was to meet the carriage a second time in all probability, for they suspected, and not without reason, that they themselves were the two persons who were to take a forced drive to Modena—a journey for which, at present, they felt little inclination. It was decided, therefore, as a temporary measure, to cross the frontier, and both being nimble of foot and with bodies well trained, as becomes all wise and prudent men, by athletic exercise, they fled across country with all possible speed for the Parmese territory. Arrived on this hospitable soil, the story goes that they threw themselves prone upon it, and actually (not figuratively) kissed it, pouring forth their heartfelt thanks to Providence for their deliverance from impending evil. Their position was even now far from enviable. It was impossible for them to remain on Parmese ground, and they were fully aware that perils as great as those from which they had just escaped lay before them. Exhausted as they were, they held a council on the road, in doubt whether to proceed or return to Brescello. The conclusion at which they arrived was that the better plan was to go back and make careful inquiries in the neighbouring villages, in order to ascertain who were the two persons for whom the agents of the police were seeking. On that very night, therefore, they returned, reaching Brescello about daybreak, and learnt to their great satisfaction that their names had never been mentioned. Here they seemed to have secured repose; but, as it turned out, of short duration, lasting only for the space of two months; for on the 22nd of October in the same year Panizzi received a slight message summoning him to the police office, where he accordingly attended. Hardly had he reached the door when he was arrested. Throughout all his misfortunes he seems not to have been without his share of good luck. The man who arrested him proved to be a friend, and by the aid of this kindly official he was enabled to jump out of a window, and again make his way for the frontier.
It may not be uninteresting to mention here that this man afterwards became an Austrian spy. Many years later on, while Panizzi was on a journey to Italy, and had arrived at the frontier, some one approached the carriage and demanded his passport. It was, of course, handed over. On returning it the man said, “Buon viaggio, Signor Panizzi!” and he recognised his friend of the Brescello police-office.
In the meantime, and before his arrest, the refugee, whose good luck it must be confessed was mainly owing to his sagacity and foresight, had taken care to provide himself with a passport. This, strange to say, he obtained duly endorsed, through a friend of Count Munarini, then Minister of Foreign Affairs. In addition to this passport, he had also armed himself with another document, almost equally useful. This was a pass, in the form usually given to labourers who wished to absent themselves for the day. With these papers in his possession he crossed the Po to Viadana, and, setting out from thence in company with Minzi, Zatti and Montani, arrived at Cremona, where he was recognised by the Austrian police-agent Ticino, who endeavoured to arrest his further progress. In this attempt, however, he failed; Panizzi’s passport being perfectly en règle. Nevertheless, he succeeded at the instigation of a notorious spy named Antonioli in robbing the fugitive of a portion of his luggage.
From Cremona he made his way as well as he could to Switzerland, where he took up his quarters at Lugano. Here he wrote his “Processi di Rubiera,” and at first thought of settling in the place, as this was a free town, near his own home. It may be as well to keep the memory of wrongs before the world, and it is unfortunately the way of unsuccessful men in general, and of unsuccessful revolutionists in particular, not to accept defeat philosophically, but after all hope of success has departed, still to irritate those whom they have failed to dispossess or overcome. From this pardonable defect Panizzi was, as might be expected, not more free than the rest of mankind. His restless and energetic disposition would not allow him to refrain from political controversy, and the character of his writings so provoked the Austrians that he was ordered to quit Lugano and proceed to. Geneva. Thither he accordingly went, but not to remain long; his objectionable reputation had preceded him, and the representatives of Austria, France, and Sardinia insisted on his expulsion. England was the only country now open to himself and his brother exiles, and thither they determined to journey by way of France; but, as they were not certain that the French authorities would allow refugees to pass through their country, it was decided to send forward Signor Bezzi (afterwards well-known in England as Mr. G. Aubrey Bezzi, who died in Piedmont only a few months before Panizzi) to exploiter the route. This gentleman’s exploitation must be held to have fallen a little short of complete success. At Gex, a small town in France, in the Department of Ain, and about 11 miles from Geneva, he was stopped, unceremoniously stripped, and after being thoroughly searched and examined, sent back. There was, however, a way to England still left to the party, by the Rhine and the Netherlands, and by this route they arrived in London in May, 1823. It is painful to have to record that the slenderness of their means obliged them to live in a state bordering on actual destitution. The author clearly recollects hearing Panizzi narrate that, in these days of his indigence, fourteen-pence was all he allowed himself for breakfast and dinner, and how well he remembered spending one portion of an afternoon in gazing through the windows of a cook-shop watching with hungry eyes the more fortunate mortals who were satisfying their appetites within; and this reminiscence gained additional zest from the fact that it was related at a banquetbanquet.
London at this period was full of refugees, from every country and of every grade, including presidents of republics, generals, men of letters, lawyers, poets, etc.
At first these various celebrities enjoyed a considerable amount of notoriety, no small part of which was bestowed upon them by the newspaper writers, who seemed for some time to be indefatigable in drawing public notice to the exiles, and in relating exciting anecdotes of this or that famous person sojourning amongst them. In due course, however, the novelty of the thing wore off, and readers, having had a surfeit of such accounts, the newspapers gradually ceased to stimulate their curiosity, and the expatriated heroes were forgotten by the public at large.
If, as the maxim is, a man may be known by the society he keeps, Panizzi, who seems at most times to have had peculiar good fortune in attracting to himself men of worth, both privately and publicly, must be allowed to have stood high in this respect.
His dearest friend at this period of his life in London was the illustrious Piedmontese statesman, Santorre Santa-Rosa, who, the life and soul of the great patriotic movement then lately made to achieve the freedom of his country, was born at Savigliano in Sardinia, in September, 1783. He was the author of the History of the Piedmontese Revolution, a work which breathes the true spirit of national liberty, and exhibits its writer as a most determined foe to anything in the shape of foreign domination. Forced by his Government to expatriate himself in 1821, Santa Rosa went to Switzerland, but being, like Panizzi, compelled by the Austrian and Sardinian Governments to quit that country, he betook himself to France, taking up his residence in Paris, where he assumed the name of Conti, and became the bosom friend of Victor Cousin. Early in October, 1822, he arrived in England, on the merits and defects of which country he makes the following quaint comment in one of his letters to his brother exiles:—“Here I have been received with sincerity and kindness. I also admire the virtuous habits of the English, but cannot get used to their mode of cooking.”
For ourselves, as true lovers of our country, we are too well content with the eulogy at the beginning, to take exception to the blame of one of our institutions implied in the concluding part of the sentence.
In November, 1824, Santa-Rosa left England for Napoli di Romania to fight for the cause of Greek independence, and was killed in battle on the 19th of May, 1825. His death was a sad blow to the band of Italian patriots in London, but especially to Panizzi, who had looked up to him as a father and a counsellor, and had kept up a constant correspondence with him. There are in our possession but two letters written by Santa-Rosa to his friend, dated respectively the 5th September and 13th November, 1823, from “The Green Cottage, South Bank, St. John’s Wood,” a part of the town much affected as a dwelling place by the leading refugees. Conspicuous in these are the writer’s affection for Panizzi and anxious care for his welfare; nor are matters of mental instruction omitted, for we find strong recommendations carefully to study the political and literary history of Italy, and also “note all the most important points of English habits.”
