the concluding lecture of the series, delivered three years afterwards.
I.
If I dare to address you in your own language, it is neither because I have a vast confidence in my limited knowledge of it, nor because I am unaware how awkwardly a foreigner is situated on such an occasion. But since you do not honour me with your presence to ascertain how I am acquainted with your language, but to hear what my opinion is with respect to some poems written in my own, it is after all of very little consequence whether my diction be so correct and my pronunciation be pure, if I am but intelligible. Having to speak of a foreign literature, I had still more reason to expect that the audience would liberally overlook my blunders; for the Italian quotations would remind those whose keen sense of the beauties of their own tongue might perchance dispose to pass a vigorous sentence on my English, how difficult it is to speak a foreign language tolerably.
These reasons alone might perhaps have induced me to trust to the liberality of an English public; but even without them, and with far more confidence would I have presented myself before you. Your kindness to me on former occasions, to which I shall only allude as no language at any length could do justice to it, would have been a sufficient encouragement to me. It was in this same place that without any claim to your favour, I met the most flattering reception. The repeated proofs of benevolence which I have received from you warrant me in expecting that you would continue to me the same support. I know you so well that I am as certain that you cannot be unkind, as I am conscious that I cannot be ungrateful.
The Lectures which I purpose delivering will form an appendix to those which you have already heard on Ariosto, on whose poem I shall not lecture this time. I am sensible of the disadvantage of such an omission.
II.
I feel it would be indiscretion were I to trespass any longer upon your time, as I was inclined so to do on this last occasion. I shall therefore conclude, offering you my sincerest thanks for the kindness with which, sometimes even in spite of the enraged elements, you have honoured this course of lectures. I know full well that the subject must have been so agreeable to a choice audience like that by which I have been favoured, so as to be a powerful attraction for them to attend. But I cannot and will not think that I am indebted for your presence to the merits of the poems I lectured upon rather than to your benevolence to me. I have known Liverpool so long and so well, and have had so many occasions of experiencing the hospitality of its inhabitants, that my heart cannot allow me to think that you came to hear me as you would have done a stranger. I am not a stranger in this town to which the noblest of sentiments—gratitude—ties me. I beg you will continue to entertain for me the kind feelings which you have hitherto done, being certain that I am fully sensible of their value, and proud in thinking that you have not found—and I hope you never will find me either unworthy of them, or not appreciating them as fully as they deserve.
It is pleasing to trace in these words the grateful heart of Panizzi, reflecting as they do the warmth of his feelings, and acknowledging the kindness shown him by Liverpool friends at a time when he sadly needed sympathy and support; we now leave him, through such aid, in better worldly circumstances than he had but recently encountered.
CHAPTER III
Foscolo; At Holkham; First Article; Departure from Liverpool; Brougham; Miss Turner; London University; Botta; Lady Dacre; ‘Orlando Innamorato’; W. S. Rose; Keightley; Moore’s Verses; Correspondence with Mr. Grenville; First Appointment.
Panizzi being established in Liverpool in 1826, it may be concluded (and, indeed, in a letter to be presently quoted he admits as much) that he was now earning sufficient to satisfy his immediate wants, and to enable him to enjoy a certain degree of luxury. He resided at 93 Mount Pleasant, an eminence overlooking the town, and celebrated in Roscoe’s poem of the same name. From the invitations he received, constantly dining out, it may be inferred he moved in the best society and was leading a comfortable life. Far otherwise was it with Ugo Foscolo, his fellow-exile. For Foscolo, of whose celebrity in England, as of the reverence paid to his name by the youth of his native Italy, Giuseppe Mazzini writes so warmly, was now living in London in a state bordering on destitution.
“Stern and somewhat aggressive in temperament,” says Mazzini, speaking of Foscolo, “his mind nourished and fortified by severe study, little calculated for laying new foundations, but endowed with mighty faculties for destruction, he effectually overthrew (except for those who bow down kindly before precedents) a whole edifice of errors which barred the way to the study of Dante. In his different writings, especially in his “Discorso sul Testo,” etc., etc., etc., he cleared the ground for a better understanding of the ‘Commedia’ and the poet.”
This estimate of Foscolo’s character was founded entirely on reading and reports, and seeing that the two famous refugees had no personal knowledge of each other—indeed had never met—must be taken as an eulogium rather of the genius than the moral worth of the great writer.
Though doubtless much might be said on this topic, our space and the purpose of this memoir forbid our dwelling at any length on the subject. For Foscolo’s genius as writer and poet, Panizzi—as who would not, even without his shrewd discernment?—ever entertained the profoundest respect; but in a somewhat important qualification, strict adherence to truth, he detected a slight deficiency. However, he made every allowance for this failing in a man of superior endowments, and felt the deepest sympathy with one of so great attainments reduced to such ignoble shifts. It is but too true that Foscolo wrote his famous book, “Discorso sul Testo, etc.,” and other of his last works under the pressure of extreme poverty and in continual dread of his creditors, which rendered his bodily sufferings the more intolerable, and caused him alarm lest want of bread should put a stop to his literary labours.
It is unnecessary to give further details of Foscolo’s life. They were better known to Panizzi than to any one else, and he alone could have narrated the true story of the experiences of his illustrious friend. The biographers of the former have unaccountably and unpardonably neglected to take due cognizance of the intimacy which subsisted between the two.
The first letter, written by Panizzi to Foscolo from Liverpool, and dated 25th February, 1826, is long and most interesting. Herein he recalls to his friend’s memory that it was just thirty months since he laid the foundation of all that the writer possessed, and proceeds in the following grateful strain: “Were it possible for me to forget my own country, I could not certainly forget Liverpool. If the misery of selling articles and verbs were not such as to freeze one’s blood, I might say that I live, yet I only vegetate; even this is due to you.”
Of Foscolo’s “Discorso sul Testo” of Dante, Panizzi always expressed the highest admiration. “Itadmiration. “It would be impossible,” he writes of his friend’s magnum opus, “to describe how much superior your work seems to me, compared with those hitherto made known, not only in Italy, but by any critic elsewhere. Being a great admirer of Dante, in whom I find the greatest comfort of my exile, I paid last month a visit to the Bodleian, where I saw thirteen manuscripts of the ‘Divina Commedia.’ I have ready a minute description of each, which I have written in the shape of a letter, with the intention of sending it to the ‘Antologia,’ a paper more Italian in feeling, and less slavish than the others; but if you would like to see it, I shall most willingly send it to you. I may add that not far from here there is another manuscript of Dante, which, according to Mr. Roscoe, is well worth consulting; I propose seeing it next Easter. Mr. Coke, of Holkham, also possesses other MSS. and has kindly offered to send them to my house, that I may have an opportunity of studying them
