with evil intentions, as was indeed the fact. This man was one Vignati, who had been sent by the Minister of Police, Mazza, with a message threatening the Duke with imprisonment and other dire consequences for having received a member of the British Legation with so much civility. The message delivered by the man was overheard by some one in the theatre; Mazza himself was also heard saying, in a loud voice, “I shall not allow myself to be imposed upon by England, now a fourth-class Power!”
This Caligula, still living and well-known to the biographer, was as notable in his younger days for the energy with which he exercised his office as for the suavity of his manner in executing his intentions. It is recorded of him that, amongst other arbitrary proceedings, he, on one occasion, sent for Signor Niccolini (now of the National Museum, Naples) and loaded him with abuse for presuming to wear a beard. Disregarding the advice to hold his tongue, given him by a bystander, Niccolini boldly answered the Minister that if the growing of beards was illegal he ought at least to publish an order prohibiting it. No, no, said Mazza, no publishing of orders for me, to be held up to ridicule by Piedmontese newspapers. You go and cut off your beard, and see you keep clear of conspiracies! On another occasion at Catanzaro, in an excess of temper, he went so far as to break his cook’s arm.
The occurrence at the theatre was communicated that same evening to Sir William Temple, who lost no time in sending a note of remonstrance to the Minister for Foreign Affairs. That functionary, however, seemed in no hurry, either to make apology or give redress for the insult that had been offered to the British Mission. However insignificant and unworthy of resentment Naples might be, however small in comparison with England, the insolence was too great to be passed over. The matter was at once reported to the Government at home, and communicated by Mr. Fagan to Panizzi, who answered as follows.—(August 22nd, 1855.)—“I am delighted to hear directly from you what I have already heard and considered incredible. Lord Palmerston will not, I presume, overlook this affair....” Nor was Panizzi mistaken. Lord Palmerston’s action in the matter was, as might be supposed, prompt and decisive:—
“My dear William,
... King Bomba’s insult to England, through the British Mission at Naples, must be properly atoned for. Clarendon being at Paris, nothing can be decided till he returns, and the Cabinet can be assembled. But I have written to Clarendon to say that my opinion is that we ought to insist upon the immediate dismissal of Mazza, and upon a promise that he shall never again be employed in any public capacity. I would not make this demand till our reserve squadron, now in attendance on the Queen, but which will return with her on Tuesday, and which consists of three line-of-battle ships, shall have anchored in the Bay of Naples, opposite the King’s Palace, and shall have taken on board the Mission and the Consul, and then I would have a boat sent on shore, with a demand that in two hours an answer should be sent by the King, saying that Mazza was dismissed, allowing half an hour for the letter to go, half an hour for the answer to come back, and a whole hour for writing the answer. If the time passed without a satisfactory reply, the palace should share the fate of Sweaborg[D] (e poi dopo), if that should not be sufficient. However, we shall see what resolution may be come to when the Cabinet meets on the question.
That Ferdinand II. was extremely loth to dismiss Mazza may be gathered from his delay in making up his mind to do so. The case, however, was urgent, and, pressed by his son Francis to hesitate no longer, inasmuch as the Minister was aware of his impending fate, the King removed Mazza from his office, and issued a decree[E] stating that he had been called to another office.
D. Bombarded 9th of August, 1855.
E. September 14th, 1855.
Amid all this turmoil and confusion in the Government of Naples—this system of continuous oppression—there was one person who, notwithstanding all his misdeeds, may fairly claim some little share of our commiseration—the King himself. On the evidence of Mr. Gladstone and others, it is clear that Ferdinand was not wholly without his good traits of character. He was not devoid of a certain amount of intelligence.
Tyranny and slavery, however, exercise a doubly evil influence, and harm the despot as much as the victim, the owner as the slave. At the time of the Mazza case, his Majesty, taught by experience, had arrived at that wholesome judgment of persons and things which trusts nobody and nothing. He had long ceased to put confidence even in his own Ministers; political matters he directed himself, and himself wrote all the more important political despatches, many of which display considerable acumen. It would not, indeed, be unfair to impute a portion of his faults to the peculiar character of his subjects, of whom he was wont to say that they differed so much from, and were so greatly inferior to, any other people of the Peninsula, that he alone could govern them.
Meanwhile, Panizzi’s arrangements for the deliverance of the prisoners of San Stefano had been gradually and surely progressing, and to all appearance hopefully. He had communicated to Settembrini the manner in which he proposed to make the attempt, and from him received the following letter:—
“As a precaution I write this letter with invisible ink, which will be made legible before it is forwarded to you. For the same reason, and in the same way, your letters of the 30th and 31st July have been sent to me. I cannot tell you what I felt on reading them. You are a man who surpasses every expectation. We dared not hope for a steamer; now you offer us one, it is all that we could desire. From your letter it appears that the steamer will not start from Naples, as I had expected. This matters little to us, but it is most important that it should be known in Naples not less than twelve days before. Communication with this place is neither easy nor frequent, and we must know the date fixed upon at least four days in advance, as there are certain indispensable preparations to be made. Now the time it will necessarily take for this letter to reach you, and for you to come to a determination and give Madame Louison (Settembrini), through some person, twelve days’ notice, will bring us to the month of October, which will be more suitable, as the cold weather and rains will then have set in, moreover the nights will be longer.
In short we are ready, only requiring four days’ notice, but the date fixed upon must be known in Naples twelve days before. In deciding upon the day, however, care should be taken that there be little or no moon during the early hours of the night, and, therefore, it seems to me that we ought to choose some time between the 6th and 18th of October, and, if it could be the night preceding a holiday, so much the better.
We shall, therefore, wait to be informed on what day the steamer will pass, and what will be the signals. We are on the upper floor of the building where there are some small windows which look to westward; in the remainder of the building there are only small apertures and loop-holes which are almost invisible. The third window, commencing from the north, is ours; and from this window we have a view of the whole space between Ponza and Capo Circello. The steamer should carry a conspicuous signal as our telescopes are not very good. She ought to find herself at 4.30 or 5 o’clock two miles from the northern extremity of Ventotene, and then, if it is thought necessary, unfurl a sail to enable us to see and recognize her. Then, if she passes to the east, there will be sufficient time and light to see the wall with an archway, almost immediately below which, on the shore, is a small creek where the boat will have to wait, and where we intend to be at 2 o’clock a.m. When the steamer has lost sight of the small windows she will proceed eastward, bearing to the south, as if making for Messina. During the night she can return from S.S.E. as I have written in another letter, but must not come too near Santo Stefano, and thence she would put out the boat. When we reach the archway, we will make a signal with a lantern, which we will repeat on reaching the sea. If a password is necessary, we might say, God help us, and may God truly help us, and lead me with my companions to a place of safety; I trust I shall not have to write to you again. Keep well.
P.S.—If it should be stormy on the day fixed, the steamer could come, without any signals, on the following day or the first fine one, for we shall commence operations the moment we know the date, and complete them on seeing the steamer; and if a storm should rise while the boat is waiting in the above-mentioned creek, obliging it to put off from the shore, it must make a great effort to return, and throw us a rope which we can lay hold of. It is necessary to foresee what is likely to take place.”
Not long after the date of this letter, Panizzi sent to Mr. Fagan a summary of his plan of rescue, containing all the details of the work, and the mode in which he proposed to carry it out. This ran as follows:—
“1.—In the last days of September and beginning of October, a steamer will pass to the eastward of the Convent (i.e., the prison), where are the birds (prisoners), having one white streamer flying from each mast, or from one mast, which streamer will be hauled down for some moments, and then hoisted again when it is at its nearest point to the island.
“2.—The steamer will proceed on her course and run out of sight.
“3.—On the night of that day she will return, and approach the Convent as nearly as she can with safety, without chance of discovery.
“4.—At midnight she will send her boats to the island, and they will proceed towards the place already fixed upon in the plan.
“5.—The boats will not touch the shore, but will wait off till a light is shown from the beach, when they will approach within hail.
“6.—The password from the Nuns is the name of the friend of Louison (i.e., Panizzi).
“7.—The password from the boat will be the name of Louison’s father (i.e., Luigi).
“8.—If the Nuns be prevented coming to the beach between twelve and four o’clock that night, the steamer will put to sea, and return again at the same hour, and the same process will be repeated.
“9.—If the second attempt fails, the matter must be deferred.
“10.—If the steamer does not appear, it is because difficulties have prevented it.
“Now if Madame Settembrini has a short memory, it will be best to commit these points to writing, and enclose them in a wax pill covered with gutta-percha (a piece of which is enclosed), and which she will put in her mouth and swallow, if examined closely at the Convent. But better still if there be nothing in writing.”
The plan set forth met with the fullest approbation from Mr. Fagan; he, however, wrote to Panizzi “to be most cautious, for although Mazza had left the Police, they, the English, were watched night and day, and were hated by the King’s partisans.”
The great difficulty in the undertaking turned out to be the obtaining of a vessel. Owing to the exigencies of the Crimean War, Panizzi, up to the 31st of August, had been unable either to charter or buy a craft suitable for his purpose. At length the desired object was attained in the shape of the screw steamer “Isle of Thanet.” But now comes the melancholy part of the story; failure of skilfully and anxiously concerted plans, waste of money collected with so much pain, arduous and continuous labour miserably thrown away; bitter disappointment to Panizzi, and prolonged incarceration of the wretched inmates of S. Stefano. The ill-fated vessel charged with the restoration to freedom of Settembrini and his companions was but laden, after all, with the destruction of the hopes of all concerned in the attempted liberation. Scarcely had she started from Hull, when she met with a disabling accident which forced her to put back for repairs. These being completed, she set forth a second time, and had proceeded no further than Yarmouth when she was caught in a storm on the 25th of October and totally lost. So ended by no default of skill, but by the merest caprice of fortune, an enterprise which, if we consider the persons engaged, the means within their reach, and the purity of its purpose, must ever be reckoned as a most brilliant attempt; and so did not end, at least with all true lovers of freedom and humanity, the glory of those that had embarked upon it.
Amongst others who felt the disappointment of the failure almost as keenly as Panizzi himself was Mr. Gladstone, who lost no time in writing a letter of condolence on the ill-success of the expedition:—
“My dear Panizzi,
I cannot help writing you a line, however barren of condolence. I had hoped it might please God that your benevolent plan should succeed. It seems usually so hopeless to do good in this world, on a large scale, that one desires to become intensely concentrated on what lies within a small compass. For myself, too, I feel that with respect to the Italians I have had a great deal more credit than I have fairly earned; and I wished to have a hand in doing something by way of a step towards rectifying the account. I am so little informed of the reasons and particulars of your mode of proceeding, that I will at present go no further; but whenever the opportunity offers, I shall be most desirous to converse with you. I hope to hear more in the interval if you have more that can be usefully said.
I have resumed, during this recess, some old studies on Homer, and have also gone back for collateral illustration to that field of which I am very fond—the Italian romance. So for the first time I have been reading you on Ariosto and Bojardo, and on the romance in general; let me add, with great interest and pleasure, and with profit too, unless it be my own fault. But I am curious to know whether you still hold all the opinions that you had when you gave these books to the world. Are you still willing to have it thought to be probably your opinion that Berni is better than Bojardo? I am inclined to like Domenichi better than Berni, because he is so much nearer Bojardo. Mr. Hallam speaks of him with contempt. I doubt if he had paid much attention to either.
I have also been reading the ‘Orlandino’ and the ‘Ricciardetto.’ All these poems have an interest attaching to them as parts of a great chapter of literature. The last of them, at least the first half of it, though far from unexceptionable, seems to me better and not worse than Ariosto, in the one point for which he is justly censured.
A few graceful words to the same effect were also received by Panizzi from Sir W. Temple:—“Should the aid of friends be necessary, I hope you will reckon me among the number.”
The following letter, with which the present chapter concludes, distinctly proves of what stuff Settembrini was composed, and the same commendation may, without presumption, be extended to his companions:—
“To think that you and your generous friends should have spent so much time and money, and should have undertaken a long journey all in vain, grieves me beyond measure, for I can imagine all you must have done and hoped to achieve, and how disappointed you must have been at the unfortunate results. Do not, however, think of me; I am inured to suffering, and am not worth so much trouble. I grieve on your account, the more as my own ill-luck seems to pursue those who interest themselves on my behalf. Should you be forced to give this matter up, do not let it vex or trouble you.... Do not distress yourself about me and my companions; we have lost but one hope more, and we have lost so many already, the greater loss is his who has laboured and spent, and done so much in vain. If the matter is still delayed, and if, nevertheless, you and your friends are still willing to conduct it to an issue, you will be guided by your generous and noble hearts rather than by our merits. In such case give me timely advice, in order that I may inform you if it is still possible for us to do anything to second your efforts, and also whether any unforeseen obstacle may not render it necessary to change the original plan....”
Bianchini’s Appointment; Settembrini Fund; Convention with Argentine Republic; Correspondence; Orsini; Napoleon III.
After the suppression of Mazza, a marked change for the better took place in the general conduct of the Neapolitan Police. Bianchini, the new Minister, presented in every way a favourable contrast to his predecessor in office. Under his gentle rule, the normal system of oppression was relaxed, and the strongest front faced those dangers, arising from revolutionary incendiarism, which the cause of Liberty was perpetually incurring. ‘There is a lull,’ wrote Sir Wm. Temple to Panizzi (Jan. 17th 1856) ‘in the proceedings of the Police; Campagna has been kept in order, and there are no longer attacks upon hats and beards; and people breathe more freely,’ Though the ardour for the chasse aux rouges had sensibly diminished, and the King’s subjects were enjoying their liberty—quite a novelty to them—of being able to walk abroad in comparative security, it must not be supposed that the benefits arising from the improved state of things had extended to those political adversaries who were already in durance. Of carrying out his schemes for the rescue of Settembrini and his companions at San Stefano, Panizzi, notwithstanding his former failure, had by no means abandoned hope or intention. In framing his future projects to this end, he had met at Genoa, where he now was, with valuable assistance, in the shape of the counsel and co-operation of Dr. Bertani. After deducting the loss sustained by the wreck of the “Isle of Thanet,” for it was not fully insured, there remained still in hand a considerable sum of money, a portion of the fund lately set on foot for the liberation of the prisoners. This sum, until some further design for accomplishing the rescue had been definitely determined upon, Panizzi felt some scruple in retaining; and accordingly wrote to the respective donors of the money offering to return the contributions.
They, however, with one or two exceptions, preferred to leave the whole of their subscriptions in his possession, to be applied by him either to the main purpose, or to such uses as, in his judgment, might seem best for the benefit of Settembrini and his family, who were at this time in a state of the deepest distress. The letters of Lord Overstone and Lord Zetland seem worthy of reproduction:—
“My dear Panizzi,
“I regret to learn you have not been able to apply the money to the purpose originally contemplated. I am sure, however, it will be destined, under your superintendence, to very useful and benevolent purposes, and I beg you to consider yourself as vested with full and unrestricted authority so far as regards,
“My dear Panizzi,
“As one of the contributors to the fund which you raised, I will beg you to retain my contribution, to be appropriated in the manner you think best for Settembrini and his family. The first object would, of course, be his liberation; but if that cannot be effected, I am quite satisfied to leave it to your judgment how to appropriate it to the best advantage for him and his family.
Here we may pause for an instant to reflect on the steadiness of Panizzi’s character. With an aim in view he was never faint-hearted or desponding, even when the victim of constantly repeated rebuffs; it is well to note this ever-recurring trait in his character, for the recollection may serve as an encouragement to others who might be inclined to despair instead of imitating his example.
The “Settembrini Fund,” amounting to about £1,000, was finally entrusted to the charge and management of Mr. Gladstone, and by him securely invested in England.
Meantime, a new influence had been brought to bear at Naples on the fortunes of Settembrini and the rest. The King had concluded with the Government of the Argentine Republic a Convention, whereby he was to be at liberty to deport to that State such political offenders (including, as it would appear, others of a different and more criminal caste) detained at this time in the Neapolitan prisons, as should choose to avail themselves of the commutation for exile proffered them. It is not clear whether this alternative was actually offered to Settembrini, Poerio, and their immediate companions; but it is evident, not only that they would have been at perfect liberty to avail themselves of it, but that the King would have been delighted to rid himself of them by the means proposed. The question whether or not they would be adopting a judicious course of action in agreeing to the terms offered by the Convention, and accepting the modicum of liberty they could purchase at the price of expatriation, divided their friends and benefactors into two factions.
On one side, Panizzi himself was strongly opposed to their taking such steps, and vehemently supported a different course, viz., that they should petition the King directly for their pardon and release. He appears, and, to judge from his own words, not unreasonably, to have suspected something latent in the Convention which might prove an insurmountable obstacle to the voluntary return of the exiles from their new country to the old, or, indeed, to Europe in general. In a letter to Lacaita (February 17th, 1857) he thus expressed himself strongly on the subject:—
“I wish you would try to dissuade any Neapolitan prisoners to accept the alternative of going to the Argentine Republic. They have no guarantee or protection whatever that the conditions under which they consent to go will be observed. They will be made slaves. I know very well the agent who has set this going: he is a most clever Alsatian Jew, who has several times put together enormous fortunes by schemes and speculations of an adventurer, and who has been as many times reduced to beggary. I know that some of the prisoners, among others Poerio and Settembrini, have been offered by the Neapolitan Government a free pardon, if they will petition the King, and they have refused! This is not firmness, but foolhardiness. There is nothing disparaging for a man who is bound hand and foot, and has a dagger put to his throat, to ask to be released. Any man, however brave, will run away from a mad dog. If they were asked to acknowledge themselves guilty, would be right to refuse, and rather die in prison; but it is sheer folly to refuse to ask to be let out. This is the opinion of all their friends here. It seems that Fagan urges them to go to America.
The position of matters at this time, as regards carrying out the terms of the Convention, was reported to Lord Shelburne, who had been requested to consult Lord Clarendon on the subject. This, however, he appears not to have considered of any very great importance. Mr. Gladstone seems equally to have oscillated between the two alternatives of exile to La Plata and a petition for a not dishonourable pardon:—
“My dear Panizzi,
The paper on the Argentine Colonization reads well, but everything depends on the good faith of the parties. What are the guarantees for the fulfilment of the terms? I see them not. On the other hand, I agree with you that if a petition could be framed, praying in terms of due respect for liberation, without directly or indirectly confessing guilt, there could be no dishonour in presenting it.
On the other hand, Lord Palmerston, though he expresses no belief one way or other, yet perceives in the possible want of bona fides in carrying out the Convention on either side, not in the proposal of emigration, the chance that the prisoners might have to submit to that deprivation of future liberty, so much feared by Panizzi:—
“My dear Panizzi,
“... As to Settembrini, I doubt whether he and any of his fellow-prisoners would not do well to agree to go to South America. They would not be bound to stay there; and it would be for them to decide whether their liberty is worth purchasing by two voyages across the Atlantic.
Settembrini, meanwhile, distracted by the diversity of opinion among his friends, and perplexed by the strenuous opposition displayed by Panizzi to the emigration scheme, applied to Mr. Fagan for explanation of this apparently uncalled for opposition, and for further advice as to his own action. As regards the alternative of petitioning the King for pardon, we confess that, on the point of honour, we coincide more strongly in Settembrini’s opinions, stated in the following letter, than in the views expressed in Panizzi’s letter to Lacaita. What the former wrote to Mr. Fagan is so well worth reading, and so characteristic of the writer, that we make no apology for presenting long extracts.
“My dear Mr. Fagan,—
The kindness which you have at all times shown me emboldens me to write and explain to you a plan of mine which appears to me reasonable, and to beg you to let me know through my wife (who will be the bearer of this letter) whether there is anything on which I might be misinformed. Mr. Panizzi, in the name of his friends and himself, advises me to ask for a pardon. He evidently sees no other way, and I myself have given up hope. He tells me on no account to accept an offer to go to the Argentine Republic, but for what reason I am unable to discover, though I have mused over it for days. Mr. Panizzi is to me such an authority, I respect, love, and owe him so much, in fact, that I am really grieved to find myself differing from him. I feel sure that he has either been misinformed as to my intentions, or that he knows more than I do. As in his letter he seems to have expressed his settled conviction, I will not write to him, for it would seem discourteous to contradict him. For this reason I beg you will tell me whether you know what has induced Mr. Panizzi to give me this advice, or, at least, to explain to him my motives, if you approve of them. You, my dear Sir, having lived amongst us for so many years, and knowing so well both the intentions and opinions of the Government and the Liberal party, can understand how, under present circumstances, a request for pardon is not merely a personal matter, is not only the sacrifice of one’s dignity, and of that legitimate pride which every honest man ought to feel; it is not merely coming to terms with a robber or highwayman, and begging him to spare your life, but it is a matter of public interest, and means the recantation of political creed, and the recognition as right and legal of all the enormous injustice committed during the last nine years. It would be telling the nation we have all been in the wrong; it would be giving the lie to England and France (who have solemnly condemned the conduct of the Neapolitan Government;)Government;) it would be saying to the public opinion of Europe, you have been deceived. The Neapolitan Government well knows the value of such requests, and, while using all manner of insinuations and suggestions to extort them, will not take them into consideration unless they are of the most abject character, wishing not only to humiliate, but to degrade the applicants. I would sooner remain here than leave my prison through such a door. I know that many others have asked for mercy, and I do not blame them, but I trust no one will blame me for my irrevocable resolve.... Such pardon as the Government offers is contemptible, and death or the galleys would be preferable. My honour and conscience are my own, no power in the world can rob me of these my last possessions. I am thoroughly convinced that in asking for a reprieve I should injure both myself and our common cause, therefore I have decided not to make an application on any terms. There still remains one honourable way of leaving my prison. By going to America my personal dignity would not suffer, for it is the Government who offers, not I who ask. It will do no harm to the common cause; for though it may appear that in leaving I show a want of confidence in the country, yet I shall give no grounds for suspicion that in remaining I wish to ask or accept pardon. Oh, my dear sir, in this prison I am daily losing intelligence, conscience, and all human feeling, and the thought that for the last seven years I have lived on other people’s charity breaks my heart and aggravates my troubles. This state of things is insupportable. To escape from it a year ago I ran great risk, and now I would go not only to the Argentine Republic or Patagonia, but even to Victoria or the Pole. I never had any intention of settling abroad, but would remain there as short a time as possible, returning to Europe and Piedmont, there to meet my poor wife and beloved son, and live on the fruits of my own labour. It would merely be banishment to Piedmont with the preliminary conditions of twice crossing the ocean, even for those who could not return so soon to Europe, the journey would not be altogether an evil, for either our country would remain as it is (and the Argentine Republic would be preferable to a prison), or matters will change for the better, and then they could at any time return home. This opinion seems reasonable to me; but on perusing Mr. Panizzi’s letter, I am so impressed by his authority that I have hesitated. I have racked my brains to find reasons for the contrary, and have found none to satisfy me. The Convention has not met with favour in this country for I believe two reasons—prejudice against a Government which, being hated, cannot please in what it does, and also from sheer ignorance, which associates the ideas of a disastrous and interminable journey to a country haunted by yellow fever and infested with savages and all sorts of horrors. None but the ignorant multitude would attach importance to such rumours. Many have tried to persuade me that once despatched to those regions we should never be allowed to return, and that the Convention has been artfully drawn up to lead us into a trap. Abiding, however, by the first and trustworthy information which you, Sir, most kindly imparted to my wife, I still believe that the man who does not accept the conditions of a colonist (and who lets the Government know that he wants nothing from it, but will live at his own expense) could not be compelled to submit to any restrictions, but might remain or return at his own pleasure. It is quite just that a colonist who contracts a debt should be watched, and not allowed to depart without satisfying all claims; but he who accepts nothing owes nothing. It would be an enormity of a novel kind should the Argentine Republic consent to act as the police of the Bourbons, and become the jailers of their political prisoners. It would be a pretty sort of recommendation to Europe, a fine inducement to strangers to settle in Argentina, if they were to act thus in total opposition to the spirit and letter of their constitution, which, thanks to your kindness, I have read. I therefore repeat my belief that there would be no difficulty in leaving the place, and that no secret conventions exist in that respect; but if you, dear Sir, should now think differently, or even suspect anything of the kind, I beg you let me know frankly; I earnestly entreat this, as it is to me a matter of the greatest importance. In consequence of your assurance that it would be possible to return to Europe (and from what I have myself read in the Convention) I am firmly persuaded that it will be the most reasonable course to go. Mr. Panizzi now advises me not to do so, without, however, stating his reasons, and I beg you to relieve me of my doubts as soon as possible. My future intentions would be (if allowed to return) to embark immediately in any merchant vessel at hand, and sail for Genoa or Marseilles. Three years ago my son Raffaele went to Monte Video in a trading vessel, and made the voyage out and back in less than ten months, including the time of his stay there, which was not short. The voyage from La Plata to Genoa could be accomplished in two months, or even less. Now I cannot discover any injury to either the public cause or myself in all this. If others see harm I would beg them to indicate clearly in what it is, in order that I may alter my opinion and do nothing painful to myself or displeasing to those who love me and whom I both love and respect. To your courtesy, my dear Sir, I look for the answer which will either change my opinion or confirm me in the intention which at present seems reasonable to me. In conclusion I must inform you that all political prisoners, including those confined at Ponza and Ventotene, have been asked whether or not they are willing to go to the Argentine Republic (we galley slaves alone excepted). I cannot assign any reason for this exception. I do not know whether the Government are unwilling to send us out, whether they have reserved us for a second expedition, or have abandoned the whole matter from irritation at the refusal of almost all the prisoners. But I believe that, in spite of the delay, the matter will still be carried into effect, even for us “forzati” who are kept here as so much refuse from the gallows.
Whether the Convention had already turned out a “complete failure” or not, the pace at which the whole business was progressing must have given ample time to Settembrini to make up his own mind, as well as to collect and digest all the advice worth following as to the line of action best for him to adopt. The parties to the Convention, and notably the King himself, seem certainly to have been in no hurry to bring the affair to a climax. “Nothing is known,” wrote Mr. Fagan again to Panizzi (April 25th, 1857,) “with certainty respecting the affair of the political prisoners. The two frigates which are now being fitted out will not be ready for sea before the end of next month. The general impression appears to be that about 250 persons will be sent, but they are all men belonging to the lower class, and not all condemned for political offences.”