The subject of the following “Memoirs,” so far as regards the two points above mentioned, would seem to offer most favourable conditions for the pen of the biographer; nevertheless, the writer confesses that the very facility presented has caused difficulties to spring up in his way. Though utterly a novice in such work, an ardent longing has possessed him to write of one with whom he lived for twenty years on terms of the most intimate friendship, little, if at all, inferior in warmth to consanguineous affection. He has deemed it his duty, after duly weighing the many communications received from his friend in hours of confidential intercourse, and regarding them as illustrative not only of the life of the man himself, but in their wider sense as pertaining to contemporary history, and elucidating the opinions of the great statesmen and other notable individuals with whom the subject of this memoir was in daily intercourse—to show forth his life to the world, calling to aid personal memories of the events recorded, original documents in the writer’s own possession or those he could obtain from others, besides information given orally by friends.
That life, chequered even at the outset by struggle and adventure, devoted to incessant activity, and bound up, as it were, with all the stirring public events of the most active period of our age, being of necessity gathered from documents so voluminous as to constitute a veritable “embarras de richesses”—a plethora of material—the mere task of condensation and selection has proved a formidable one; whilst the arrangement of facts following closely on one another has presented at times considerable difficulty.
Other causes have stimulated the biographer in his work, inasmuch as he himself was not unconcerned in some of the more important and exciting events of the life which he records. The struggles of oppressed nationalities, the numerous revolutions and changes of dynasty, the intrigues of politicians throughout Europe, the face of which may be said to have been changed during the middle of this century, the varied events at home, and the vicissitudes of the country which his friend had adopted for his own, and for which he evinced unswerving affection and fidelity, have supplied matter which must be treated at some length in order to depict his life in its true light, and to represent adequately the motive power which prompted his ways and actions.
These matters may be but feebly and imperfectly shadowed forth here, and scant justice may possibly have been done to the varied details; nevertheless, these pages will be recognised as an earnest endeavour to sketch the life of a meritorious, able, and—it might without exaggeration be added—in his way a great man.
Where events follow their forerunners with extreme rapidity, where it is sometimes necessary to record circumstances which are simultaneous, it requires the greatest care and discrimination to avoid confusion, and to present the subject clearly to the reader’s mind. The utmost pains have been taken in these volumes to maintain correct chronological order: dates are almost always given, so that no doubt shall arise and no uncertainty exist as to the time of action. Should quotations appear at any time too copious or prolix, the author asks the indulgent reader to impute this to his idea of the importance of perspicuity in dealing with an intricate subject.
With these remarks we enter upon our arduous but pleasant task, with a profoundly sincere hope that from a life of so much energy and perseverance, our readers may extract for themselves an example worthy of admiration and imitation.
Men have not lived in vain when, either by indomitable spirit they have left behind encouragement for their fellow-men to enter as keenly as themselves into the battle of life, or have proved in their own persons how strict integrity and undeviating rectitude finally bring their reward; and such an example, we venture to declare, was the subject of this memoir.
In the territory of Modena, on the right bank of the River Po, stands an ancient town formerly called Brixellum or Brexillum, hodie Brescello. Father Bardetti (Lingua dei primi abitatori d’Italia) informs us that the name of “Brescello” is derived from the remote Gallo-Germanic words Brig, a bridge, and sella, to observe. With all due respect to the learned father, to his skill in philology, and to his knowledge of the Gallo-Germanic dialect, our opinion is that the names Brixellum and Brescello are simply the common diminutives of Brixia and Brescia respectively, a town not one hundred miles from Brescello.
However that may be, it is certain that Brescello is a place of most respectable antiquity, for according to Pliny the younger it was a Roman colony, founded during the period of the Republic. It is equally certain that Brescello has, from the time of its foundation, undergone as many of the vicissitudes of fortune, and suffered as much from the horrors of war, as many towns of far greater size and importance in the eyes of the world. A brief notice of its history will, however, cause our readers to marvel, not so much at the ruin and destruction which has fallen with such persistent recurrence upon Brescello as at the almost miraculous power possessed by this phœnix among cities of straightway rising again from its own ashes.
The first event of local historical importance which strikes us is the suicide (A.D. 69) of the Emperor Otho, which took place while he was encamped here, on receiving the news of the total defeat of his army by Vitellius. A tomb erected in the town to the memory of the unfortunate Emperor, for whom we have always entertained a certain amount of sympathy, possibly arising in a great measure from our contempt of his rival, is mentioned by Plutarch as having been seen by himself.