That Panizzi, in after years, disagreed “in toto” with his friend’s principles is notorious; but the actual origin of their estrangement will for ever remain a mystery. In November, 1844, an article appeared in the “North British Review,” written by Panizzi, and entitled “Post-Office Espionage.” The opening of Mazzini’s letters at the Post-Office, and their perusal by the authorities, formed the subject of this treatise, and those revelations immediately aroused John Bull to a pitch of honest indignation—“highly creditable to the moral feeling and sound, good sense of the nation.” We learn from this article that Mazzini’s suspicions were first awakened by observing that his letters were doubly stamped; the stamp of 2 o’clock in the afternoon, for instance, superseding that of 12 at noon. Having read in an Austrian paper that the English authorities had undertaken to watch the proceedings of the Italian refugees in Great Britain, the idea struck Mazzini that it was not improbable that recourse might be had to opening his letters. This was communicated to Panizzi, who strongly dissuaded Mazzini from giving credence to such strange suspicions regarding the English Government. He spurned this well-meant counsel, posted letters directed to himself and to others, in the presence of witnesses, and found that whilst the other letters were regularly delivered, his own were as frequently delayed; he sealed them with wax, placing the impression in a particular position, and then discovered that that position of the seal had been changed. Another artifice was resorted to. Grains of sand were enclosed in letters: they reached other parties safely, but had disappeared from the letters directed to himself. This, on the 14th of June, 1844, induced Mr. T. S. Duncombe, Member for Finsbury, to present a petition from four gentlemen, living at No. 47, Devonshire Street, Queen Square, alleging that their letters had been delayed and opened by the authorities at the Post-Office. Sir James Graham, the Home Secretary, did not deny that he had issued his warrant for the adoption of such a course, adding, moreover, that a power was given by Statute to the Secretary of State to open letters in transit through the Post-Office. This led to some members of the Liberal side taking up the subject with much warmth, and denouncing such proceedings as despotic and perfectly unconstitutional. Their own action was not altogether left undefended by the Ministers. Mr. Duncombe, though unsuccessful, showed no disposition to let the matter rest here, and ultimately succeeded in the formation of a Committee of both Houses, composed of some of the most eminent amongst their respective members. A report was printed, showing that the warrants of the Secretary of State in previous cases were issued only on peculiar emergencies. There was no other result from this affair, except that a Bill was introduced by Lord Radnor in the Upper House for the abolition of the power complained of; it was not, however, carried beyond the first reading.
The correspondence between Panizzi and Mazzini was by no means frequent, and soon after this disgraceful scandal we find him sending to Panizzi proofs of the well-known printed letter addressed to Sir James Graham, and asking his advice on the matter.
So far has been traced the acquaintance of these two men from documentary evidence; but the biographer can bring forward personal reminiscences of this extraordinary man. Often has he heard Panizzi relate how, on a certain journey, whilst waiting for a seat in the stage coach running between France and Italy, one morning early, almost before daybreak, he, on taking his seat, recognised close to him the figure of a man, in blue spectacles, and carefully enveloped in his long Italian cloak. It was no other than his quondam friend Mazzini, who, finding his incognito discovered, whispered “Per amor di Dio, Signor Panizzi!!!” (For the love of God, Signor Panizzi!!!) As might be expected, Panizzi assured him of his perfect safety. The frontier was passed, after a most scrutinizing search by the French and Piedmontese authorities.
The biographer also remembers one afternoon, about the year 1860, whilst walking down Fleet Street, in the company of Panizzi, being desired to look towards the left, on doing which, he perceived a man of very dark complexion, in a shabby black coat, with a silk kerchief wound round and round his neck, without collar, waistcoat buttoned high, and with downcast eyes, standing by the side of one of the small archways of what was but recently Temple Bar. Panizzi observed, “That is Mazzini.” No bow, no sign of recognition passed between them. That the subject of this memoir never afterwards communicated with his compatriot would be a deviation from the truth, for in April, 1864, when Garibaldi visited London, on the day, or soon after, it was publicly announced that the Italian hero intended to leave England, the present writer was the bearer of a note, penned by Panizzi, from whom he received instructions to deliver it safely into the hands of Mazzini. This occurrence took place early in the morning; so early, indeed, that day had scarcely dawned when he left his friend’s residence at the British Museum, where he was then staying.
This is but a slight sketch of the connection between Panizzi and Mazzini, from which it may be gathered that no great warmth existed between the two, for the latter was too impetuous to consort with the former, who was imbued with common sense as well as with patriotic motives in all his actions.
Let us now confine ourselves more immediately to Panizzi himself, and whilst giving particulars of the various occurrences at this period, the destruction of the famous Portland Vase, must not be passed over.
On the 7th of February, 1845, Panizzi, at about a quarter to four, when descending the staircase of the Museum, leading from the room where the vase stood, to the outer door, observed the perpetrator of this singular piece of barbarity in the act of running away; and he used to relate, with the greatest emotion, how delighted he should have been to stop him (as he might have done), had he known the man’s dastardly conduct, and to have inflicted on the spot that chastisement which the law was powerless to administer. The suddenness and unexpectedness of the deed probably saved the rascal from an immediate attack; he had seized an ancient brick kept in the room, and deliberately aimed it at the treasure, nor would he, on being questioned at the time, give any account of the motives which had prompted him to commit so wilfully mean and base an act. His name was William Lloyd, a native of Dublin. No time was lost in conveying him to Bow Street, where he was remanded by the sitting magistrate. The utmost punishment the magistrate, Mr. Jardine, was able to inflict—£3, or two months in default—was absurdly inadequate (as true believers in art know only too well) to so signal an offence. The money was moreover paid very soon after by some perverse sympathiser, and the offender was set free.[[H]]
So much then for the Portland Vase and its ignominious and cruel fate: at the time of its occurrence the affair caused a great stir.
In the month of June, 1845, Panizzi made an application to the Trustees to grant him twelve weeks’ holidays, in lieu of the usual annual vacation; on the very excusable plea that, for several years past, extra official duties had obliged him to forego the greater portion of his allowed and legitimate leave. He was promptly, and with the consideration that all servants of the Trustees have ever experienced on such special and reasonable applications, whether for the sake of their health or for visiting foreign countries, and thus acquiring valuable knowledge—granted the twelve weeks’ holidays.