CHAPTER XXVI
Death of Mr Ellice; Garibaldi in London; Massimo d’Azeglio; Foscolo’s remains removed to Florence; Panizzi’s desire to Retire; Correspondence; Death of Lord Palmerston; Superannuation; Portrait; Museum Staff; Private Residence.
During 1863 Panizzi repeated his visit to Biarritz, and his Italian friends urged him to see the Emperor Napoleon, and to cultivate that potentate’s friendship. With reference to their arguments, he thus wrote to Mr Ellice: ‘I am urged by Lacaita and Pasolini to go, who think I may do some good, which I do not hope in the least.’ However, he went; but on the 15th of October, 1863, he wrote to Mrs Haywood: ‘I have been abroad on a visit to the Emperor and the Empress of the French, with whom I spent four weeks. I might have remained a little longer, but on receiving the news of the death of Mr. Ellice, the greatest friend I had lost since I lost one (Mr. Haywood) still more dear to me, and to whom I owed more, I hasten back to England.... My rheumatic pains have become more violent, and curiously, or rather unfortunately enough, my right wrist is more affected than my other joints, which renders my writing always difficult and painful—at times impossible. As you may conceive, as writing is what I must do, this distresses me greatly. At night, too, I suffer particularly, and am kept from sleeping, so that in the daytime I cannot work as energetically as I used to do, and as is required of one who fills my place. I have often thought of resigning, but the Trustees won’t hear of it, and flatter me by saying I am absolutely necessary to the Museum, which I do not think!’
In fact Panizzi, with all his conscientious care of himself, that he might still be fit for office, had never succeeded in rooting out the seeds of that illness from which he suffered so much in 1862. The same exhausting sleeplessness at night wore him out, and every symptom of disease seemed aggravated. How acute were his sufferings the biographer well remembers, and how, notwithstanding all, he never relaxed the undeviating regularity of his attendance to official duties.
His health was in the very worst state when he received from General Garibaldi a letter—very brief—announcing an intention of visiting London. This news, which, under other circumstances, might have been a source of unalloyed gratification, was not altogether welcome, as it foreboded extra work in Panizzi’s then condition, and he well knew that on him would devolve much extra care and supervision on behalf of the great patriot. The entry of this illustrious hero into the metropolis, the manner of his reception by the people, and the acclamations with which so popular a stranger was greeted, will not have faded from the recollection of the majority of our readers. On the 15th of April, 1864, Garibaldi dined with Panizzi. The guests entertained at the banquet were the Duke of Sutherland, the Earl of Shaftesbury, Lord Wodehouse, Lord Frederick Cavendish, Mr. Gladstone, Lord Granville, Sir John, now Lord Acton, and the present writer. At the end of dinner the General addressed his host, expressing a strong and sincere desire to visit the tomb of Ugo Foscolo, whose friendship for the subject of the memoir has been mentioned in a former chapter, and who was buried, it will be remembered, at Chiswick.
In accordance with this wish, at the early hour of five o’clock on the morning of the 20th of April, Panizzi and the present writer started from the Museum to call on the General. They found him in bed, half asleep; but, in compliance with their summons, he arose, and in somewhat less than ten minutes came downstairs, having thus promptly prepared himself, as became a soldier.
A brougham was ready to convey the three to their destination at Chiswick; and it was on this occasion that, for the first time, was suggested the advisability of Garibaldi’s departure from London. Arrived at Foscolo’s tomb, the General requested his friend to address the crowd which their appearance had collected from all sides; the latter did not, however, hesitate to declare frankly that such a course would be contrary to the customs of this country. Not far from these two distinguished personages stood, towering above those surrounding him, a brewer’s man, of gigantic proportions, who delivered himself in the following words:—Gentlemen, the man who is buried there has done with the pen what Garibaldi has accomplished with the sword! Nothing in the way of a speech could have been more appropriate, and so thought all present.
Panizzi had written to Massimo d’Azeglio on the subject of Garibaldi’s visit to London and his reception there. Azeglio’s most interesting reply will be found at page 478 of the Lettere ad Antonio Panizzi, &c., Firenze, 1880, and will repay perusal. It is dated the 25th of July, 1864, and occupies six pages, but space will only allow us to give some extracts in a free translation:—
“I have always admired Garibaldi. When he was beaten at Cesenatico I treated for peace with Austria, and endeavoured to save him. Then I got him a pension which he accepted for his mother and refused for himself. I think with you that he is one of the choicest natures created by the Almighty—a lover of his country, enterprising, substantially humane and generous, averse to cupidity, and he has rendered eminent services ... but, after all, let me add that no deserts, no extent of service, entitle a citizen to set himself above the laws of his country and to violate them. No one is allowed to create imperium in imperio, to treat with his sovereign as an equal, to outrage and ignore the constituted authorities, or to assume the permanent decision of peace and war.... Garibaldi, by instinct shy and mild, has been thrust forward by scamps for their own purposes, and they have intoxicated him with flattery that would have turned the brain of the hardest head, much more his....
“You say that we are behindhand in respect for the laws, and that we ought to follow the example of the English. Let us see:—
“After Aspromonte I was a member of the Council of Ministers which was to decide the fate of Garibaldi. I said: Bring him to trial like any other citizen, and after sentence let him he immediately pardoned by the King.... But it was thought better to grant him amnesty, which he refused, saying that he had only done his duty.... Many of the Council were of my opinion, and so were most of the people in the country.... Before Aspromonte Garibaldi was elected by acclamation in thirty districts; after Aspromonte by ballot in two. The Italians said, we don’t want prophets above the laws; one said even, we don’t want him to come as a second Redeemer.
“Do you think we are so very much behindhand?
“Let us now turn to the English people. Garibaldi went to them with the harbinger of a fantastic legend such as no one ever had before. I should have thought it natural for him to be received, applauded, exalted, clubbefied, and dinnered by the whole population, including the Italians in London. But that a man who boasted of superiority to the laws, a man still reeking with the blood of Italian soldiers whom he had slain, should be officially received by the State, by Parliament, by the Ministers, by the heir of the English throne, with honours never accorded to any sovereign ... and this while he who was receiving them was the declared friend of Mazzini, who, could he have got the chance, would have had all such personages hanged, that this should have happened amongst a people that thinks it has a mission to preserve intact the idea of truth, of justice, and of honour, must be bitterly deplored by every one of sound common sense, and I cannot persuade myself that you think differently.”
To this we will append a translation of another letter from the same writer, which will speak for itself.
“Cannero, May 26, 1865.
“Dear Panizzi,
You will understand that I adopt Galileo’s experimental method, not the doctrine of one of the Aristotelians.
I had heard a worthy person speak of Spiritualism, and I said to myself, Let us see, then I will believe.
I have made a series of experiments at home with three or four safe people, so as to be sure there should be no charlatanism. Here is the result, which for me is definitively demonstrated.
1st.—The experiments have produced phenomena absolutely inexplicable by the ordinary laws which govern matter.
2nd.—We put ourselves in communication with an intelligence, to the exclusion of any explanation purely material.
3rd.—It is impossible to establish either the personality or the truthfulness of the said intelligence, hence the final result is but of slight importance for any one who is not a Materialist. I am not so and never have been; so the only benefit that I derived from the experiments was to witness phenomena which before I should have thought impossible.
Those who are Materialists in good earnest ought necessarily to accept Spiritualism.[[H]]
If you should have the same curiosity as I had, and would like to make experiments, you ought to read the Doctrine Spirite, a very common book. It is not right to judge any doctrine until you are acquainted with it, and have tested it.
It was bound to be acceptable to me, because it harmonises with many of my old ideas on the origin of evil, so I found myself at home. I do not say that it absolutely explains the mystery, but it affords a glimpse of a solution much less illogical than that of original sin, much more consistent with divine perfection, and of far greater comfort in the uncertainties to which we are condemned.
Now you know as much about it as I do. If at any time you should make up your mind to come to my place, we can make experiments to your heart’s content.
Take care of yourself and of your friendship for me, and wish me well.
Sincerely yours,
Massimo D’Azeglio.”
[H]. It has often been said that D’Azeglio was a believer in Spiritualism; this letter is, therefore, of importance as a confession of faith on the subject.
In April, 1871, Panizzi received a semi-official letter from General Menabrea, announcing the proposed removal to Florence of Foscolo’s remains. We are bound to say that the recipient did not much approve of this step. He was of opinion that in Santa Croce, where are the tombs of Dante, Michael Angelo, Galileo, Macchiavelli, Alfieri, &c., &c., the exiled patriot would be out of place. However, the following inscription will tell the tale of the interment, removal, and final deposition:—
On the East end of tomb:—
UGO FOSCOLO,
Died September 10, 1827, Aged 50.
On the South side:—
From the Sacred Guardianship of Chiswick,
To the Honours of Santa Croce, in Florence,
The Government and People of Italy
have Transported
The Remains of the Wearied Citizen Poet,
7th of June, 1871.
On the North side:—
This Spot where, for 44 Years,
The Relics of
UGO FOSCOLO
Reposed in Honoured Custody,
Will be for ever held in Grateful Remembrance
By the Italian Nation.
In speaking of Mazzini, mention has been made how the biographer undertook the delivery of a message which resulted in the departure of Garibaldi.
The reader’s forbearance must be solicited for the abruptness with which one subject succeeds another, but at present we are relating a succession of occurrences, not deeply important, yet too interesting and too deeply connected with our narrative to be altogether omitted before entering upon sterner topics. The following note of invitation to Mr. Gladstone is of an amusing character:—
“B. M., January 11th, 1865.
“My dear Sir,
‘Like a good fellow,’ I will certainly dine with you on Tuesday, the 25th instant.
There is an Italian opera buffa, in which a gentleman who wants to become a poet, and takes lessons as to the mechanism of verse from a poet, wishing to ask his master to dine with him, tries to convey his invitation in an hendecasyllable, and begins, Volete pranzare meco oggi? (Will you dine with me to-day?) but it would not do, so he changed, Volete pranzare meco domani? (Will you dine with me to-morrow?) it would not do either, and the poet suggested at once, Volete pranzare meco oggi e domani? (Will you dine with me to-day and to-morrow) a very good line, and so it was settled. Now I have made a line for our dinner here, of which you must approve. Pranzate meco il ventitre e quattro (Dine with me the 23rd and 24th.) The poetry is not good; have patience, and, ‘like a good fellow,’ come both days.
Yours ever,
A. Panizzi.”
Such was the natural humour of the man that, as in this instance, he seldom forebore from giving a jocose turn to his subject when opportunity afforded.
The first written intimation of Panizzi’s serious wish to resign his high office is to be found in a letter to Mr. Gladstone, dated May 25th, 1865.
“British Museum.
“My dear Sir,
On seeing Lacaita yesterday I learnt from him, as I expected, he had communicated to you my intention of retiring from an office which I cannot any longer fill with advantage to the public or satisfaction to myself. I am sorry that you have learnt this intention of mine from a third party and not from me, but if I have abstained from speaking of it to you myself, it has been from motives of delicacy, and not to seem to presume on the kindness you have uniformly shown to me.
My first impulse, indeed, was to speak to you, and to avow how deeply I should feel to separate myself from an Institution to which I owe so much, and in which I take, and shall ever take, more interest than in anything else in the world; but circumstances have arisen that, I fear, render it impossible it can be otherwise.
I do not mean to resign till after the discussion (whatever be its fate) has taken place in the House of Commons; and I then mean to offer to the Trustees my poor services for a limited time and gratis, if they will condescend to accept them, and should they consider them of any use till my successor has got in harness, or any other arrangement is come to which may be considered best for the Museum. I told this to Lacaita yesterday, and you may have already heard it from him.
Yours ever,
A. Panizzi.”
This letter shows how deeply the thought of separation from his beloved Institution, on which he had centered all his energies and aspirations, affected him, and how cogent must have been the reasons which impelled him to meditate such a step.
Mr. Gladstone’s reply was most complimentary, but showed little inclination to fall in with the contemplated scheme; it consisted of original Italian verses, and admirable Italian too, a fine specimen of the abilities of the great statesman in a language not his own.
On the 24th of June, 1865, however, Panizzi informed the Committee of the Trustees that, in justice to the Museum, as well as to himself, the state of his health compelled him, much against his will, to tender to Her Majesty the resignation of his appointment as Principal Librarian. The Report in which he made this communication ran as follows:—
“Mr. Panizzi respectfully represents that he is reluctantly compelled, humbly to beg of the Queen to accept his resignation of the place of Principal Librarian, to which Her Majesty was graciously pleased to appoint him. Mr. Panizzi regrets being obliged, after long hesitation, to take this step; but he finds that neither in justice to this great Institution nor to himself, he ought to continue to hold a place, the duties of which, to be efficiently performed, require a vigour, not only of mind but of body, which Mr. Panizzi is conscious that he no longer possesses.
“Mr. Panizzi hopes that the Trustees will add to the many acts of kindness with which they have been pleased to honour him, that of submitting to Her Majesty’s Treasury the accompanying statement of Mr. Panizzi’s services, and of recommending their Lordships to award him such a superannuation allowance as they may consider just, under the circumstances, in conformity with the Superannuation Act, 1859, sections 2 and 9, with the Treasury letter of the 7th of June, 1860, and with the Treasury Minute of the 24th of August of the same year.
“Should the Trustees do Mr. Panizzi the honour of considering that, on his resignation being accepted by Her Majesty, his knowledge of Museum affairs might be of use to the Trustees for a limited period, to be fixed by themselves, Mr. Panizzi will feel proud if his humble gratuitous services be accepted, until his successor can enter on his duties and become familiar with them.
“As a mark of respect to the Trustees, Mr. Panizzi begs to submit to them his letter of resignation, previously to transmitting it to the Secretary of State to be laid before Her Majesty.”
In consequence of this the subjoined resolutions were passed:—
“Saturday, June 24th, 1865.
“Resolved:—
“1.—The Trustees having heard that Mr. Panizzi proposes to resign his office of Principal Librarian, desire to record their deep sense of the ability, zeal, and unwearied assiduity with which he has discharged the many arduous and responsible duties which from time to time have been committed to him.”
“2.—That, in the opinion of the Trustees, the resignation of Mr. Panizzi, at a period when great changes are contemplated in the administration of the British Museum, is to be peculiarly regretted.”[[I]]
“3.—The Trustees desire to state that the special services of Mr. Panizzi, over and above his ordinary duties, have been of such a nature as to entitle him to a special reward under the provisions of the 9th Section of the Superannuation Act, 1859. They would therefore urge that Mr. Panizzi possesses a just claim to a retiring allowance equal to the full amount of his salary and emoluments.”
“4.—That the Chairman of this meeting is requested to transmit the foregoing resolutions, together with Mr. Panizzi’s report and its accompanying enclosure, to the Lords Commissioners of Her Majesty’s Treasury.”
[I]. This resolution was added on the special suggestion of Mr. Disraeli.
The Trustees present on the occasion were:—The Speaker, in the Chair, the Duke of Somerset, Lord Eversley, Lord Taunton, The Right Hon. S. H. Walpole, The Right Hon. B. Disraeli, The Right Hon. R Lowe, Sir P. de M. Grey Egerton, Bart., Sir R. I. Murchison, Dr. Milman, Major-General Sabine, C. Towneley, Esq., and G. Grote, Esq.
On the 7th of July following, Sir George Grey wrote in answer:—
“... It is with sincere regret that I have learnt that you no longer feel yourself fully equal to the duties of an office which you have so long filled in a manner entirely satisfactory to the Trustees, and eminently conducive to the interests of the Museum.”
He then refers to the resolutions of the Trustees, and continues:—
“Under these circumstances it would afford H.M.’s Government much satisfaction if, without risk of injury to your health, you could continue your valuable services to the Museum, at least until early in the next year. I shall be obliged by your informing me whether you can concur in this arrangement, before I lay the tender of your resignation before Her Majesty.”
The amount of the retiring allowance was £1,400 per annum, a goodly solace for old age and infirmities, yet none too much for the unremitting zeal Panizzi had evinced in the exercise of his important duties.
On the 8th of July he reported to the Trustees his willingness to place himself entirely in their hands, and to continue, should they desire it, his services for a while, an offer of which the Standing Committee gladly availed themselves, expressing a hope that he would continue his valuable exertions until the following year.
Let us, however, leave the Museum, for a few minutes whilst we draw attention to that which, at the time, assumed the proportions of a national calamity.
On the 18th of October, 1865, Lord Palmerston departed this life. How severe a blow this was to Panizzi may be judged from our frequent allusions to the veneration in which he held the distinguished statesman; and that Mr. Gladstone thoroughly understood, and entered into his feelings, the letter now quoted will show:—
“Clumber,
October 18, 1865.
“My dear Panizzi,
Ei fu![[J]] Death has indeed laid low the most towering antlers in all the forest. No man in England will more sincerely mourn Lord Palmerston than you. Your warm heart, your long and close friendship with him, and your sense of all he had said and done for Italy, all so bound you to him that you will deeply feel this loss. As for myself, I am stunned. It was plain that this would come: but sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, and there is no surplus stock of energy in the mind to face, far less to anticipate, fresh contingencies. But I need not speak of this great event. To-morrow all England will be ringing of it, and the world will echo England. I cannot forecast the changes which will follow; but it is easy to see what the first step should be.
I cannot write on any other subject.
Yours ever, and most warmly,
W. E. Gladstone.”
[J]. Manzoni thus begins his famous “Cinque Maggio,” or his Ode on the Death of Napoleon, which has been translated by Mr. Gladstone.
Another year was entered upon, and the Principal Librarian yearned for rest. On the 5th of June, 1866, he addressed a letter to Sir George Grey, earnestly requesting that he might be released from his official duties, and on the 18th of the same month received an answer from the Treasury informing him that immediate steps would be taken to appoint a successor. Eight days afterwards, on the 26th of June, Mr. John Winter Jones was selected as the new Principal Librarian. On finally relinquishing his post, Panizzi addressed the following circular letter to the heads of Departments:—
“British Museum, July 16th, 1866.
“I cannot leave the Museum, and close my official connexion with those with whom I have had the honour and pleasure of serving the Trustees for so many years, without returning to all and each of them individually my warmest thanks for the efficient help which I have received from them in the discharge of my duties. Although conscious of having at all times acted to the best of my ability, and only for the advantage of the Museum and of those connected with it, I wish to add that, if I have ever given unnecessary pain to any one, I regret it most sincerely, and trust that credit will be given to me for having been uniformly influenced solely by a sense of duty.
“Allow me to request that you will bring this communication to the individual knowledge of every person in your Department. I shall always take the warmest interest in their future happiness, and shall never cease to feel the sincerest regard for them.”
Numerous and hearty were the responses, and it must have been highly gratifying to their recipient to know that his endeavours had gained the approval of all, and that, now that the battle was over, so far as he was concerned, he could rest satisfied with his own share in the struggle which had ended so triumphantly for himself. It will be unnecessary to quote more than one of the replies, that from his successor:—
“British Museum, July 18th, 1866.
“I have communicated to all persons in this Department the kind and generous letter you have been so good as to address to me on the subject of your retirement from the post of Principal Librarian. On this event there is but one feeling throughout the Department—that of deep regret that we are about to lose one who has the strongest claims upon us all, not only for acts of personal kindness, but for substantial benefits.
“It is no secret throughout the House that whatever improvement has taken place in the condition of those employed in it has originated with yourself and been won by your exertions. They are indebted to you for increased pay and extended vacations. They are indebted to you for the abolition of the system of payment by the day, which was injurious to the service and painful to the feelings of the gentlemen employed. Your exertions procured for the Library those increased grants which have rendered possible its vast growth and the high position it at present occupies. In short, we feel, and are proud to feel, that all the important improvements in the Institution had their origin in this Department while you were its Chief Officer, and that the very great development of the Museum generally commenced at the period when you became Principal Librarian.
“For myself, I shall always feel most grateful for the unvarying kindness with which you have treated me during the long period of nearly thirty years that I have acted more or less immediately under your superintendence. Your advice, support, and encouragement have never been wanting to me in all cases of difficulty; and if the present state of the Library deserves commendation, it is to you that the praise is mainly due.
“While speaking thus in my own name, I am in fact speaking in the name of all, and only expressing the sentiments which have been conveyed to me by those in the Department. Although officially separated from us, your name must always be inseparably connected with this great Institution; and be assured, my dear sir, that you carry with you into your retirement not only the best wishes, but the warm and affectionate feelings of us all.”
Shortly after he left his post a subscription was set on foot throughout the Museum to present him with a fitting testimonial; this ultimately took the form of a portrait painted by Mr. George Frederick Watts, R.A. It is now hung in, and forms one of the chief ornaments of the Trustees’ Committee-Room. As a likeness it is perfect, by far the most successful example of the kind; as a picture it is one of the finest works of the painter, the modern Tintoretto. Produced in a low and yet powerful key of colour, the whole work exhibits a potent combination of ruddy-brown carnations, with black broken into deep greys—tints which are admirably harmonized with each other, and so happily toned as to produce just and broad chiaro-oscuro. The figure is life-size, three-quarters length, seated in three-quarters view to our right, and easily, as well as sedately, posed in a large chair; the head is slightly bent forward, and the eyes, although directed towards the spectator, are not directed at him; they have an expression of habitual thoughtfulness which is very striking when its influence is felt by the observer, and this is not the less effective because it is undemonstrative. Owing to the position of the eyes themselves, no reflections of the light appear on their surfaces, which by no means common circumstance adds to the gravity, and even to the dignity of the picture, and is perfectly faithful to nature. It increases the repose of the work, and excludes that which is often a disturbing element in designs of equal simplicity and breadth of motive. The steadfast expression of the features, and the restful attitudes of the body and hands, are valuable elements of this very important and impressive master-piece of painting.
We have given an exact and faithful account of the causes which led to Panizzi’s resignation of the office which he had held with honour for so many years, of the manner in which it was carried out, and of the testimonials which it evoked. We have now merely to mention that in the House of Lords a scene was enacted similar to that which took place in the House of Commons on the 21st of April, 1856. Whoever is anxious and willing to enter more fully into that controversy, unpleasant as it was, need only examine Hansard’s Parliamentary Debates, House of Lords, Monday, February the 12th, 1866.
Let us give Panizzi’s own words to prove whether or not he was pleased and satisfied with the treatment he received at the hands of the Trustees. He thus wrote to Mrs. Haywood, on the 15th of July, 1866:—
“The Trustees have behaved most handsomely, and so has the Government, both in words and deeds. First of all ample justice, and perhaps some may say more than justice, was rendered to my long and many services. I shall certainly remain in London, the pension I am to get being ample for my wants; and now, my dear Mrs. Haywood, let me add a few words from my heart. The first feeling, when my future was settled, was one of deep grief, that the friend who would have so heartily rejoiced at the close of my honourable career, who cheered me when lonely and unknown, who thought of my welfare as much as he did of his own, that he was no longer here. This feeling overwhelmed me for a moment, and even now I can hardly master it.”
It was a common remark of Panizzi’s that during his long official career he had never, with very few exceptions, (and even then he felt he had acted for the best) shown favour to any one employed in the British Museum who had not afterwards become an honour to the Institution, and of this we have ample documentary evidence, dating so far back as the year 1837.
In the month of June, 1855, requiring the services of a Hebrew scholar, he applied to the firm of Asher, of Berlin, to recommend such a gentleman. Accordingly a certain young man of 23, and a Jew, endowed with natural ability, who understood Latin, Greek, and French, of strict moral integrity, and of faultless character, and thoroughly respectable was introduced to the Keeper of the Printed Books; this was Emanuel Deutsch, afterwards well-known as the writer of several letters to The Times respecting the discovery and reading of the Moabite Stone, and the article in the Quarterly Review on the Talmud. This Assistant was one whose talents his superior officer did not fail to recognise. Unfortunately death claimed him at an early age on the 14th of May, 1873.
It is a somewhat delicate subject to touch upon, but, as we are discussing these matters, we feel bound to mention by name others who were, in a manner of speaking, Panizzi’s children; and let us hope we are not exaggerating or exceeding our proper limits by remarking that they looked up to him as their protector and adviser. For example, Mr. E. Maunde Thompson, the present Keeper of MSS., was ever held by him in high estimation, and also, in an equal degree, were Mr. John T. Taylor, Mr. John Cleave, and Mr. Richard Garnett.
The first of these became his intimate friend, and it was also through his intervention that Mr. Taylor gave such valuable literary aid to the late Princess Mary Liechtenstein, in the compilation of the interesting volumes entitled “Holland House.” Mr. Cleave, then, as now, the Accountant of the Museum, had, as we know, many lengthy discussions with Panizzi on financial matters, and, indeed, the opinions of the latter on these points were always regarded as decisive. Greatly esteemed also was Mr. Garnett, whose appointment as Superintendent of the Reading-Room rejoiced the ex-Librarian extremely. Nor, although he has left the Museum, should the name of Mr. W. R. S. Ralston remain unmentioned.
Many more names might be enumerated; one, however, we will not omit—that of the clever mechanician and metal-worker, Mr. Sparrow, who, by his ingenuity, contrived or carried out many appliances for the comfort of the aged Librarian. All were labouring in unison as Panizzi’s barque was nearing the harbour, after its eventful voyage; and truly reciprocal were the feelings of friendship and respect which had grown up between Panizzi and his fellow-workers—friendship in full stream, flowing from the purest sources.
In this manner, applauded on all sides, beloved and respected, did the Principal Librarian retire from the position he had gained step by step by hard and uninterrupted labour. Still the memory of the past clung to him—still he would have devoted, had it been possible, his waning physical and mental strength to the internal and external workings of that Institution upon which he had so persistently set his heart. His own words bear witness to the affection he retained for the vicinity of his past efforts:—“I have got,” wrote he, “a house. It is in a very unfashionable quarter, though very respectable, near here, being 31, Bloomsbury Square.” So it was that he still desired to linger with his memories and experiences within sight of the building which had cost him so much in brain and body, and those who read these pages may easily conceive how far his thoughts were interwoven with his expressions.
We have endeavoured faithfully to detail the circumstances of this eventful life, until the time arrived when, succumbing to the stern dictates of nature, Panizzi was compelled to retire behind those scenes which his presence had so long graced.
When the actor or the author departs from the boards where his production or his acting has delighted audiences, how acute is the grief of parting with his admirers! Who does not remember the almost ominous words of the late Charles Dickens, when, at the last of his readings, he made use of the remarkable expression, From these garish lights I vanish now for evermore, with a heartfelt, grateful, respectful, and affectionate farewell? These words—though, of course, not exactly applicable to the present case—may be strained so far as to indicate the deep feeling with which a different, but not less successful, contributor to public requirements was severing himself from labours which had been to him pre-eminently a “labour of love,” and may justly be cited as implying the same affectionate remembrance of his fellow-workers and those who appreciated his undoubtedly great abilities. In addition to a faithful recital of facts and an unprejudiced view of the career of the chosen subject of any memoir, a biographer owes somewhat more to his readers. No life is worth recounting unless it affords an example worth following, or unless it is acknowledged at the first to have been set forth for some other specific purpose, either as mere matter for history, or as the life of one whose errors were so great that it is thought advisable to reproduce them as a warning to future would-be evil-doers.
Nothing appertains to the present biography but an intent to put before the world a man who, under the most adverse circumstances and with the most beneficial intentions, by sheer perseverance and by unflinching energy, attained the object of his heart’s desire—a desire that has redounded to his lasting praise.
No words of our own shall be used. Let those of Dean Milman be quoted as our justification for what has been already said of the subject of our memoir. On the 5th of February, 1866, writing from the “Deanery of St. Paul’s,” he used these words:—“As to his (Panizzi’s) public services, his long and most careful connection with the British Museum cannot be more fully or justly appreciated than by yourself” (this letter was addressed to Sir R. I. Murchison), “and I am sure that we should entirely agree on this subject. Above all, the great national gift of the Reading-Room, the envy and admiration of Europe, is, as you well know, almost his entire creation, from the original design to the most minute detail—from the dome to the inkstands and bookshelves.”
Those who knew Dean Milman will acknowledge the worth of a testimonial thus given by such a man to the value of Panizzi’s labours.
Yet it is not here that we must stop short; an unbiassed account has been rendered of his difficulties at the outset of his career, never resting he persevered in his onward journey where ordinary men would have resigned the effort. His own national misfortunes were enough to occupy his time and thoughts; yet he found opportunities to attend to all business that pressed upon his attention.
These are the facts and uncontrovertible facts; and the details upon which we have fully entered must excite admiration for the man who could thus concentrate his mind upon duties of the most onerous description, and yet, when occasion required, be found able and willing to befriend a cause which was unquestionably as dear to his heart as any other—viz., the liberty, freedom, and happiness of his own beloved Italy.
No undue exaltation of Panizzi is intended on the part of the biographer; wherever such may seem to be attributed, it is from no personal panegyric of his own.
Numerous letters might be adduced corroborative of the estimation in which the deceased was held—letters whose signature place their contents beyond suspicion; but they are withheld lest a charge of adulation should be laid at the author’s door, that charge he has studiously endeavoured to avoid.
At this important point in the narrative it has been thought nothing but reasonable to pause, before entering upon topics connected with the last years of this eminent man.
