CHAPTER XXI
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:—
“February 25th, 1856.
“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,
Yours, &c., &c.,
Overstone.”
“October 8, 1856.
“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.
Yours, &c., &c.,
Zetland.”
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.
Ever yours,
A. Panizzi.”
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:—
“February 5th, 1857.
“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.
Yours, &c., &c.,
W. E. Gladstone.”
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:—
“11th February, 1857.
“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.
Yours, &c., &c.,
Palmerston.”
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.
“Santo Stefano, March 2nd, 1857.
“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.
Yours, &c., &c., Luigi Settembrini.”
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.”
In this stage of delay and uncertainty we will take the liberty to leave the proceedings for the present, in order to bring on the scene another character, afterwards a somewhat intimate acquaintance of Panizzi’s—it would be scarcely warrantable to call him a friend—in notoriety, more than equal to Poerio or Settembrini, but not as they were, of honourable and untarnished celebrity. Few are living but have heard or read of Felice Orsini; equally few are they who do not hold both the man and his criminal intentions in deep execration. He was born at Meldole, in the States of the Church, in 1819. From his youth upwards, his fixed idea, his sole purpose of life was Revolution; conspiracy was to him as the breath of his nostrils. It cannot in strict truth be alleged that he absolutely and deliberately set his mind on murder, as the surest or most desirable means to accomplish his object, but neither can it be denied that if murder became a most necessary ingredient in his plans, if it showed him the easiest way, he was ready, without scruple even, to adopt such fell measures. Orsini’s first imprisonment for political crime was in 1844. In February, 1845, he was again convicted before the Supreme Tribunal of Rome, and condemned to the galleys for life, for a plot against the Government. Fortunately for himself, he was comprised in the general amnesty of the 16th of July, 1846, published by Pius IX. on his accession to the Papal chair, and released, or perhaps it ought to be said let loose, in the same year. In May, 1847, he was expelled from Tuscany for his political intrigues. Two years afterwards he was elected a Deputy in the Roman Constituent Assembly; but, in 1853, was forced to quit Roman territory. He first sought refuge in London, which, however, in a short time, he left, and for a period was busied in roaming through Piedmont, Switzerland, and Lombardy, continually, wherever he went, plotting and scheming under the assumed name of Tito Celci. He was next heard of under the name of Hernof, at Vienna, in 1855, when he was arrested and sent to the fortress of Mantua. Thence, by energy and skill, no less by good fortune, he made his escape in the night of 28th-29th March, of the same year. He next visited Marseilles and Genoa, whence he returned to London. At this period he was on most intimate terms with Mazzini. Their friendship, however, was not of lifelong duration: it ended in a quarrel.
By Mazzini, it appears, Orsini was first introduced to Panizzi; but the introduction must have been merely formal, as there is no record of any intercourse between the two arising therefrom, and Panizzi seems to have lost sight of him very soon afterwards. However on the 14th of August, 1856, he was recommended by Mr. John Craufurd as a proper person to become a reader in the Library of the British Museum. The letter of introduction was delivered by Orsini himself, on the 18th of the same month, when he met with Panizzi, and a strong mutual liking for one another sprang up. In fact, as we know from the best of sources, this sympathetic feeling very nearly assumed the proportions of friendship; for Panizzi expressed himself as never having been so much captivated by any one as by Orsini. The familiarity thus quickly established, showed early signs of endurance; and the following letter, which throws a good deal of light as well on the character as on the history of the writer, may be read with interest:—
“14, Cambridge Terrace, Hyde Park,
27th August, 1856.
“My dear Sir,
I have examined the Catalogue of the Library respecting the Art and Science of Warfare. It is but poorly furnished with the most instructive works published during and after the wars of Napoleon. It is the same with the United Service Institution, where I was admitted for the purpose of consulting the books which I required for the composition of the military work that I have in hand, and I have in consequence had to order various books from France at my own expense; but, however, I shall soon have to study the work of which I send you the title: “La grande Tactique du Marquis de Ternay,” Colonel of the Staff. These works, especially that of Martray, I could not procure on account of the expense, but should you think it desirable for the Library to acquire them, it would be of great assistance to me. The Paris edition of Ternay’s work ought not to cost more than 25 francs, and that of Brussels much less. The work which I am engaged upon will be in English, and contain all the information required by officers in the field, from the Sub-Lieutenants of the three branches of which an army is composed, up to the Chief Staff Officer inclusive. It is a serious undertaking as it must be restricted to a portable volume, and include, with clearness and conciseness, the omne scibile of military affairs. With diligence and assiduity, assisted by the studies of my youthful days, I promise myself I shall succeed; still it is a work I shall not be able to finish in less than six or eight months. While thus engaged, I could devote some hours a day to other occupations, and I should like, if possible, to give lessons in the Italian language, literature, and in military art and science. Having been myself major of the staff, I can give good lessons in the latter, and am tolerably conversant with the former. Up to the present time my life has been unusually eventful, and passed mostly amidst dangers—a constant source of anxiety to my family, who have suffered no slight losses on my account. As I am a little more quiet just now, I wish to derive advantage from my acquirements, while awaiting the longed-for moment when I may once again take up arms for our independence. I have been advised to advertise in the Times that I am willing to give lessons; I should not like to do this, it would seem as if I wished to turn my good name to profit, although, instead of such an expedient, I think, if you would, you might greatly assist me amongst your acquaintances, and in any case I am quite ready to follow your advice. With my private life you are not, however, acquainted; but on this I give you full liberty to apply even to my adversaries, whether in opinion, or party, or otherwise, for we all have such. Of languages, I know French well, and for private lessons can make myself understood in English. I have written this to avoid troubling you, and if you will kindly let me know, I can call upon you at any time for better advice as to what I have said here. On political affairs I know nothing positive, but keep myself (as I told you) independent of every one, and should the Sardinian Government deem my slender services available for any enterprise, however daring, I am, and always shall be, ready, I mean, of course, for the independence of my native land; for that, since I could understand the idea, I have ever been restless, and have sacrificed all. In saying I am ready to lend a hand to the Sardinian Government, I am influenced solely by the love of my country and by the conviction that at the present time, if it will, it is the only Government that can render Italy independent, united, and great; and I shall think myself happy if, by devoting all my energies in an important act, fraught with serious consequences to the oppressors of Italy, I can at the same time put an end to a life which has so far been for me but sad, passionate, and melancholy. Pardon this expression of my feelings. From what I hear, it appears that my little book has met with some success, even in Piedmont and with all parties; certainly I have in no way exaggerated, but endeavoured to impress the necessity of sacrificing all political principle to the National Independence. I have done so myself since my first imprisonment in 1844. Nothing remains for me now but to beg you to excuse this long letter, and with every respect to assure you that I am,
Dear Sir, your very humble and devoted servant,
Felice Orsini.”
In another letter, dated “Glastonbury, 7th February, 1857,” he says in further development of his political dreams:—
“The book, with the documents, &c. ... is now finished.... In an introduction I insist on this point, that all our efforts should be directed towards the national independence. “While thus engaged, every thought of political theories must rest in peace; we are bound to be on the side of that Italian Government which, excluding the Pope and any foreign dynasty, will furnish us with the means of making war on Austria. All this I say with the frankness that has been natural to me throughout life, with the patriotic ardour that ever burns within me, and with the firm conviction that by such conduct alone can the Italians work their redemption.”
To refer to the hideous, and, it may be said with justice, the vulgar crime of which Orsini and his accomplices were guilty, is not here necessary, further than will suffice to refresh the memory of the reader. The attempt took place on the evening of the 14th of January, 1858, at the moment when the Emperor Napoleon III. and the Empress arrived at the Opera. The details are too well known to need repetition. On March 13th following Orsini was guillotined.
That the crime had been long premeditated, and that Orsini had not been impelled to it by any sudden frenzied impulse, is clear from a passage in his defence of himself, if defence it could be called, on his trial:—“From my youth,” said he, “I have only had one object, and one fixed idea, the deliverance of my country, and vengeance against the Austrians, and I have constantly conspired against them up to 1848.... When in England, I was imbued with a mania of being useful to my country. I witnessed ridiculous attempts being made by Mazzini, who sent 15 or 20 men to Italy, where they lost their lives. I tried loyal means; I went over to England, and in all the meetings which I addressed, advocated the principle of non-intervention.... After the fall of Rome, I felt convinced that Napoleon would no longer assist us: and I said to myself, that man must be killed.... I am very sorry that so many people were wounded, and if my blood could repair this misfortune, I am quite ready to give it for the people. Here it is!” These words were described by the French newspapers at the time as bombastic—an epithet singularly out of place. Terrible they might well be called, and full of ghastly meaning: witnesses not only to the atrocity of the crime itself, but to the length of time—two whole years—during which the plot to commit it had been in process of elaboration.
On the eve of his execution, Orsini addressed a letter to the Emperor, in which he said:—“Near the close of my career, I yet wish to make a last effort, for the sake of Italy. Her independence has hitherto prompted me to defy all dangers, to court all sacrifices. Italy has been the constant object of my affections, and this is the last thought that I wish to record in the words which I address to your Majesty.“
Let the reader compare the passage with Orsini’s letters to Panizzi. The death of Napoleon, considered so necessary to the cause of Italian Union by Orsini, might possibly not have promoted that good end. But could it have been that the alarm caused to the Emperor by the assassin’s attempt was one of the chief reasons that led him to take arms against Austria in 1859?
It has been told the writer of this memoir, on various occasions in the course of conversation, that, when the news appeared in the second edition of the Times of Saturday, January 16th, 1858, that “Orsini or Corsini” had attempted the murder of the Emperor, Panizzi, who was in the habit of visiting Brooks’s every afternoon, was at once, and on that very Saturday, questioned by other members of the Club whether the assassin was his friend. Panizzi replied that he doubted it very much, seeing that he himself had an appointment with Orsini for the following day, when they were both to call on Lord Palmerston together. This was thought at the time to be a deep but futile scheme for establishing an alibi. Of the truth of the story we have no evidence beyond what we have mentioned. So far as we have been able to ascertain, there is nothing to show that Orsini was in London at all in this month of January. It is a matter of regret that we cannot help the reader further to judge of the truth or falsehood of the anecdote. As we would not ourselves be held to have painted the would-be assassin in too dark a colour, so would we willingly grant all indulgence to any who, from merely reading the facts of his history, should be inclined to depict him in the deepest of hues. That, by many ordinary Englishmen, such a man, who scrupled not to attack and destroy all, known or unknown, who stood in his way, might aptly be called the mad dog of society, is perfectly conceivable. But, granting all that can be brought against him, and in no wise seeking to justify his actions, we nevertheless submit that the character of Orsini is rather deserving of careful study, and even of allowance, if that study be made fully and without prejudice, than of hasty condemnation. A fanatic of fanatics, he was undoubtedly, both to friends and foes, the most dangerous of men; but he had also the good points of a fanatic—he was unselfish, and of necessity disinterested. If, to use the mildest of terms, he little more than undervalued his neighbour’s life, he at least threw his own into the balance. Nor can it be denied, from what has been said and quoted above, that patriotism (unenlightened it might be, carried to a crime as it assuredly was, yet earnest and sincere, and having no taint of self-seeking, though much of self-imposture), was the man’s one inspiration throughout his life. That personally he was not of a vulgarly brutal cast of mind is evident if only from his letters to Panizzi. His learning and ability were more than common place; as a soldier his skill and courage were unquestioned. We would be content to speak of him, however, in no higher terms than were employed by his advocate at his trial. “He was not there,” said M. Jules Favre, “either to justify or to save his client, but he came there with the wish to endeavour to cast on his immortal soul some rays of that truth which he trusted would protect his memory against the execration of posterity.”
