CHAPTER XXII
Departure of Neapolitan Prisoners; At Cadiz; Cork; ‘Captain James’; Poerio’s Letter; Ferdinand II.
The scheme for getting rid of the political offenders, whose charge daily increased upon the Neapolitan authorities in the ratio of captivity to their victims, was coming near its accomplishment. On the 27th of Dec. 1858, a decree was issued by the King, offering to the prisoners, in accordance with the Argentine Convention, choice between emigration and continuance of durance. This decree commenced as follows, in words possibly not intended to be ironical: ‘By the Grace of God, &c. Having given proofs of our sovereign clemency to the greater part of those condemned for offences against the security of the State during the events of 1848-9,’ &c. It was read to the prisoners, who, with one exception, accepted the conditions. The single voice constituting the minority overbalanced the majority. Poerio refused to accept any of this qualified liberty.
“Better,” said he, “death on the gallows than this futile and costly journey to a far off land, there to meet a death more obscure and less honoured.” This refusal of the leading criminal to accept his freedom under the Convention was of such importance that the idea of any treaty was abandoned, and the whole plan for the deportation of the prisoners fell to the ground. Nor was his resolution to bide his time in captivity fruitless. On the 6th of January, 1859, a second decree, in substitution of the former, was promulgated, the main point of which was that certain of the prisoners, in number sixty-six, including Poerio and Settembrini, should be at liberty to leave the galleys on condition of going to New York.
This was readily accepted by the select number, and on the 16th of January, Poerio arrived at Pozzuoli, where, on the same day, he embarked on board the “Stromboli,” a vessel which had been fitted up as a prison. Pironti, eminent amongst those oppressed by the Neapolitan Government, had been attacked by paralysis, and was left behind in safe custody.
Poerio, on his embarkation, was still in chains, and little provision had been made for the comforts of the party on starting for their voyage across the Atlantic. No adequate or suitable clothing was provided for them, and, as a matter of fact, they were literally in rags.
Meanwhile, in London Panizzi was alert for the safety and protection of the exiles in case they reached New York. The United States Government, about that time, had repeatedly protested against some of the European Governments[Governments] deporting their paupers, jail-birds and prisoners to America, and threatened not only to prevent their landing, but to compel the captains who brought them to take them back. Of course no serious apprehensions were entertained for those Italians, if they fell into the right hands at first. Panizzi consulted Mr. Henry Stevens, who recommended that correct information and supplies should be sent direct to the Collector of Customs in New York, and in such manner arouse his personal interest in the patriots. Accordingly the following letter was written by Mr. Stevens to Mr. Schell, who not only took a lively interest in the affair himself, but encouraged others to the same purpose. A steamer was kept for many days in readiness to go down the Bay to meet Poerio and his companions and welcome them to New York. It was, therefore, no slight disappointment when the news was received that they had found their way to England.
“Morley’s Hotel,
London, January 28th, 1859.
“My dear Sir,
You are doubtless familiar with the story of the Italians whom the King of Naples, since his amnesty at the end of December last, has sent to New York. There are sixty or seventy of them, and it is expected that they will reach America towards the end of February. They go from Naples to Cadiz by steamer, and will probably be transhipped there to a merchant vessel about the 22nd of January.
Much interest is felt and expressed for them here, and I have no doubt, as they are all exiles for political offences, they will receive a cordial welcome on our shores.
I take the liberty not only to call your attention to them, but to request that you will be so good as to deliver, as early as possible after their arrival, the enclosed letter to one of them, Mr. Luigi Settembrini. The letter is from Mr. Panizzi, the Chief Officer of the British Museum, who takes a deep interest in them all, but more especially in Mr. Luigi Settembrini and Baron Carlo Poerio, both gentlemen of distinction, the latter formerly a Minister of State.
The letter to Mr. Settembrini contains matters of importance, and will direct him and others to Messrs. Brown Brothers & Co. where they will find something to their advantage.
I will only add that some little apprehension has been expressed lest the manner in which the King of Naples has sent these unfortunates to our shores might bring trouble upon them; but their misfortunes are too well known to warrant the belief that exiles for political opinions will be opposed on their landing in the Land of Freedom.
They will not be destitute, thank God, when they land. Besides the sum of fifty dollars given by the King to each one, they will be provided for by private hands.
I remain, &c., &c.,
Henry Stevens
(Of Vermont).”
It was on board the “Stromboli” that Poerio and Settembrini met for the first time since their captivity. Little opportunity was, however, afforded for the moment of renewing their acquaintance with each other, for the former, shortly after his arrival on board, was seized with severe illness, and compelled to keep his bed.
It is pleasing to relate an instance of true kindness and humanity on the part of at least one officer connected with the Neapolitan Government, and to record that Ferdinando Cafiero, Commander of the “Stromboli,” directed that his illustrious prisoner should be placed in his own (the captain’s) cabin.
They set sail, escorted by the “Ettore Fieramosca,” man-of-war; and the writer of this “Memoir,” as an eye-witness of their departure, well recollects the enthusiasm displayed on the occasion. On their way to Gibraltar they fell in with a Sardinian vessel, flying the national tricolour. This was a signal for the exiles to run on deck, and, with deep emotion, salute the flag, the symbol of liberty and good government in Italy. On the 26th of January, they reached Cadiz, where another ship was to be chartered to take them to the United States.
One morning, while at Cadiz, Settembrini was sent for on board the “Ettore Fieramosca,” a message reaching him that an English officer wished to speak to him. Here a great and most agreeable surprise awaited him. His astonishment can scarcely be conceived when he recognised in the English officer his own son Raffaele.[[F]] At this time Raffaele was but a youth in the merchant service. Having been at school in England, he spoke English fluently, and in language and general appearance was well fitted for the character he had assumed. He had taken the name of James, and represented himself as the captain of a merchantman trading between London and Madeira.
[F]. Now a distinguished officer in the Italian Navy.
Anything like friendly converse between father and son at this meeting was, of course, out of the question, but the latter managed to transmit the whispered words, You shall not go to America. Captain “James,” it should be mentioned, had reached Cadiz by means of a plan carried out through the agency of the Neapolitan consul at that port, and concerted in London by Panizzi. All things being thus happily arranged, the party embarked in the American ship, “David Stewart,” commanded by Captain Prentiss. The “David Stewart” was very well found, and comfortable accommodation seems to have been provided for her passengers.
Two days afterwards, she started in tow of the “Stromboli,” and escorted by the “Ettore Fieramosca,” which had orders to see her well out to sea. Having established a good offing, the two Neapolitan men-of-war returned. Captain “James,” meantime, had shown himself equal to the occasion. He had changed his character of master of a merchant vessel for that of steward on board the American vessel. On the night of the Neapolitan’s departure, he communicated to his father a design which he had formed for compelling the Captain to return to Lisbon, adding that, in case resistance was offered, he was provided with arms to enforce compliance.
Settembrini, as might be expected, listened eagerly to his son’s proposal; but, in accordance with his general demeanour, strongly objected to violence of any sort.
The design was forthwith imparted to the exiles, who were sufficiently numerous to carry the point without resort to force. By an accident, they were driven to act a little prematurely, but, as it happened, in no way detrimentally to their ultimate success. A seaman trod on a percussion cap, and the explosion gave the alarm to the captain. On this the passengers at once took action, and, presenting to him a protest against being taken to New York, demanded that he should make for the first port he could reach in England. The captain, one-third of whose freight had been retained as a guarantee for the performance of his contract, remonstrated, and the demand was for the moment not pressed. On the following morning, however, it was repeated in a more decided manner. The exiles drew attention to their numbers, being 66 as against 17 of the ship’s hands; they represented that, having suffered much from their confinement, and many of them being of advanced age, they were not in a state to undergo with safety a long voyage, and added that one of their number, being well skilled in navigation, would manœuvre the ship, in case the captain and crew should refuse their assistance. This skilled seaman was none other than Raffaele, who had appeared in yet a new rôle, and came on deck in a mate’s uniform of the Galway line of steamers. The passengers, of course, met with little further opposition. They quietly took possession of the vessel, setting watches, and taking all precautions to ensure due execution by the captain of their orders, which were to make for Cork. The weather proved obstructive, and the voyage tedious, but in the course of a fortnight, they were safely landed at Queenstown.
Great was the excitement caused here by the arrival of the distinguished visitors, with whom heartfelt sympathy had for so long been expressed in every part of the United Kingdom. Lively as was the pleasure expressed at their safety in these countries, the disappointment felt by the inhabitants of New York, who had prepared for Poerio and his companions the warmest reception, was equally keen. The Italian residents had appointed a Committee to supply funds for the emigrants to return to Sardinia, which was understood to be their destination after America. All was in readiness to give them a cordial welcome. From Mr. Dallas, the American Minister, Panizzi received the following short note:—
“Legation, U.S., London,
March 9th, 1859.
“My dear Mr. Panizzi,
You will see by the enclosed newspaper slips how much my countrymen will be disappointed by the revolt of your friends, and their safe arrival at Queenstown.
Always, &c., &c.,
G. M. Dallas.”
It may be mentioned here that Panizzi, with the concurrence of Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone, placed £100 at the disposal of Settembrini and Poerio, to be delivered to them at Gibraltar, which sum, however, they never received, not having landed there. This loss was soon compensated by the good fortune which, as we have narrated, had now befallen them. Not that the enthusiasm shown in their behalf throughout the country was likely to allow forgetfulness of the necessity for material assistance. One of the first to propose a mode of benefitting them was Charles Dickens:—
“Tavistock House,
March 14th, 1859.
“My dear Panizzi,
If you should feel no delicacy in mentioning, or see no objection to mentioning, to Signor Poerio, or any of the wronged Neapolitan gentlemen to whom it is your happiness and honour to be a friend, on their arrival in this country, an idea that has occurred to me, I should regard it as a great kindness in you if you would be my exponent. I think you will have no difficulty in believing that I would not, on any consideration, obtrude my name or projects upon any one of those noble souls, if there were any reason of the slightest kind against it. And if you see any such reason, I pray you instantly to banish my letter from your thoughts.
It seems to me probable that some narrative of their ten years’ suffering will, somehow or other, sooner or later, be by some of them laid before the English people. The just interest and indignation alive here, will, I suppose, elicit it. False narratives and garbled stories will, in any case, of a certainty get about. If the true history of the matter is to be told, I have that sympathy with them and respect for them which would, all other considerations apart, render it unspeakably gratifying to me to be the means of its diffusion. What I desire to lay before them is simply this. If for my successor to Household Words a narrative of their ten years’ trial could be written, I would take any conceivable pains to have it rendered into English, and presented in the sincerest and best way to a very large and comprehensive audience. It should be published exactly as you might think best for them, and remunerated in any way that you might think generous and right. They want no mouth piece and no introducer; but perhaps they might have no objection to be associated with an English writer, possibly not unknown to them by some general reputation, and who certainly would be animated by a strong public and private respect for their honour, spirit, and unmerited misfortunes. This is the whole matter. Assuming that such a thing is to be done, I long for the privilege of helping to do it. These gentlemen might consider it an independent means of making money, and I should be delighted to pay the money.
In my absence from town, my friend and sub-editor, Mr. Wills (to whom I had expressed my feeling on the subject), has seen, I think, three of the gentlemen together. But as I hear, returning home to-night, that they are in your good hands, and as nobody can be a better judge than you of anything that concerns them, I at once decide to write to you and to take no other step whatever. Forgive me for the trouble I have occasioned you in the reading of this letter, and never think of it again if you think that by pursuing it you would cause them an instant’s uneasiness.
Believe me, &c.,
Charles Dickens.”
In London a Committee for the relief of the exiles was formed, and large sums were received.
The first letter Panizzi received from Poerio was dated from Cork, 27th of March, 1859. In this there was, however, little beyond an acknowledgment of a letter received, and expression of gratitude for the trouble taken on his behalf. Although Poerio, starting from Cork on the 29th of March, soon joined his friends in London, they had but little uninterrupted enjoyment of each other’s company for some time. Invitations poured in for the great exile from every quarter. Amongst his entertainers may be mentioned Lord Granville, the Duke of Sutherland, the Marquis of Lansdowne, and the Duke of Argyll.
The following note of invitation from Lord Palmerston must not be omitted:—
“94, Piccadilly,
April 1st, 1859.
“My dear Panizzi,
Come and dine here to-morrow at eight, and bring Baron Poerio and Settembrini if he likes to come; and don’t mind the date of this note.
Yours sincerely,
Palmerston.”
And Mr. Gladstone wrote on Poerio’s behalf as follows:—
“April 12th.
“My dear Panizzi,
Lady Charlotte Egerton asks, through me, Baron Poerio and any one of his friends to her party to-night. Pray let them appear if possible. They will find me there at 10.15.
Yours, &c., &c.,
W. E. Gladstone.”
This continued dissipation, and the cold of the English climate, from which he suffered intensely, began to weigh heavily on Poerio. He was forced by his state of health to refuse many invitations, and the only other amusement of which we have any record is a visit to the House of Commons on the 18th of April, under the auspices of Lord Shaftesbury.
It would be too much to expect that amongst the large number of sixty-six prisoners, however exalted the political creed which they might profess, there should not be at least one or two black sheep. There were certainly some amongst the lower order of these exiles, with whom Panizzi had a good deal of trouble. Notwithstanding all his rigid justice in apportioning the money of which he had the charge, they vexed him much by claiming more than their share, by accusations of unfairness, and, in some cases, even by the vilest ingratitude and abuse. Nor did they confine their annoyance to him alone. Poerio, writing subsequently (3rd of June, 1859,) from Turin, gives anything but a pleasing account of these gentry who had accompanied him to Italy:—“I have had a great deal of trouble here on account of the English subscription in favour of the exiles. One of them who was destined to receive 250 francs told a great many in secret that this terrible injustice of classification was all my work,” with a good deal more to the same effect, on which it is needless to expend time and space.
But the calls of patriotism were altogether too urgent on Poerio to allow him to spend very much of his time in London society. About the middle of May he left for Turin, where he entered on a long correspondence with Panizzi. Here, for the first time in these volumes, we are able to present the reader with a comprehensive letter from Poerio, although short extracts from others have been given above. His letters are, both in language and style, the acme of combined nervousness and elegance, and we can only express our regret that, to meet the exigencies of the general reader, we are compelled to give this in English, feeling that by translation the beauty and force of the original must materially suffer. Most interesting in themselves, but of still greater value as throwing light on contemporary history, are the accounts of the sad continuance of disorder and misgovernment in the administration of Naples; of the various other complications in the affairs of the Peninsula; the course of action adopted by the French Emperor in connection with the attitude of the Sardinian Government, (which last, Poerio seems to consider occasionally as somewhat hesitating and undecided); and the dawn of the first possibility of effecting the union of distracted Italy, in the achievement of which, however, a thousand difficulties seemed yet to be overcome. Some few necessary excisions of matter of little importance have been made, but this has not materially reduced the bulk of the correspondence. Of Panizzi’s share we unfortunately possess nothing. A good notion, however, of his opinions on Italian, and (as connected with Italian) of European politics, as well as of his unwearying efforts in the cause, and the confidence that his compatriots rested in his exertions and influence here, may be gathered from the communications which he received from his friend and others who had suffered from or witnessed the revolting cruelties committed for so many years in Naples and elsewhere; but there is no querulousness, no recalling of the past; every energy, every aspiration, is devoted to the one glorious object—the unity and independence of Italy:—
“Turin, 21st of August, 1859.
“My dearest Panizzi,
I send you my ideas respecting your project, which would be excellent if it were only practicable.
Your programme, if I mistake not, may be summed up as follows:—The formation of a single Assembly of representatives from the four States of Central Italy, such assembly to proceed immediately—To confirm in common the separate decisions arrived at with regard to the deposition of the Princes and the annexation to Piedmont; to publish a manifesto to Europe, short, but solemn, energetic, and rich in facts which justify this severe but unavoidable determination; to nominate a Regent, who shall assume in its entirety and in the name of the Sardinian Government the exercise of executive power, commencing with the appointment of a commander-in-chief to all the forces now under arms, such forces to be combined and formed into a single army. After this the Assembly would adjourn, leaving the Regent full power to have himself represented at the European Congress called for by this Assembly, in order to obtain a decision in conformity with the solemn vote of the country, and to repel any aggression on the part of anybody who might intend forcibly to reinstate the deposed Princes.
First of all I must take exception in law to the judicial validity of the nomination of a Regent.
A popular Assembly, legitimately elected, has most certainly the right of declaring that the people represented by it intends to choose for its Prince the monarch of another State, and intends to identify itself with that State. But after this decision has been arrived at, the logical and legal order of things would be to address that Prince, in order to ascertain whether he is willing to accept this free and spontaneous surrender. If he accept, he alone can and in fact must nominate an authority to govern the annexed provinces provisionally in his name. The Assembly cannot do this, because, in proclaiming a new Prince, it invests him with the sovereign power. Victor Emmanuel proceeded in this way with the Lombards, who submitted to him of their own free will—that is to say, he nominated a Governor to rule in his name, neither did he act otherwise towards the people from whom he accepted the dictatorship. The only exception to this rule is when it is physically impossible for the Prince who has been proclaimed to speak his mind. It is not so in our case, because the King of Piedmont reigns both by right and in deed, and is personally free. He is, moreover, at the head of an army, and has made himself a champion of the war of independence. It is, therefore, necessary to address him. He is not only able, but is bound to declare himself openly, and in accepting he will be obliged to provide a government for those provinces until an European Congress recognizes the fact as accomplished, and includes him in the new public statute. Most assuredly no one will ever assert that the Congress ought to compel Victor Emmanuel to accept the submission of Central Italy, unless he had openly acceded at the proper time, and acted frankly in conformity with his utterances. Silence in this case might be termed prudent; but it certainly would not be very generous, particularly if it be considered that these people are determined to fight to the last against anybody who would wish to prevent them from belonging to him.
According to your plan, I conclude that King Victor Emmanuel must not only accept the surrender and nominate a Vicegerent or Lieutenant who will govern under his guidance, but must also prepare himself to protect and sustain the annexed provinces to the utmost of his power, and at the same time declare himself ready manfully to repel any aggression. It would, in truth, not only be strange, but indecorous, in a King invoked and proclaimed if he were to act negligently and look on with indifference at the cruel sacrifice of his new people, who are ready to shed the last drop of their blood to preserve their fidelity to him.
But this sacred duty will not be performed, and it is vain to hope for it, because just now a timid rather than a spirited policy prevails in the Piedmontese Cabinet.
I do not wish utterly to condemn it, because I know but too well the gravity of affairs generally, and the difficulties of such a perilous situation. Possibly the requisite boldness would amount to temerity, but it is none the less true that when a man cannot, or does not wish to, run any risk or leave anything to chance, he has no right to look for brilliant or glorious results, neither can he expect to add four millions of people to his own proper subjects without incurring any risk, and merely by remaining a careless spectator of the dangers to which others are exposed....
Let us suppose that the Piedmontese Government can do nothing to display a large amount of energy and tenacity of purpose; let us suppose that, notwithstanding the safe remission, the amalgamation of the four States, the single Assembly, and the unanimous declaration, are matters of supreme importance to the future of Italy, but how can one ever hope for this fusion in the midst of such discordant elements? It is true that the four States have formed a military confederation for mutual defence, but this fact of itself clearly shows that there is no intention of proceeding further, and of forming a single State....
Everybody apparently wishes for the fusion with Piedmont, but a great many object to the idea of a single State. Nor do the Romans and the Tuscans, who are so different in character, in customs, and in aspirations, intend to hold together. The Duchies alone really wish for the union with Piedmont. The Romans would in reality like a separate government, and the Tuscans who reason closely, know that in the actual condition of affairs the fusion with Piedmont is impossible, but they pretend to want it (and voted unanimously for it only yesterday), because it is for the present the only straightforward way of avoiding a relapse into the clutches of the Grand Duke and his myrmidons. In fact, when they had a chance of accomplishing the fusion, although they were advised to take advantage of it, they neither did so nor even desired it. Their own Ambassadors in Paris and London (Peruzzi and Lajatico) put it on one side, advancing instead a number of schemes and solutions, commencing with a Prince of the House of Savoy and finishing with Prince Leuchtenberg. The Times published the document, the Augsburg Gazzette has repeated it with evident satisfaction, and they have not denied it.
Lajatico (as you tell me) now writes in the same way as Marliani—that is, for the formation of a single Assembly which is to repeat the vote for annexation to Piedmont, forgetting that Parma has no Assembly, and on account of the unfortunate dissensions and paltry points of honour between the two rival cities of that nutshell, poor Manfredi has been obliged to have recourse to a Plebiscite; that, moreover, to escape from the machinations of an Armelonghi, who wanted to supplant him, he has been compelled to call upon Farini to act as Dictator, For my own part, I think that henceforth neither Marliani, nor Peruzzi, nor Lajatico, nor Linati will be able to persuade the people or obtain the one single Assembly as proposed by you. But even conceding that our respective friends fully approve, and supposing that everybody consents, also that there is an unanimous declaration of the desire to become Piedmontese, that Europe is called to witness it, and that a sole Regent is appointed (a matter of considerable difficulty in view of the passions, and ambition, and rivalry, and suspicion aroused), and conceding, moreover, that everything should go on according to a preconceived idea, let us see what would in all probability occur in actual practice.
Your dilemma is this: by such an arrangement you either succeed in convening an European Congress, which will deliberate upon the present abnormal and disturbed condition of central Italy, or the failure will at least be glorious. In the first case, therefore, you only rest upon a hope, and a hope that is evaporating daily, since France at heart does not so far wish for the Congress, and I do not see who is to force it on her.
I must say that Lord John Russell’s noble declaration to the effect that England does not intend to take part in any Congress, unless the bases of peace and rearrangement of Italy are different from those defined in the preliminaries at Villafranca, so that room may be left for discussion, does great honour to his high political capacity; but his declaration does not in the smallest degree further the possibility of this European Congress, particularly if it be borne in mind that those preliminaries are now being reduced at Zurich, to a definitive peace upon still more onerous conditions, and with the intervention of Sardinia.
The first part of the dilemma being disposed of, the second remains. I fully agree that in fighting manfully the fall will be glorious, but this glory will belong solely to the combatants, and will redound to the perpetual ignominy of Piedmont, which is condemned by some of its antecedents, and is perhaps obliged by dire necessity to remain a quiet though armed spectator of the struggle. The same Piedmont that has nevertheless assumed the magnanimous task of the redemption of Italy: that Piedmont which is the only State possessing the backbone of national strength; that Piedmont which contains in itself the fortunes of the Italy of the future, and to which we must all at least give our moral support, so that it may not utterly lose its reputation by too openly showing either its present impotence or the paltriness of its policy of partial aggrandizement—a policy which is, perhaps, a supreme necessity of the novel situation wherein an imprudent peace has placed it.
But let us see whether there is not a third hypothesis besides these two, and perhaps something even more probable, because I consider it certain that Central Italy cannot all be annexed to Piedmont, and likewise certain that France will not consent to the forcible restorations.
I maintain, in fact, that there will be no restorations at all, and my opinion is not shaken either by Reiset’s journey or by the mission of Poniatowski, nor even by the reception of one of the fugitive Princes at the Tuileries. I hold that the Emperor will permit the convocation of the Assembly devised by you, exactly as he has allowed the gathering of the local Assemblies and the record of their votes in favour of Piedmont.
But will this fact create any necessity for a Congress? Herein lies the essential part of it. You dare not make the assertion, and I tell you most distinctly that the Congress will never take place. But what will occur instead? Precisely that which Napoleon is now preparing with so many twists and turns—namely, the formation of a Central Italian State, of which his cousin will be the monarch—a State that will be located upon the two seas, and that will cut Italy in halves, putting an end to all communication between the Sardo-Lombardian States and that of the Two Sicilies, and excluding for ever any hope of future aggrandizement.
The means for arriving at this end are simple. He will praise the high-minded proposal, but will lament its impracticability. He will recall to mind the preliminaries of Villafranca, and the consent that was given for the restorations, and he will make it appear that those conditions can be modified in the Zurich negotiations (which depend solely upon him for their continuance), but never in the sense of annexation to Piedmont. He will have it whispered in the ears of those in power that in order to elude the ravenous claws of eaglets they will have to confide themselves to the care of the Imperial Eagle. Montanelli and his set (who did not abstain from voting for Piedmont without a reason) will then come forward.
They will have a long train of people prepared for the purpose, and the Prince will be trumpeted forth from all corners. They will demand universal suffrage, and Napoleon, son of Jérome, will be hailed King of Etruria....
Now, what am I to do in such a deplorable state of affairs? Exiles in general are not treated with much consideration, particularly when they want to give gratuitous advice. Everyone naturally says, here is a man who was not able to preserve his own country wanting, forsooth, to teach others how to save theirs; and there are certain people going about those provinces (especially some of my compatriots with whom I should not like on any account to be confused.) Altogether (take note of this) I am suspicious of the very persons that I ought to see, and I cannot trust the sincerity of their assurances. Besides Farini, Minghetti, and Ricasoli (the three men upon whom things entirely depend) have been already advised from your place, and have received their instructions from Marliani and Lajatico.
My journey would create a heap of absurd rumours without resulting in any advantage, seeing that I shall certainly not succeed in persuading them, if they will not be persuaded, and if, after all, they are already convinced, the trouble would go for nothing.
But to what conclusion does all this lead us?
In Italy itself you will never be able to combat Napoleon’s policy as long as Italy remains in its present condition—that is to say, while he keeps Piedmont subject to continual pressure, occupies Lombardy with eighty thousand men, is the sole arbiter of affairs in Zurich, holds the Pope with vain hopes in a state of uncertainty, and caresses the Bourbons of Naples, lending them courage to resist the representations of England.
It was perhaps a great error to have invoked his aid at all, and I do not intend to disguise the fact; but the error of the Tory Cabinet in allowing him to come alone was certainly greater. It is not now a question of expelling him, because this could not be brought about without war, and everybody has either had enough or is averse to it.
It is merely a question of limiting his influence, in the same way that the war was localised. We must give him a fragment in order to save the remainder, strengthening this Subalpine Kingdom and perhaps the Southern Kingdom too, at the expense of the territory of the Pope, whose temporal dominions cannot last any longer. But this Southern Kingdom must cease to be the prey of a party that is so infamously reactionary, and the civil government must be restored upon the basis of true liberty. This particular change, which will infuse new spirit into the life of Italy, is not difficult of attainment now that the true Mayor of the Palace and virtual King is Filangieri, a man of large and tractable conscience, if those metallic wires which actuate it are properly manipulate.
But all this cannot be originated in Italy. In order to obtain such a result we must work elsewhere, and work[work] with all our might.
A plan will be submitted to Lord John Russell by a person who is exceedingly[exceedingly] well versed in Italian affairs, and whose political instincts are of the highest. This plan is admirable in its simplicity, and not difficult to carry out if there be hearty goodwill towards the work, and it be taken in hand at once....
Yours most affectionately,
Carlo Poerio.”
On the 22nd of May, 1859, Ferdinand II., King of the Two Sicilies, died. The news of his death was not received with that universal burst of lamentation which follows when the world at large has suffered an irreparable loss. Indeed, it is painful to relate that throughout a considerable portion of the Christian and civilized world the sad tidings were even welcomed, and with an unseemly manifestation of rejoicing; not a few seeming even to be of opinion that a great obstacle of Christianity and civilization had at length been mercifully removed.
