The reader will rightly think that these are the incredible fictions of a bygone time, but he will conclude wrongly if he thinks they have ceased.
Lately, not a nameless but a known and responsible person, one Sir Edward Hertslet, K.C.B., a Foreign Office official, published a volume in which he related that in 1848 (the 10th of April year, when no political historian was sane) a stranger called at the Foreign Office to inquire for letters for him from abroad. A colleague of Sir Edward's suggested that he should inquire at the Home Office. The strange gentleman replied indignantly, "I will not go to the Home Office. My name is Mazzini." This answer Sir Edward put in quotation marks, as though it was really said. Sir Edward has been in the Diplomatic service. He has been a Foreign Office librarian, and is a K.C.B., yet for more than fifty years he has kept this astounding story by him, reserved it, cherished it, never suspected it, nor inquired into its truth.
Mazzini was not a man to give his name to a youth (as Sir Edward was then) at the Foreign Office. He never went there. It is doubtful whether any letter ever came to England bearing his name. He was known among his friends as Mr. Flower or Mr. Silva. When the late William Rathbone Greg wished to see him, he neither knew his name nor where he resided, and his son Percy—who was then writing for a journal of which I was editor—was asked to obtain from me an introduction, and it was only to oblige me that Mazzini consented to see Mr. W. R. Greg. Sir James Graham never opened any letter addressed to Mazzini, for none ever came. He opened letters of other persons, as every Foreign Secretary before him and since has done, in which might be enclosed a communication for Mazzini. Was it conceivable that the Foreign Office, then known to secretly open Mazzini's letters, would be chosen by the Italian exile as a receiving house for his letters, and have communications sent to its care, and addressed in his name? Was it conceivable that Mazzini would go there and announce himself when the Foreign Office was acting as a spy upon his proceedings in the interest of foreign Governments? This authenticated Foreign Office story would be too extravagant for a "penny dreadful," yet not too extravagant, in Sir Edward Hertslet's mind, to be believable by the official world now, and was sent or found its way to Foreign Embassies and Legations for their delectation and information. Yet Sir Edward was not known as a writer of romance, or novels, or theological works, nor a poet, or other dealer in imaginary matters. His book was widely reviewed in England, and nowhere questioned save in the Sun during my term of editorship in 1902.
Mazzini preached the doctrine of Association in England when it had no other teacher. Much more may be said of him—but Sir James Stansfeld is dead, and Madame Venturi and Peter Alfred Taylor. Only Jessie White Mario and Professor Masson remain who knew Mazzini well. But this chapter may give the public a better conception than has prevailed of Mazzini's career in England.
CHAPTER XVIII. MAZZINI THE CONSPIRATOR
There have been many conspirators, but Mazzini appears to have been the greatest of them all. In one sense, every leader of a forlorn hope is a conspirator. Prevision, calculation of resources, plans of campaign—mostly of an underground kind—are necessary to conspiracy. The struggles of Garrison and Wendell Phillips for the rescue and sustentation of fugitive slaves are well-known instances of underground conspiracy. There the violence of the slave-owner made conspiracy inevitable. In despotic countries, without a free platform and a free press, the choice lies between secret conspiracy and slavery. When Mazzini began to seek the deliverance of Italy he had to confront 600,000 Austrian bayonets. How else could he do it than by conspiracy?
Those are very much mistaken who think that the occupation of promoting or taking part in a forlorn hope is a pastime to which persons disinclined to business or honest industry, betake themselves. The spy, for instance, who is a well-known instrument in war, takes the heroism out of it. The sinister activity of the spy turns the soldier into a sneak. Honourable men do, indeed, persuade themselves that if by deceit they can obtain knowledge of facts which may save the lives of many on their own side, it is right. At the same time they also betray to death many on the other side, including some who have trusted the spy in his disguise. But whatever success may attend the deceit of the spy, he can never divest himself of the character of being a fraud; and a fraud in war is only a little less base than a fraud in business. But it is the perils of even the patriotic spy, which are so often under-estimated. If discovered by the enemy, he is sure to be shot; and he runs the risk of being killed on suspicion by friends on his own side—too indignant to inquire into the nature of the suspicions they entertain. The spy dare not communicate the business he is upon to his friends. Somehow it would get out; then the spy would surely walk the plank, or hang from the gallows as Andre did. The spy's own friends being ignorant of the secret duty he has undertaken, observe him making the acquaintance of the enemy—hear of him being seen in communication with them—and he becomes distrusted and disowned by those whom he perils his life to serve. Mazzini detested the Cabinets, or the Generals, who employed spies. He made war by secrecy—open war being impossible to him—but never by treachery. Some who had suffered and were incensed by personal outrage or maddening oppression, would act as spies in revenge. Because these were done on the side of Italian independence, Mazzini was accused of inspiring them and employing them.