of the arts, hold the memory of that illustrious man, and the grateful recollection of the warm and affectionate regard with which I was honoured by him, are inducements so powerful to accept so kind an invitation as that which your letter conveys, that nothing but the absolute impossibility of leaving my duties here could restrain me from availing myself of it.”
Before Panizzi left London he received from Italy a most curious bill for money due from him; such a bill as few men have ever received at any time, and such as many men, Panizzi, probably, amongst the number, would hardly consider the most unpleasant of their kind. It was from the Inspector of Finances and Tax-gatherer (Ispettore ed Esattore di Finanze) at Reggio, who, having heard of Panizzi’s escape and arrival in Switzerland, sent him an account of money spent in preparing his accusation, sentence of death, and even for the expenses of his execution, “in contumaciam.” The actual sum demanded was 225 francs and 25 cents, including the usual fee for the hangman.
In his then low state of spirits Panizzi hardly felt equal to answering this amusing epistle in a befitting manner, and accordingly postponed his reply until after his arrival at Liverpool, whence he sent the following humorous letter:—
(Translation.) Realm of Death,
Elysian Fields,
10th May, 1824.
The soul of whilom Dr. Antonio Panizzi,
To the Inspector of Finances and Tax-gatherer of the Province of Reggio (Satanic Domain).
The body animated by me before I was smitten by the pointless stiletto of Terni, Cavedoni, and crew, and now living at Liverpool, by the grace of God sound and so sprightly that those who see it think that—spite of Modena’s Dukeling—I have not yet forsaken it, has sent me in my abode here a letter of yours, No. 14 of the 26th of March last past, requesting information or reply. Now I, in compliance with the latter solicitation, have to tell you that, mindful of the maxim “mors omnia solvit,” I do not consider that since my departure I have any longer either assets or liabilities in that miserable world of yours; unless you mean to say that, notwithstanding the Holy Alliance, I am still united to that body of mine at Liverpool; which would be a deadly sin ipso facto et jure incurring the penalty of higher excommunication, from which none but a fashionable Jesuit could absolve me, for having had the audacity to suggest a doubt of your most benign petty masterling’s lawful authority to expel me from the world.
Nevertheless, as I and that aforesaid body of mine are always upon such good terms with each other that we might still pass for body and soul conjoined, and as the corporal party through honourable industry can by my direction dispose of a few pounds sterling without inconvenience, I beg you to send to my body at Liverpool—for the post from your diabolical State never comes to disturb my rest here—a detailed account of the expenses and of the food which you tell me ought to be paid for to the extra-crammed treasury of a microscopical Duke who has been so over-weeningly fatuous as to send me to dwell in this beatific place; and if your statement be found correct, I will remit you in discharge thereof a bill of exchange on some Capuchin bank payable at sight when the Greek calends come. Only I warn you to give full particulars of the food, for I have an idea that it was gobbled up by the aforesaid fleshmongers Terni, Cavedoni, and crew; knowing well that my body, seasonably advised by me, spared the Treasury the trouble not only of providing the food to be paid for afterwards, and for which you make a demand now, but also of preparing a lodging generously offered gratis, only rather too late. If I perceive by the item—Bottles—that Terni bravely distinguished himself as a consummate hypocrite in Austrian service ought to do, I will write to him, begging him to pardon me for a letter which I addressed to him, as if I had been on earth, telling him that he acted against me like a hired assassin, and I will excuse him as a “drunken murderer.”
Wishing you a death such as mine, I conclude without further ceremony, both for the sake of following your example and because such observances are not much affected in this republic.
The soul of A. Panizzi
It must be acknowledged that this was rather a substantial letter to emanate from the world of spirits, and the imaginary separation of the soul from the “sound and sprightly” body should certainly have satisfied his extraordinary creditors and absolved him from the debt.
Panizzi had now settled for the time in Liverpool, where he kept up a constant correspondence with absent friends. The two letters from Santa-Rosa, dated 1823, too clearly prove that he was at this time in a state of great poverty, and that he thought of returning to London, a step, however, strongly opposed by his friend.
The capricious nature of the English climate—it was in the winter that he had arrived at Liverpool—seemed to discourage and depress him, perhaps, more than anything else; whilst the want of the most ordinary comforts of life, even of proper food, told severely upon his health. His income was chiefly derived from giving lessons in the Italian language and literature; some of his pupils lived far away from the town, and he used to start on foot early in the morning, give his lessons and return to Liverpool by eleven o’clock. This was necessary, as other duties required his attendance in the town at that hour; and, when we consider that the journey had frequently to be made through snow and rain, its depressing influence on the spirits of the young Italian, accustomed to the more genial climes of the south, may be readily understood.
His address at this date, December 1823, is not known, but in the January following he lodged at No. 6, King-street, Soho. He continued to extend his acquaintance and was upon friendly terms with the bankers, Mr. Ymes and Mr. Zwilchenbart. At this period, too, he knew Mr. John Ewart, at whose house he met Mr. Francis Haywood, the translator of Kant’s “Critick of Pure Reason.”
From these gentlemen, who, as well as the Rev. William Shepherd, author of the “Life of Poggio Bracciolini,” were among his earliest acquaintances in Liverpool, he received the greatest kindness. With Mr. Haywood he soon became most intimate, and frequent communications passed between them. Indeed, if a day elapsed without a letter from Mr. Haywood, Panizzi wrote, asking “why had he not written.”
Such were the friends, whom even in his early career, when chances of success appeared at a hazy distance, this young man was able to draw towards him, and many more he secured in after life.
The necessity of close attention to his duties, and the attractions of the hospitable society of English friends, never led him to neglect his fellow exiles.
Amongst the latter was a certain Count Linati, whose character and antecedents deserve some short notice at our hands. Claudio Linati was born in the Duchy of Parma, on the 1st of February, 1790. He appears to have been at one time a man of wealth and standing, but had become deeply involved in the political complications of his country. On the 9th of April, 1824, he was tried in his absence for conspiracy against his Government, and sentenced to death in contumaciam by the Supreme Tribunal of Parma. Having succeeded in making his escape, he settled for a time in Spain, and subsequently in France. He was a writer and artist of no mean ability. In a letter to a mutual friend, Panizzi describes Linati, as a man of turbulent spirit, on whom nature had bestowed a robust constitution, proof against all changes of climate; full of energy, though without any decided aim, an adept at all employments, and well versed in literature; a painter and a poet, a writer of plays, too, both comic and tragic, many of which he delighted to read to his friend. The manners and customs of the countries in which he lived were his constant study, though his views of mankind in general partook of his own untutored spirit. Speaking of Spain he says that priestly anarchy predominates in that country, and calls France “quel servilissimo versatile compassionevole popoletto,” stigmatising the nation as “servile pecus” for its submission to tyranny.
