Chapter XX

_Devising Means for Escape of Settembrini; Mode of Carrying on
Correspondence; Senesi Collection; Mazza Affair; Loss of the ‘Isle
of Thanet.’_

No sooner had Panizzi arrived in London than he began devising means of escape from the dungeons of the Neapolitan Government for his unhappy friends. His first efforts were for the deliverance of Settembrini, in captivity at San Stefano, the relief of Poerio, more closely watched in an inland prison, being of secondary consideration. That the work was both arduous and hazardous may be conceived, and that as yet no very palpable improvement in the state of Naples had resulted, notwithstanding Panizzi’s exertions during his visit, may be gathered from a letter by Sir William Temple:

‘There is no appearance of any change in the police here, as the trial
for the affair of the 15th May is conducted in a more illegal way than
that of Poerio. The judge puts words into the witnesses’ mouths, or,
at least, reads them their former depositions, and threatens them with
punishment if they do not adhere to them.’

‘Naples, January 15th, 1852.’

On the subject of poor Settembrini and his family, Panizzi wrote in these terms to Mr. Haywood:—

“B. M., March 20th, 1852.

“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.

“Liverpool, November 5th, 1853.

“My dear Panizzi,

Be assured 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.

Yours, &c., &c.,
W. E. GLADSTONE.”

“Hagley, December 14th, 1853.

“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.

Yours, &c., &c.,
W. E. GLADSTONE.

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:—

“S. S., November 27th, 1852.

“... 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:—

“S. S., Feb. 16th 1854.

“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:—

“B. M., 26th July.

“... 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, Mad^{me.} 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:—

“Piccadilly, August 25th, 1855.

“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.

Yours affectionately,
PALMERSTON.”

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_.

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:—

“Santo Stefano,
August 31st, 1855.

“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:—

“Genoa, 31st August, 1855.

“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:—

“Hawarden, Chester, November 6th, 1855.

“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.

Yours, &c., &c.,
W. E. GLADSTONE.

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:—

“Santo Stefano, December 3rd, 1855.

“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....”