During his stay at Lord Holland’s, the Neapolitan Government, in order that he should take his walks abroad with greater safety, kindly furnished him with constant attendance, in the shape of a pair of trusty followers or spies. It is painful to relate that Panizzi treated their delicate and unobtrusive attention with extremely bad taste, not to say ingratitude. He was never weary of playing tricks on his faithful attendants, of mischievously imposing on them; ably supported in this evil practice by his friend, and notably by Mr. Fagan, he made them deviate from the path in which it was their combined duty and pleasure to walk. Panizzi and his companions would get in and out of cabs, in the manner of a late well-known actor, though not with the intention of bilking the cab-driver. On one occasion, in trying to walk down their pursuers, they became involved in a cul-de-sac, and turning to come out, met their suite face to face. Pursuers and pursued burst into a hearty reciprocal laugh, the latter passed on, and the former fell to their place in the rear, and continued the chase.
Panizzi himself even allowed others to personate him. For example, in one instance he gave out, for the information of his retinue, that he was going on a shooting excursion in the neighbourhood of Naples. The person really bent on this errand was Lord Holland’s physician, Dr. Chepmell, who, in the character of Panizzi, was duly followed about the whole day. Let us hope that these honest members of the Police witnessed, though they had little chance of enjoying, a good day’s sport.
Like all truly great men, and in particular Henry the Great, of France and Navarre, Panizzi, when in the company of his friends, was devoid of all feeling of unofficial personal dignity, and delighted, when not seriously engaged, in little diversions as free, if not as innocent and touching, as those indulged in by that great monarch.
On one occasion—he was by nature so physically sensitive as (to use a common phrase) to be excessively ticklish—Dr. Chepmell, and another intimate friend, Signor Carafa, had got him on the floor and were subjecting him to the titillating operation. They were rolling him in the fire-place—his face was black with charcoal, his clothes white with ashes—when suddenly a servant announced the Duca di X.... who had come to pay his respects to the “Great Pan.” All the astounded Duke could do was to stand in the middle of the room and gaze, speechless, hat in hand, on the unexpected and inexplicable spectacle.
Meantime, leave had been obtained for Panizzi to visit the famous Vicaria. Of this he received information from Lord Feilding, who was to accompany him over the prison:—
“November 18th, 1851.
“My dear Panizzi,
Will you hold yourself in readiness to accompany me over the ‘Vicaria’ to-morrow, in case it can be managed to obtain permission?
Yours, &c., &c., Feilding.”
“November 19th.