“I have not a word of news to send you.
“God bless you!
“Giacomino.”
On the 1st of May, 1863, Panizzi returned to his duties at the Museum; and with melancholy reflections we must here record that his life of action had practically reached its limits; not, however, that the patriot’s zeal had in any way decayed, nor had the politician’s interest in public affairs relaxed one iota.
To this point we have endeavoured briefly to follow up the fortunes of Italy from the year 1820. How much energy had been expended, how many lives of her truest sons had been devoted to the achievement of her liberty and union, and how far England had lent her powerful aid towards the accomplishment of the dearest wishes of patriotic Italians, it is beyond our province to discuss, and we leave such questions to be answered in the sterner pages of history.
Though natural decay crept on Panizzi, and though he felt his powers decreasing, he still continued his activity of body and mind, not resigning himself, as many men would have done, to indolence and absolute rest, but still taking an interest in all that was occurring around him, proffering aid and counsel where it was required or willingly received, and turning a stern countenance to everything approaching injustice.
Returning to his official duties in England, he cheerfully resigned the beauties of his native Italy, although to him they must have had an especial charm, and doubtless he coincided with the patriotic Neapolitan who exclaimed:—
“Vedi Napoli e poi muori!”
Yet not in this balmy air, nor within the influences of that sea whose azure tint delights the eye did he linger; duty called him thence, and at the post of duty was Panizzi ever to be found.