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MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
LONDON : 
 
 KOnSON AND SOK, RREAT KOUTHERN PUIHTING WORKS, 
 
 TANCRAS ROAI), N.W. 
 
RECOLLECTIOIS 
 
 ,£,' 
 
 \\^ 
 
 -<ca8> 
 
 MASSIMO D'AZEGLIO. 
 
 EmnsMt)i, bat^ |totes anb- an Inlrobattiffn, 
 
 COUNT MAPFEI. 
 
 IN TWO YOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193 PICCADILLY. 
 
 1868. 
 
CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. 
 
 Introduction page xiii 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Ignorance of family traditions — Wise reply of my father — Anti- 
 pathy to the family name — Opportunity of learning its history 
 — Originally from Brittany — The Brenier Capels — they re- 
 move to Dauphiny — one of them settles at Savigliano — An- 
 other version of Monsignor deUa Chiesa — Queen Joan invests 
 the house of Taparelli with the fief of Genola — Purchase of 
 Lagnasco — Brenier, a man-at-arms, acknowledges us (six- 
 teenth century) — My grandfather the Count of Lagnasco — 
 his portrait — Eccentric reputation of the family — Eemedy for 
 court deceptions used by my grandfather — his death — Cesare 
 my father — Cristina my mother — Doubt whether I ought to 
 write about her — Portrait of my father— his birth and enlist- 
 ment — Garrison life — Manners of the superiors of that date — 
 his early life — he enters the king's household — Society at 
 that period — Aristocracy — its faults; its merits — Conse- 
 quences — Conversion — State of opinion — The cause of his 
 change — Reflections page 15 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Bad health — ^Anxiety of the doctor for our race — AUianoe with 
 the House of Morozzo — Scrupulous sincerity of my father — 
 Establishment of the family — Number of children — Decay of 
 the cwoalieri serventi system — Joke on matrimonial unions 
 «. la mode — Ulnesa of my father — he leaves the court — Iso- 
 lation of Piedmont — Outbreak of war— My father aide-de- 
 camp to the commander-in-chief — My shameful ignorance — 
 Anecdote — Piedmontese proverb — He is made prisoner — Gal- 
 
vi CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 lantry of a young drummer— A new Pylades— tis origin- 
 lie contrives to be taken with my father— Tliey are Bent to 
 Montbrison— are obliged to ask alms— Generosity of a peasant 
 girl— Death of Robespierre- Improved condition— Horrible 
 reaction— His wife and famUy believe my father dead— his 
 will— he refuses his release on condition of not bearing arms 
 against the Kepublio— The French government acknowledges 
 this act of loyalty— Eeflections— Return of my father— Re- 
 turn of Pylades — his death — Pylades and Alexander the 
 Great i'*?* 35 
 
 CHAPTER ni. 
 Italian disasters—My brother Enrico—My birth— Domestic life of 
 my father— Poverty of the Piedmontese nobles— Error of our 
 rulers— Habits of my family— Distress at the public calami- 
 ties—Beginning of the century — Endeavours of my father to 
 make himself useful— He settles at Florence with his family 
 — J^i*— Is Florence a place of exile ? — My father hates the 
 foreign yoke — Exiles at Florence .... page 59 
 
 CHAPTER rV. 
 
 My apotheosis — Vittorio Alfieri and Fabre — I am persecuted by 
 two girls — Anecdotes — Alfieri's bolt — The Marchioness Prie — 
 End of my acquaintance with Countess d' Albany and Fabre — 
 A catastrophe — My father's occupations — A sonnet addressed 
 to Alfieri — Alfieri and Metastasio — Sonnet by the former in the 
 Piedmontese dialect — he reads Alceste and Myrrlia to my 
 parents — Last days of Alfieri — He takes the sacraments — 
 Clementina Prifi-Iucontri — Last Ulness of Alfieri — his death. 
 
 page 78 
 
 CHAPTER T. 
 
 DetaOs of education — Matilda and I — Bad health of our mother 
 — Theory of my parents on primary education — They did not 
 flatter us — "We were taught endurance — Children's rights — 
 Liberty consists in obedience — Respectful criticism — Anec- 
 dotes — It snows on the soup — Balateo — Reform of Italian 
 conversation — On my knees to Chacolin — Accustomed to pain 
 
CONTENTS OF VOL. I. Vll 
 
 — I break my arm — Warnings — How I used to be awoke — 
 Abate Lena — Serpent-hunting — Unmerited ovation — Woods at 
 night — Meritorious action — I possess a carriage — A generous 
 gift — La Rochefoucauld and the Gospel — Mock Christian 
 civilisation page gz 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 Instruction and education — A new department of state — The 
 porter of the Scolopi Fathers my first tutor — Napoleonic 
 tyranny — Compulsory return — Letter from the King — My 
 father gives in his temporary adhesion to the French Go- 
 vernment — Return of the family to Turin — T7nexpected sur- 
 prise — I am raised to the dignity of cavaliere — My grand- 
 mother and her castle — My great-grandmother Da Camino — 
 Ancestress of one hundred and seven individuals — Don An- 
 dreis, the second priest — he bothers me too much — Another 
 bore of a priest — Things go from had to worse — The black 
 Virgin of Oropa — St. Ignatius and spiritual exercises — Ano- 
 ther priest — I am guilty of a sonnet . . . page 1 1 1 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 Religious instruction — Reflections on its place in education — I 
 do not argue with Atheists — The teacher should educate honest 
 men — Extra-dogmatic reasons to induce the pupil to be so — 
 Faults of the religious instruction I received — Importance of 
 the sense of respect — Examples of the Romans — Third ele- 
 ment in a good education — Jesuit-teaching — History — I be- 
 come a day-scholar at college — Shameful examination — Good 
 sentiment — A stolen prize — My character is being spoilt — I 
 enter the University — I begin to write — Excursions — I am 
 taken for a highwayman — Gymnastics . . page 130 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 My Jesuit — our friendship — Jesuits' life — ^What my brother was 
 — his habits — Black and Red Jesuits — Jesuits and Englishmen 
 — Napoleon gives him a nomination to St. Cyr — Napoleon and 
 Dr. Jenner — Roberto becomes auditor to the Council of State — 
 
Vlll CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 Prospero is liberated— Matilde— her death — our grief— Giorgio 
 Bidone— his affectionate advice — Political life of my Father — 
 Persecution of Pius VII. — My Father's solicitude for im- 
 prisoned Priests — their merits — First tidings of the disaster 
 of Moscow — Joy of everybody except those who lost their 
 appointments — The debacle — The folly of mankind — Belief 
 to the wounded page 146 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 Fall of Napoleon — Germans and French — A hint to France — 
 Love for the detested German — Civic guard — Emancipation 
 and farewell to Don Andreis — I become a sportsman — A few 
 words to my priest — My first excommunication — it does not 
 last long — Pious fraud and^ie credendum — Entrance of Vic- 
 tor Emanuel I. — The royal family going about — My father 
 Minister ad interim at Borne — Arrival in Bome — State of 
 Europe and Bome — Blunders of the restoration — Napoleonico- 
 Jesuitic despotism — "We settle in Bome — Our acquaintances — 
 Art and literature page 16% 
 
 CHAPTEB X. 
 
 We explore ancient and modern Bome — Viscontl — Malvotti — Be- 
 ginning of a bad period — Man is to be judged by his sincerity, 
 and not by his flag — I acquire a taste for Painting — My first 
 Master — I take to Music again — VioUcemhalo — Music is a mys- 
 tery — Dreams on Music — Similitude between the human mind 
 and body — Diplomacy — Murat — ^I am made a Cornet — My 
 Brother joins the Jesuits — Wish to make me a " Monsignore" 
 — My impressions of Bome — Fleuve du tendre — Canon Spaziani 
 — Donna Teresa Bracucoi — Monsignor Brancadoro — Boccaccio 
 and John Huss page 187 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 The helmet is secured — Eeaction — Curious recomposition of the 
 army — My father a bad courtier — Courtiers, and true danger 
 for princes — End of Don Andreis — I definitively join the regi- 
 ment — Injustice of my promotion — Well-founded humility — 
 
CONTENTS OF VOL. I. IX 
 
 I learn my drill conscientiously — Follies of our masters — My 
 love of justice — My dislike of aristocracy, and absurd ideas 
 on democracy — I become corrupted, and live with rowdies-r- 
 Quarrel with a brother-officer — My father is informed of it — 
 His visit — ^Advice to young men .... page 206 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. 
 
 Derangement of health — Eetum of Napoleon from Elba — Coun- 
 sels of Bidone — Eeflections on 'the charms of a currycomb — 
 By Bidone's advice I quit the active service, and enter the 
 provincial militia — Defeat and expulsion of masks from the 
 Carignano Theatre — My triumphal entry into Turin — I go to 
 Milan, and there sell my ancestors — A warning to young men 
 against running into debt — The choice of Hercules — Bidone's 
 maxims — his quotations — Glory and popularity are more 
 highly paid than they deserve — At seventeen I was pining for 
 glory — " Learn art, say I ; then lay it by" — Complete conver- 
 sion — Gossip of my companions on the subject — I am declared 
 a downright lunatic page 223 
 
 CHAPTER Xni. 
 
 An act of pride — Training for sacrifice — My diligence — I fall ill 
 from over-exertion — I have an organic complaint — Mania for 
 going to Rome — Lassitude of my mother, and her patience 
 in suffering — Abate Natali — My mode of life — My occupa- 
 tions — Poetical sins — ^^neas an odious hero — Other preqepts 
 of Bidone — Yestri the actor, and my vocation for the stage — 
 My rage for Alfieri — Alfieri has discovered Italy — What I 
 would now say to Alfieri — My mother a subtle literary critic. 
 
 page 242 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Journey to Naples — The friends I met there — The Carbonari — 
 Greeting to Cardinal Amat and Count della Margherita— Our 
 travelling-chaise passes over my body — ^Visit of my father — 
 he sees my works — M. de Blacas — Miss Knight — English 
 friends and my shame — Miss Knight and one's native country 
 — The Emperor of Austria at Rome — General yearning for 
 
X CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 peace in Europe — I catch the malaria fever — My master Mar- 
 tin Verstappen — his character — his school — We were pupils 
 • and servants as in the fifteenth century — Our impertinence to 
 the master — My mind slowly ripens — Period of moral distress 
 — Dreams of the future — Method of study I proposed to my- 
 self—Flights of fancy— Modified political ideas — Cardinal 
 Consalvi — Love appears upon the scene . . page 263 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 First love — How many sorts of love there are — DiflSoulty of 
 understanding them, and still more of naming them, except 
 one — Love in the literature of the reign of Louis Philippe — 
 Little love-making in the world — Silence on my love-adven- 
 tures — Love is the father of lies — Theory of fidelity — Sad end 
 of every love-adventure — Least bad way of getting out of it 
 fairly — Conclusion f avoiu-able to women — It is useless to preach 
 abstinence page 290 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 Return from Rome to Turin — Francis IV. of Modena — Excur- 
 sion to Venice — State of Turinese society in the year 1820 — I 
 have always avoided secret societies ; and the advantages I 
 have derived from so doing — Remarks upon the political 
 events of 1821 in Piedmont — MUitary revolutions are the 
 worst of all — Passive resistance to bad governments generally 
 preferable to violence — Examples taken from the Lombardo- 
 Venetians — Conclusion of this subject — Summer of 1820, and 
 Count Benevello — Tribute to this worthy nobleman — DiflSoulty 
 of living in peace in the society of Turin at that time — I per- 
 sist in my intention of leaving the army, and going back to 
 Rome to continue my artistic studies — My parents consent 
 after much hesitation — Criticisms and gossip of the town — 
 Dialogue giving an idea of high Turinese society in 1820. 
 
 page 307 
 
 CHAPTER XVIL 
 Plutarch and the Marchioness of Crescentino agree in their opi- 
 nion about the cultivators of art — I should have done better 
 
CONTENTS OF VOL. I. XI 
 
 to learn science and the art of government rather than paint- 
 ing — Democracy of reprisals, and democracy fairly understood 
 — Examples — Comparisons between a financier, a general, an 
 administrator, a painter, a dancer, and a singer — It is right 
 that professions whose object is to please should be better 
 paid, but unfair that they should be more esteemed than use- 
 ful ones — The worship of certain arts is a sign of decline — 
 My parents consent to my return to Rome — At Genoa I meet 
 Albert Lamarmora and Cesare Balbo — I embark for Leghorn, 
 and arrive at Borne via Florence — I adapt my mode of life to 
 my financial resources — My horror of debt — Lessons on his- 
 tory and literature, by Signer Garello, before sunrise — The 
 Bospigliosi riding-school — Academy for the nude kept by 
 Antonio — I work in real earnest to escape from my pecuniary 
 difficulties — Curious expedients to which I am driven by ne- 
 cessity — Excursion to Castel Sant' Ella to visit Verstappen. 
 
 :paffe 345 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 I start for Castel Sant' Elia with Verstappen's brother-in-law — A 
 night at Nepi in the inn of Veleno — Adventure — Description 
 of that part of the Roman Campagna — Castel Sant' Elia and 
 its owner. Count Panimolli — Michele Paeetti and I arrive at 
 Castel Sant' Elia, and hasten to visit Verstappen — ^We lodge 
 in an old house ransacked at the time of the Republic — We 
 extemporise the best sleeping accommodation we can for our- 
 selves and Michele's ass — The kitchen department — Studies 
 from nature, and the abatino ^aij attendant — Remarks on 
 art, and especially on landscape-painting — Academies of fine 
 arts and encouragement societies — Life of Verstappen at Castel 
 Sant' Elia — I study the new society which surrounds me, and 
 find that I'Twmme est le mimepaHout — I am discovered to be 
 Marquis Massimo d'AzegUo page 369 
 
INTRODUCTION.* 
 
 Eather more than twelve months ago, the Mar- 
 chioness Eicci, only daughter of the illustrious Mas- 
 simo d'Azeglio, whose death Italy had mourned a 
 year previously, published the Memoirs of her father, 
 in compHance with a wish expressed by himself in 
 his last days, although they did not comprise the 
 whole period contemplated in his original design, 
 which the premature close of his existence prevented 
 him from completing. 
 
 In so doing the Marchioness Eicci not only ful- 
 filled a duty in thorough harmony with her most 
 sacred feelings, but she felt that this publication 
 would, if possible, still farther increase the respect 
 and veneration the Italian people already entertained 
 for so great a patriot. 
 
 * 1. Vltalie de 1847 b, 1865 ; Correspondanoe Politique de 
 Massimo d'Azeglio, aveo une Introduction par M. Eugene Eendu. 
 1 Tol. Paris, 1866. 2. Les Preewsews Italiens, par M. Charles 
 de Mazade ; Revue des Deua> Mondes, 15 fivrier 1867. 3. Com- 
 memoraxione di Massimo d'Azeglio; discorso del Commendatore 
 Masaari. Bari, 1866. i. Nata Biografica del MarcTiese Ricoi. 
 Firenze, 1867; &o. 
 
 VOL. I. h 
 
XIV INTKODUCTION. 
 
 Shrinking from herself attempting the eulogy of 
 her own father, she could not refrain, as she stated 
 in a short preface, from expressing her belief (which 
 was perfectly well founded) that no biography could 
 be better calculated to illustrate the peculiarities of her 
 father's genius and moral character. From the hum- 
 blest descriptions, she said, from the greatest eccen- 
 tricities of comical incidents, he often rises with 
 incredible suddenness and ease to philosophical and 
 political considerations of the loftiest nature ; nor 
 is it a rare occurrence for him to enter quite unex- 
 pectedly into historical discussions with true dog- 
 matic erudition, hinting at every step useful advice, 
 wonderfully appropriate to our present day. This 
 was her hope, concluded the Marchioness; and the 
 success of the book confirmed the judgment of filial 
 love, in foreseeing that this last work of her father 
 would be welcomed by the Italians, even when his 
 authoritative voice pointed out their faults and the 
 effects they have yet to produce ; and that the pages 
 his dying hand last penned would be deemed a 
 worthy conclusion to the constant labour of a Kfe 
 which had been devoted mind and soul to the glory 
 and well-being of his country. 
 
 Her expectations were fully realised; for these i2e- 
 collectiotis afforded a curious contrast to the sad lack 
 of pleasant readable literature presented by the Italy 
 
INTKQDUCTION. XV 
 
 of our days; thanks to tlie mania of modern authors, 
 who, as D'Azeglio says in the preface of his Auto- 
 biography, fancy themselves obhged to change their 
 language "when they write, for a stilted, affected style, 
 under pretext of a misconceived idea of elegance. 
 
 An able English critic wrote last year: "Massimo 
 d'Azeglio was completely free from this defect. Like 
 all the D'Azeglios (for, as he himself tell us, it was 
 common to the race), he was ' a character,' a man of 
 whims, and oddities, and hobbies, and crotchets, and 
 consequently the last person in the world to remain 
 bound in any conventional thraldom, whether social 
 or Kterary. This character of individuality, which 
 impressed its stamp on his whole life, is charmingly 
 revealed in every sentence of the Memoirs which he 
 has left behind him ; so that, more than any of his 
 previous writings, their mingled homehness and wit 
 and wisdom justify the epithet which I once before 
 ventured to give him when I described him as the 
 ' Giusti of Italian prose.' " 
 
 This criticism is singularly to the point, showing 
 how even foreigners appreciated the Memoirs of our 
 famous patriot; and on reading them it at once struck 
 me that a translation would be welcome to the English 
 public. A few days after this had occurred to me. 
 Marquis d'Azeglio received a letter from Florence, in 
 which both the family and the Italian editor, aware 
 
XVI INTEODUCTION. 
 
 how much interest Italian politics excite in England, 
 evinced a wish that the Recollections should be trans- 
 lated in London, where many had personally known 
 their author. 
 
 But who was to do it ? Italians were not wanting 
 in England possessing such perfect mastery of the 
 English language as to be fully competent for the 
 task. Several English writers, too, are in existence 
 with every qualification for translating the Italian 
 work, although it is written in so familiar a style 
 as to make the real meaning of more than one pass- 
 age quite puzzling to a foreigner. Yet nobody 
 seemed inclined to undertake the work; and an 
 answer in this sense was on the point of being 
 despatched to Florence. I felt immensely disap- 
 pointed. Was the best work written in Italy for 
 many a year to remain unknown in England, where 
 the high qualities, the honourable straightforwardness 
 of the author's character were better appreciated than 
 anywhere else, while his friends were most anxious 
 that the reverse should be the case ? Eather than let 
 a refusal be sent off, shall I try it myself? thought I. 
 Here arose a number of objections : Shall I have the 
 capacity ? shaU I have the time ? and a thousand 
 reasons too numerous to dwell upon, and not always 
 of a nature to reassure me about my prospect of suc- 
 cess in[|such a hazardous enterprise. StiU the idea 
 
IKTRODUCTION, Xvi 
 
 haunted me, and gained ground by degrees; till at 
 last it got the upper hand, and I began my work. 
 Alas ! I know not how far its result would have 
 satisfied B'Azeglio, for I am conscious that I am now 
 presenting to the reader the book of a great man 
 translated by — a very small one ! Whatever the ver- 
 dict of the pubHc may be, I hope that at least the 
 motives which were my incentive to make the at- 
 tempt will not be forgotten. But I had yet another 
 reason, which was of great weight with me. I must 
 here make a confession. The description of old 
 sturdy Piedmont, of the spirit, manners, and tradi- 
 tions of a society amidst which I grew up; the fact 
 that I was, or am yet, acquainted with the greater 
 part of the persons mentioned in D'Azeglio's Recol- 
 lections, nay more, am connected with many of them 
 by the closer ties of blood, ojGfered a double attraction, 
 that I was unable to resist : so, once having set to 
 work, I went on. We say in Italian, " Peccato con- 
 fessato e mezzo perdonato;" and having thus confessed 
 myself with all sincerity, I hope I shall not be denied 
 the benefit of indulgence. 
 
 In many parts of the Recollections I have thought 
 it necessary to add explanatory notes, to avoid confu- 
 sion or misinterpretation. In some cases likewise, 
 where the author adverts to facts that may be known 
 to foreigners, although only in a summary way, I 
 
XVIU IKTEODUCTION. 
 
 have ventured to suggest tlie circumstances, some- 
 times very peculiar, which gave rise to these allusions, 
 hoping my additions vi^ould not be unacceptable to 
 the general public. But to those readers -whose 
 foreign Imowledge is, on the contrary, so complete as 
 to render such an amount of precaution superfluous, 
 I will say, as Massimo d'AzegHo himself very often 
 does in the course of these pages, when a passage 
 occurs which he deems uninteresting — skip it. Hav- 
 ing thus eased my conscience on this score, I will 
 merely add, that all the French and Latin sentences 
 contained in this translation are copied verbatim from 
 the original. 
 
 Massimo d'Azeglio began these Memoirs within 
 two or three years of his death, hoping, as he says, 
 to bequeath to the rising Italian generation a book 
 that might inculcate the precepts his long experience 
 and patriotism suggested as the best means of secur- 
 ing the good of the nation. But he did not Hve 
 to complete his work, and it was brought to an un- 
 timely end just as he was commencing the narrative 
 of the most important part of his political career. 
 
 It is impossible not to regret this deeply in the 
 interest of history and politics. Yet was it a good or 
 an evil that these Memoirs should end so abruptly? 
 It is difficult to answer this question. Though 
 we are deprived of a very interesting portion of 
 
INTRODUCTION. XIX 
 
 the author's hfe, it is, perhaps, as well that 
 simo d'AzegHo did not begin" to write his Recollec- 
 tions at an earlier stage, and was thus prevented 
 from touching contemporary history; it being in- 
 deed difHcult for anyone to pronounce an impartial 
 judgment on the men amongst whom he has lived 
 and the events of his own time. For it is im- 
 possible to take an active share in politics without 
 being more or less jarred by the conduct and opinions 
 of others. The divergence of ideas that divided 
 D'Azeglio from Cavour, and many other Italian 
 statesmen, often made him unjust to them, and caused 
 him to regard his country, and the phases (unfortu- 
 nately not always of a satisfactory character) through 
 which a young nation must pass in the early stages 
 of its political regeneration, with a kind of over- 
 strained fastidiousness. 
 
 God knows what excellent intentions, how much 
 genuine feeKng, were concealed xmder his occasionally 
 rough warnings and advice, which, had he recorded 
 the second and most conspicuous part of his political 
 life, would perhaps have taken the shape of a diatribe 
 against many men of the day, with little or no profit 
 to the country, nay to its detriment. 
 
 We are compensated for the loss of an interesting 
 account of the busy years of Italian revolution by a 
 charmingly dispassionate chat about days long past, 
 
SX INTEODtrCTION. 
 
 little known, yet curious for the student and the ob- 
 ■server to dwell upon. "We have eloquent pages, fall 
 of philosophical as well as social observation, poli- 
 tical reminiscences, anecdotes, reflections on art and 
 education; while the sketches of national character, 
 under its various aspects during the counter-revo- 
 lutionary period, are picturesque in no common 
 degree. 
 
 The author undoubtedly represented one of the 
 most striking individualities of his time, and spent 
 a life equally full of romantic adventures and prac- 
 tical activity, in uninterrupted service to his country. 
 A painter and novelist, he returned in mature years 
 to his early profession as a soldier in defence of his 
 native land. He was also at once poKtical writer, 
 statesman, and diplomatist; and amid such wonder- 
 fully varied pursuits he never swerved from the one 
 chief aim of his life — the liberation of Italy. 
 
 Most people know how the Italian revolution 
 was accomplished, but few, if any, are aware how 
 it was prepared. This book will fill up the blank ; 
 and though it barely comprises the preparations for 
 the great movement of the year 1848, it exactly 
 goes over the field where most instruction can be 
 gleaned about the foundations on which the actual 
 social life of Italy is based. 
 
 To render this work more attractive to the reader. 
 
INTEODUCTION. Xxi 
 
 I propose to give a short summary of D'Azeglio's 
 political career from the time these Recollections were 
 cut short by death; for it embraces the most important 
 period of the Italian revolution, and will greatly 
 faci^tate the understanding of the author's remarks 
 and allusions. 
 
 His reminiscences stop abruptly in 1846, just in- 
 cluding the publication of the pamphlet he wrote in 
 that year, Gli Ultimi Casa di Romagna, and which 
 created a profound sensation throughout the country. 
 D'Azeglio was then recently returned from a tour 
 in the pontifical provinces and chiefly in Eomagna, 
 made at the request of the Liberal party, who had 
 intrusted him with the delicate mission - of first 
 inquiring whether the country was ripe for a 
 movement or not, and then preaching concord and 
 faith to each individual, while he forcibly pointed 
 out the reckless blunders and wickedness of secret 
 societies. 
 
 The rash revolutionary outbreak of Eomagna in 
 1845, which, as usual, only ended in bloodshed, 
 and gave the priestly government a pretext for 
 a fresh display of cruelty, furnished a text for the 
 above little book published under his own name in 
 the beginning of 1846. To sign it was a singular 
 act of courage at that time, and resulted in his ba- 
 nishment from Tuscany (the pamplilet was printed 
 
XXll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 at Leghorn), and from the Austrian dominions in 
 the Peninsula. 
 
 In a few days the volume was conveyed by hand 
 from one end of Italy to the other. It roused the 
 enthusiasm of the Itahans, and, while urging them, 
 with practical good sense, to abandon the imprudent 
 and always futile attempts of the advanced party, 
 and to follow instead a more regular policy in broad 
 daylight, it encouraged them to persevere all the 
 more in the wise course pointed out by Gioberti and 
 Balbo. 
 
 Not long after, the Holy See became vacant 
 by the death of Gregory XVI., and on the 16th 
 of June 1846 Pius IX. was elected Pope. After 
 a month's reign, the new pontiff promulgated a 
 general amnesty. The effect of this measure was 
 wonderful, and took everyone by surprise. It was 
 the confirmation of the national principle, a sanc- 
 tion granted by God's representative on earth to 
 the liberal aspirations of the country, that thus fell 
 from the Vatican. Gratitude and hope gave an im- 
 mense political significance to that decree. Liberty 
 of the press and other changes soon followed, making 
 all Italy reecho with the name of Pius IX. 
 
 D'Azeglio then shared the general illusion that 
 these reforms might become a pledge of perpetual 
 concord between the Eomans and the ecclesiastical 
 
INTEODTJCTION. Xxiii 
 
 sovereignty. Like Gioberti, Balbo, and many of 
 their contemporaries, he believed (I lay stress on 
 this fact, for it is a very important one, explaining 
 the subsequent attitude of some of the politicians of 
 that period) that liberated Italy must assume the 
 shape of a confederation of free states with its centre 
 at Eome, and the Pope for its president. 
 
 It now seems a dream to recal the popular song 
 then chanted in the streets of every Italian town : 
 
 " Evviva Piemonte, 
 Sioilia, e Tosoana, 
 La Lega Italiana 
 Pio Nono ha Ee 1" 
 
 The antithesis with our days is strong, but who dreamt 
 of united Italy at that early stage ? Some few ; but 
 when did they think the vision would be realised? 
 That is another question. A great transformation 
 had still to take place, a new generation to grow up, 
 bold and energetic — that of the sons of revolution. 
 
 As soon as Pius IX. had granted these reforms, 
 D'Azeglio felt it a duty to hasten to Rome, where 
 his popular voice powerfully supported the national 
 cause; and his principal object being war to the 
 foreigner, he greatly contributed to the increase of 
 military preparations. 
 
 In August 1847, the Austrian troops, contrary to 
 all existing stipulations, wantonly invaded Ferrara, 
 
XXIV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and D'Azeglio flew to Pesaro, in order to be near 
 the pontifical camp of observation established in 
 Romagna. There he struck a fresh chord, and 
 instead of preaching moderation as on his previous 
 journey, he advocated resolution and firmness. His 
 advice vs^as not throvrn away, and a legal protest of 
 the Roman legate caused the Austrians to withdraw. 
 The failure of this usurpation afforded further proof 
 to the Italians how wise D'Azeglio's words were, 
 and also of the necessity of practically following them 
 without loss of time. 
 
 He spent the whole of the exciting year 1847 
 in Rome ; as the signal for the new movement had 
 come from thence, he considered it of the utmost 
 importance to watch the public spirit on the spot, 
 believing the rest of Italy would be obliged to 
 adhere to the liberal policy of the Pope. Indeed, 
 his noble mind entertained the delusive hope that 
 Pius IX. would accomplish a complete trans- 
 formation in the Papacy ; and so great was his 
 trust in the man who had spontaneously inaugu- 
 rated a novel era for his people, that he deemed 
 him worthy of the moral leadership of Italy ; not 
 without conditions, of course. " Si Pie IX veut,"* 
 he wrote in his poHtical correspondence, pubhshed by 
 
 * All the passages extracted from this correspondence are 
 quoted in the original French. 
 
nSTTEODUCTION. XXV 
 
 M. Eendu, " s'il consent a ^tre ce que I'opinion fait 
 de lui, la papaute est definitivement la force dirige- 
 ante . . . S'il s'j refuse, je ne sais pas ce qui arrivera. 
 ... La Providence n'offre pas deux fois une occasion 
 telle que eelle-ci." How truly this prediction has 
 been verified ! A Papacy transforming itself into 
 an element of progress and civilisation — a Papacy 
 ceasing to be a system of gross abuses and priestly 
 tyranny — might have been the salvation of Italy. 
 As it turned out, it caused the social and religious 
 revolution under which she is stiU writhing. 
 
 It was in this year that Massimo d'Azeglio wrote 
 an admirable series of pamphlets under the title of 
 Frofframma per la Formaeiane di utH Opinione nazio- 
 nale, in which his. genius entirely disclosed itself, 
 and the essential character of the Italian revival was 
 boldly sketched out. 
 
 In the mean while the first months of 1848 
 changed the face of things, giving an impulse to 
 the hopes that had been raised, and which now 
 only wanted an opportunity to burst forth openly. 
 D'Azeglio waited in Rome, like a sentinel at his 
 post, ready to give a timely warning to the impa- 
 tient, or to counteract the anti-national intrigues of 
 which the eternal city has always been the active 
 centre. Quite early in the year he issued another 
 most interesting publication, ILutti di Lombardia ; a 
 
XXVI INTKODUCTION. 
 
 heart-stirring narrative of the martyrdom of Lom- 
 bardy and Venetia under Austrian tyranny, almost 
 equivalent to a popular declaration of war. 
 ■ At length the revolutionary blast of 1848 began 
 its work. The outbreak at Paris in February gave a 
 signal soon followed by a great part of Europe, and 
 its first consequence was the rising of Milan against 
 the Austrians, who fled after five days' desperate 
 fighting, during which the citizens set the noblest 
 example of valour and resolution. 
 
 The state of Piedmont was indescribable. The 
 desire to rush to the rescue of the Milanese was 
 universal ; Charles Albert cast the die, and entered 
 Lombardy. 
 
 As soon as the startling news reached Rome, 
 D'Azeglio redoubled his exertions with one single 
 aim, that of swelling the ranks of the combatants 
 against the foreigner; and his eloquent voice and 
 influential pen urged the Romans to enlist under the 
 tricolour Italian flag, unfurled for the first time by 
 Charles Albert on crossing the Ticino. 
 
 One night at a political club, where a recently 
 promulgated electoral law was exciting a hot debate, 
 " Gentlemen," he cried, " this is no time to discuss 
 the greater or less liberality of a franchise ; we may 
 consider it afterwards. Let us now go and fight for 
 our independence." 
 
INTKODUCTION. XXVU 
 
 The Eoman Liberals regarded him as their leader ; 
 the Pope himself was not quite opposed to him ; and 
 his advice was attended to. Instantly all discussion 
 ceased; a subscription for money and weapons was 
 commenced, men were enrolled, and a little army 
 hastily drawn together under the command of Gene- 
 ral Griovanni Durando. D'Azeglio had been the soul 
 of the expedition, and after setting it in motion by his 
 influence, he was the first personally to give the ex- 
 ample, and received the appointment of staff-adjutant 
 to the commander-in-chief, whose handful of soldiers 
 marched into Yenetia ; whilst Charles Albert, after 
 several brilliant engagements, arrived on the Mincio. 
 
 At this date D'Azeglio wrote several letters, pub- 
 lished in his above-mentioned correspondence. In 
 them he develops the poHcy of the day, and ex- 
 pounds his views on the situation. Writing from 
 Monte Belluno on the 5th of May, he says, "Pie IX 
 et Charles Albert peuvent seuls sauver I'ltalie, non 
 pas des stranieri, mais des Italiens, qui.seraient le 
 plus k craindre, a peine le danger pass6." Always 
 the same delusion — faith in the Pope ! 
 
 I must not, however, leave the reader under the 
 impression this declaration might create. Politics in 
 D'Azeglio were but the emanation of his noble cha- 
 racter, with which they became identified. Of course, 
 the idea of a Pontifi" who had solemnly implored the 
 
XXviil INTRODUCTION. 
 
 blessing of Heaven on his country in the memorable 
 words, "Benedite, oh sommo Iddio, V Italia,'''' was enough 
 to stir the generous mind of D'AzegKo. Conceiving, 
 as he did, that Providence was now offering the Pa- 
 pacy an opportunity for becoming Italy's chief strength, 
 on condition that some wise reforms separated the 
 temporal from the spiritual power, how could he re- 
 main indifferent to the beautiful ideal of an Italian re- 
 ligious and political supremacy, founded on the true 
 principles of liberty? It was indeed a grand idea, 
 and one that made many a heart believe God had at 
 last selected the fair peninsula, for centuries so cruelly 
 battered by adverse fortune, as the abode of spi- 
 ritual and civil harmony and concord. Alas, how 
 rudely facts dispelled this phantasmagoria ! Yet 
 many an ardent Liberal indulged in the same dream 
 as D'Azeglio ; and to prove that his apparent severity 
 towards the Italians was not inspired by diminished 
 faith in their cause, but must only be atti'ibuted to 
 over-anxiety, I will here adduce the end of the same 
 letter I have just quoted. The patriot as well as the 
 artist is revealed in this passage, hastily written under 
 a tent, and dated from the camp of that curious 
 anomaly, the pontifical army of 1848, composed half 
 of regulars, half of volunteers, with enthusiastic 
 priests preaching the national crusade, at the head 
 of which the Holy Father stood foremost, though 
 
ESTEODUOTION. Xxix 
 
 already against his will. Strange contrast ; but how- 
 well this extract depicts the time ! 
 
 " Tin de nos jeunes gens eut le poignet coupe. 
 Je voulais le consoler; il me repondit, en me mon- 
 trant sa main droite : Resta questa. Le sommeU a 
 ete long, mais le reveil est complet et puissant, je 
 vous assure. Notre armee marche avec un carroccio* 
 Ne vous moquez pas de moi; c'est uu peti moyen 
 kgQ ! J'ai pense que I'armee pontificale devait 
 avoir un service r6gulier, et j'ai fait arranger un 
 autel sur un chariot; rien n'y manque, y compris 
 le m^t qui porte les couleurs de I'Bglise, avec Viva 
 Pio Nono! d'un c6te, et de 1' autre Dio lo vuole! 
 Aujourd'hui, jour de la fete du pape, nous avons dit 
 la messe en plein air, toute I'armee rangee sur quatre 
 lignes, par un temps magnifique, et avec une multi- 
 tude de paysans des environs. Notre aum6nier, qui 
 est un carme, a fait un petit discours de eirconstance ; 
 et tout cet ensemble, je vous assure, etait d'un grand 
 effet. Aussi I'enthousiasme etait k son comble. 
 
 " Je fiis bien touche aussi I'autre jom* par une 
 scene d'un genre different. Nous etions sur la route 
 de Belluno ; nous reeontrames une maison isolee pres 
 d'un groupe d'arbres. En nous approchant, nous 
 aper^umes une vingtaine de petites fiUettes toutes 
 agenouillees sous les arbres, les mains jointes et 
 
 * See note at p. 359, vol. ii. 
 VOL. I. C 
 
XXX INTEODUCTION. 
 
 priant pour nous; pres de Ik, un vieux paysan et 
 quelques autres individus : il n'y eut pas un cri, pas 
 une voix qui se fit entendre, pas une remarque. 
 Nous pass^mes en silence. Apres quelques minutes, 
 me retournant pour voir si je les apercevais encore, 
 je vis plus d'une vieille moustache qui s'essuyait les 
 yeux. C'est bien simple en apparence ; mais, dans 
 notre position, vous ne sam-iez croire quel eiFet cela 
 nous fit. 
 
 " Maintenant nous attendons la division Ferrari, 
 et puis nous passerons la Piave et ensuite le Taglia- 
 mento, et, Dieu aidant, nous rejetterons I'ennemi au 
 del^ de I'lsonzo. 
 
 " Notre armee a vraiment 1' aspect d'une croisade. 
 Outre la ligne qui est tres-bien, nous avons une 
 armee de volontaires et de paysans, avec costumes 
 de fantaisie : lances, fourclies, et toutes sortes d'in- 
 struments dont on a fait des armes. De plus, des 
 pretres, des moines qui, au reste, pom-raient bien 
 ne pas porter tous ces pistolets et ces poignards ; 
 mais le moyen de le leur faire comprendre ? Enfin, 
 tout ceci ne manque pas de couleur locale." 
 
 The small pontifical army had done httle in the 
 interval. Placed in a difScult position, their 
 chiefs were obliged to hold a very extensive line, 
 while long marches backwards and forwards ex- 
 hausted the soldiers. Attacked at last at Vicenza 
 
INTEOUUCTION. XXxi 
 
 by Radetzki with 45,000 men and 110 pieces of 
 artillery, tlie 10,000 combatants of Durando, with 
 their 25 cannons, capitulated to the overwhelming 
 Austi-ian forces after a more than honourable de- 
 fence. Thrice they successfully repelled the attack 
 of the enemy in an open town ; but finally they 
 were worsted (June 1848), and D'Azeglio fell, 
 dangerously wounded, in the thickest of the fight. 
 
 As he was being carried away from the action 
 to the ambulance he exclaimed, " My God, I did 
 believe in the future of Italy, but I dared not hope 
 to be so fortunate as to draw my sword on the field 
 of battle for its independence !" In recognition of 
 their stout resistance, the Italians obtained the right 
 of leaving the place with the honours of war. 
 
 But, alas, in other quarters too fortune frowned 
 upon Italy. The princes by their bad faith, and the 
 people by their rashness, played into each other's 
 hands; reactionists fostered anarchy in the expectation 
 of reaping its inheritance ; factions ran high, paving 
 the way to foreign intervention ; and it was in vain 
 that one sovereign and his faithful army, though 
 shamefully abandoned, fought for Italy with a valour 
 worthy of a better fate, till Charles Albert was obliged 
 to conclude an armistice with the Austrians. D'Aze- 
 glio, however, remained unshaken in his hopes. He 
 repaired to Tuscany, and at the Villa Almanzi, in the 
 
XXXll INTEODUCTION. 
 
 neighbourhood of Florence, where he had gone for 
 medical advice, he resumed his pen, and now began 
 to censure the prevailing excesses of the Liberals with 
 the same firmness he before displayed against the 
 absolute governments. His writings called forth the 
 bitterest retorts from those to whom they were addres- 
 sed ; but he heeded not, and undauntedly continued 
 in spite of personal threats. He had never flattered 
 king, and he disdained to cringe before a mob. 
 The position of Tuscany was most critical. It had 
 become the hotbed of demagogy. In the hour of peril 
 the reigning Grand Duke, Leopold, summoned D'Aze- 
 glio, and requested him to form a cabinet. But he 
 put no trust in the weak prince; and having inquired 
 on what guarantees he could rely to quell the discon- 
 tent, the Grand Dulse, instead of answering, piteonsly 
 paced to and fro, without getting over his miserable 
 irresolution. This combination having failed, despair 
 threw the government into quite other hands, and the 
 new administration was installed under the ultra-de- 
 mocratic auspices of Guei'azzi and Montanelli. Sin- 
 gular determination of a sovereign as cowardly in the 
 face of danger as he was bold when backed by a foreign 
 army ! Yet he was withal the best specimen to be 
 found among the worthless Austro-Bourbon princes by 
 whom Italy was graced. D'Azeglio's indignation at 
 the Tuscan agitators then reached its climax, and he 
 
INTKODUCTION. Xxxiii 
 
 pom-ed forth his feelings in the pamphlet entitled 
 Timori e Speranze ; a passionate invective against the 
 class of demagogues who were killing Kberty all 
 over Europe. 
 
 " If we are not brought back to despotism," said 
 D'Azeglio, "it is not the fault of the Republicans; 
 for (let us be just) they are doing all they can to 
 revive the happy days of Divine Right." 
 
 As far back as the month of April Charles Albert 
 had offered him a seat in the Sardinian upper cham- 
 ber ; but, preferring to be a deputy, he refused the 
 honour, and was returned to parliament by the town 
 of Strambino. In January 1849 he addressed to his 
 constituents one of his usual pamphlets, which may 
 be considered his best production of the kind. He 
 did not, however, do full justice to Grioberti, who, in 
 the midst of the party spirit, infuriated passions, and 
 confusion of ideas reigning in Piedmont, had the 
 courage to accept the direction of public business, 
 endeavouring by his genius to raise a barrier against 
 anarchy, and to restore the tottering fortunes of the 
 country ; a blot the more to be regretted, as at the 
 beginning of the year, before appointing Grioberti 
 his minister, Charles Albert had offered the post to 
 D'Azeglio himself, who declined the burden, because, 
 on the one hand, he did not believe that renewed 
 hostilities with Austria could have any chance of 
 
XXXIV ENTEODUCTION. 
 
 success, and, on the other, he had not the heart to 
 sign a treaty of peace in such sad circumstances, 
 both domestic and foreign. 
 
 Depressed in spirits, and embittered by the down- 
 fall of the national prospects, he went to La Spezia, on 
 account of his still open wound. In the short disastrous 
 period of political factions that elapsed between the 
 armistice of August 1848 and the catastrophe of 
 Novara, if D'Azeglio had a gleam of hope, it was 
 when Gioberti conceived the idea of an armed inter- 
 vention in Tuscany and Romagna. 
 
 This design originated in a desire to make the 
 Piedmontese army the guardian of order and re- 
 stored constitutional liberties ; and it pleased D'Aze- 
 glio so much, that he not only modified his severe 
 judgment on Gioberti, and hastened to apprise 
 him from La Spezia of his unconditional adhesion 
 and approval, but he even tried to foUow General 
 Lamarmora's division, which was manceuvring in 
 the neighboui'hood of Sarzana, till his bad health 
 forced him again to renounce active exertion. Be- 
 sides, the illusive hopes fostered by this grand scheme 
 were soon dispelled ; Gioberti was ousted from power 
 by the democratic ministry, doomed to the unenvi- 
 able fame of having precipitated the Piedmontese 
 army into the disaster of No vara. 
 
 That fatal day drew nigh. D'Azeglio foresaw 
 
WTJIODUCTION. XXXV 
 
 its issue ; but when the die was cast for -war, he re- 
 frained from all recrimination. The royal army did 
 its duty, and fought so stoutly against dispropor- 
 tionate odds as to make Eadetzki himself acknow- 
 ledge that without the superior forces at his com- 
 mand he should have lost the day. Shortly after the 
 catastrophe, D'Azeglio wrote to M. E. Eendu : 
 
 '■ La Spezia, 3 avril 1849. 
 
 " Mon eher ami, vous le savez, a cette heure, 
 tout est fini. Je 1' avals pr^vu, — et il ne faUait pas 
 etre sorcier pour cela, — ^lorsque je refdsai la presi- 
 dence du conseil, ne voulant ni jeter le pays dans le 
 desastre qui le frappe maintenant, ni signer une paix 
 qu'une suite funeste d'erreurs et de fautes avait 
 rendue inevitable. Je crois vous I'avoir ecrit dans 
 le temps. 
 
 " Vous pouvez imaginer comme j'ai le coeur serre. 
 Avoir travaille toute sa vie dans une seule pensee, 
 sans esperer jamais qu'une occasion se present&t ; la 
 voir arriver, surpassant toute prevoyance raisonnable; 
 et puis sentir tout cet edifice s'^crouler dans un jour ! 
 Apres de pareUs coups on ne garde que les appar- 
 ences de la vie. L'ame et le cceur sont morts. Je 
 ne verrai plus ma pauvre chere patrie delivree du 
 joug. Que la volenti de Dieu soit faite ! 
 
 " Je n'ai pas la force de vous expliquer quel mal- 
 heureux r61e ont joue dans notre catastrophe I'ignor- 
 
XXXVl INTKODUCTION. 
 
 anee, les mauvaises passions, les rages de parti. Je 
 vous •raconterai cela un jour. Pour le moment, 
 je desire seulement qu'on sache, — puisque tout est 
 perdu, — qu'au moins I'armee s'est bien battue. Nous 
 n'avons plus que notre honneur. Dans notre cnam- 
 bre,— formee par Valerie* et la jeune Italie de tout ce 
 qu'il J avait de mediocre et de vulgaire dans le pays, 
 
 — un M. L a prononce des paroles inconcevables. 
 
 Ce n'etait guere mauvais vouloir, je pense, mais 
 pure betise. E donnait a entendre que I'ennemi 
 etait inferieur en nombre, et n'avait que trente-cinq 
 raille hommes ! Voici ce que m'ecrit mon frere 
 de Turin : ' Abereromby lia detto e ripetuto die 
 Radetzki stesso trattenendosi con lui gli aveva 
 dichiarato, che senza la forte maggioranza del nu- 
 mero, e di nuovi battaglioni che faceva avanzare 
 a rinfrancar 1' azione, la giornata, per lui, era 
 perduta : quel diavoli di Piemontesi, diceva, sono 
 sempre gli stessi, e malgrado il minor numero loro 
 e la stanchezza deUe marce fatte, bo temuto piu d' una 
 volta di dovermi ritirare.'f Deux generaux de divi- 
 
 * A Piedmontese lawyer, then a radical leader in the elective 
 house. 
 
 t " This is what my brother writes me from Turin : ' Aber- 
 eromby' (Sir Ralph, the then British minister at Turin) ' has said 
 and repeated that Eadetzki himself declared to him, that with- 
 out the great advantage of numbers, and of fresh battalions 
 which he brought forward to sustain the action, he should have 
 lost the day. Those devils of Piedmontese, quoth he, are always 
 
INTEODUCTION. XXXVU 
 
 sion sont morts : le Marquis Passalacqua et M. Per- 
 rone, celui qui servait en France, et y a epouse la 
 niece de M. de La Fayette. Un autre est blesse, 
 le general Bes. Dans tous les regiments un grand 
 nombre d'ofEciers tues ou blesses. Dans un seul de 
 bersaglieri, sur trente officiers, vingt-cinq manque- 
 rent a I'appel le soir. L'artillerie a fait des pertes 
 enormes. Un des fils de Cesare Balbo, Ferdinand, tui 
 brave jeune homme de dix-buit ans, lieutenant dans 
 la batterie ou son frere Prosper etait capitaine, a eu la 
 tete emportee par un boulet. Ce pauvre Balbo, qui 
 ne vit que pour ses enfants, supporte cependant ce 
 malbeur avec une grande fermete. — II parait que le 
 general Eamorino est un traitre. II a d^sobei au 
 general en chef, et fait manquer son plan. On I'a 
 arrete a Arona, comme il se sauvait en Suisse, et on 
 I'a conduit a Turin garrotte. H est sous conseil de 
 guerre.* 
 
 " Je suis a la Spezia, tachant de me retablir ; 
 mais ma blessure est toujours ouverte, et je crains 
 que j'en aurai encore pour longtemps. Elle m'a 
 epargne d'etre temoin de cet afireux desastre. J'at- 
 tends ma fille qui est au convent, a Florence, et dont 
 
 the same ; and notwithstanding their inferior numbers, and the 
 fatigue of the marches they had undergone, I more than once 
 feared I should be obliged to retire.' " 
 
 * He was convicted, as may be remembered, and shot. 
 
XXXVlll lOTEODUCTION. 
 
 la sante reclame des soins assidus. Je vais m y 
 consacrer. Cela m'aidera, j'espere, pen a peu, a 
 accepter. Je ne vois plus rien a faire ponr le mo- 
 ment. H faut rouler jusqu'au fond de I'abime pour 
 voir ou Ton s'arrete, et pour se reconnaitre. Alors 
 nous recommeneerons ! mais ce n'est pas moi qui 
 cueillerai le fruit. Souvenons-nous que I'amour de 
 la patrie est sacrifice, et non jouissance. 
 
 . " Veuillez, je vous prie, communiquer a M. Dou- 
 bet * ce qu'il y a d'essentiel dans cette lettre ; je suis 
 siir qu'il partage notre affliction. Et surtout, taehez 
 que tout le monde sache que nous etions cinquante 
 mille hommes, comme avoue Eadetzki dans son 
 bulletin, et qu'il nous a attaques avec quatre-vingt 
 mille, et que nous nous sommes bien battus. — Adieu, 
 mon cher ami : nous sommes accables, mais point 
 decourages ; c'est un long travail a refaire, voili, 
 tout. Vous qui avez plaide notre cause avec tant de 
 cceur et de talent, aidez-nous a retablir les faits, et a 
 preserver le seul bien qui nous reste — I'honneur." 
 
 This letter depicts D'Azeglio. The sentence, il 
 nous reste I'honneur ! expresses his noble spirit : nous 
 
 * A very distinguished Frenclimaii, who spent several winters 
 in Italy for his health, and thus btoame acquainted with Massimo 
 d'Azeglio. M. Doubet returned to Italy with an official mission in 
 1853 and 1854 ; and to bim D'Azeglio wrote several of the letters 
 contained in his political correspondence. 
 
INTEODTICTION. XXXIX 
 
 recommencerom ! is the thoiight of the patriot of un- 
 diminished faith. 
 
 The bitter cup, however, had to be drained to 
 the dregs, and all Italy atoned for the short space 
 of lawless anarchy by half a score of years of cruel 
 wanton reaction. Sad years of expiation those were ! 
 years of exile, sacrifice, and hopeless yearnings under 
 the triumphant oppression of the most atrocious 
 tyranny. 
 
 Amid the general squalor one bright spot remained. 
 Piedmont had survived the wreck of so many hopes 
 and righteous expectations. Through the darkness, 
 the clouds that overcast the horizon on all sides, 
 the star of Italy might still be seen shining over 
 Turin as a rallying-point for the future, in spite of 
 the violence of the storm. At the foot of the moun- 
 tains among the stout guardians of the Alps there 
 were men preordained by Providence religiously to 
 keep up the national aspirations by offering a safe 
 asylum to the shattered rights of a whole people, 
 and a hospitable retreat to the wandering brethx'en 
 driven from their hearths by the blind fury of ruth- 
 less despots. For the weal of Italy at that supreme 
 moment, God gave Piedmont a youthful prince, 
 who had already won his spm's on the field of 
 battle, and a statesman whose name alone guaran- 
 teed the honour and dignity of the country. 
 
xl INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Having vainly sought victory or death on the 
 fatal plain of Novara, Charles Albert, with a mag- 
 nanimous disregard of self, and only anxious for the 
 future of Italy, resigned his crown to his eldest son, 
 and retired to the far-distant shores of Portugal to 
 die a voluntary exile. 
 
 The new king, after signing the armistice dic- 
 tated by hard necessity, went to Turin to take his 
 oath of fidelity to the constitution. 
 
 That was a grand and memorable hour for the 
 Italians. On the morrow of an immense disaster, 
 amidst treachery, anarchical passions, with reaction 
 defiantly raising its head everywhere, Victor Eman- 
 uel, firmly grasping in his hand the national flag, 
 steeped in gore, torn by Austrian bullets, but re- 
 spected and honoured by the very enemy, solemnly 
 swore to maintain the liberties granted by his father. 
 
 Here began one of the most conspicuous epochs 
 of D'Azeglio's life. He had been a principal ui- 
 strument in preparing the great Itahan upheaval, 
 and now it was again his lot to save the popular 
 cause from the dangers which menaced it on every 
 side, and guide it into the path which, though under 
 another illustrious chief, was to lead to its ultimate 
 triumph. 
 
 Two ways lay open before the youthful monarch : 
 he might either renounce all idea of future grandeur, 
 
INTKODUCTION. xll 
 
 and attend to the consolidation of the constitution 
 within the narrow boundaries of Piedmont, or stake 
 his fate on that of Italy, and proclaim the principle of 
 nationality. True this latter course was full of dangers 
 and uncertainty. But Victor Emanuel sprang from 
 too generous a race to hesitate, and selected, as every- . 
 one knows, the more difficult line — the one that was 
 to confer so much glory both on his royal house and 
 country, by the loyal observance of constitutional in- 
 stitutions, and the transformation of Piedmont into 
 a palladium of Italian liberties, the only remnant 
 of the great revolution saved from the ruin of No- 
 vara, but which preserved the seeds that were, ten 
 years later, to ripen into the entire emancipation of 
 the Peninsula. 
 
 The politician to whose lot it fell to share the 
 perils of the situation, and to advise Victor Emanuel 
 at that eventful instant, was Massimo d'Azeglio. 
 A new ministry had been hastily composed under 
 M. de Launay, a native of Savoy, an honest con- 
 servative, who had neither the power of enforcing 
 respect to the constitution, nor that of dispelling 
 the generally -prevailing mistrust. Under such 
 -auspices, the administration could be but a short- 
 lived one ; and the future king of Italy summoned 
 D'Azeglio, not only to form a cabinet, but absolutely 
 to save the country. Perhaps the young monarch, 
 
xlii INTEODUCTION. 
 
 in those agitated and gloomy days, did not guess 
 that the man he was thus placing at the head of his 
 government was destined to lay the foundation of 
 his future rise. 
 
 With remarkable precision of thought M. de 
 Mazade says, in his Primrseurs Italiens : "A roi 
 galant homme galant homme ministre, c'est Ihis- 
 toire de cette heure delicate et decisive. Par son 
 passe, par son caractere, par un liberalisme aussi 
 ferme que modere, par le patriotisme qui avait fait 
 sa popularite et qu'on le savait homme a ne point 
 abdiquer, par cette blessure m^me dont il souffrait 
 encore, D'Azeglio 6tait une garantie poiu' tous." 
 
 It was a great sacrifice for D'Azeglio to become 
 minister at that conjuncture, when the public spirit 
 was still cast down by recent misfortune, amid con- 
 tending passions, with an Austrian garrison holding 
 the citadel of Alessandria. Three months before, he 
 had declined Charles Albert's offer to form a cabinet. 
 After Novara, he obeyed the orders of the new 
 king, fully appreciating the extent of the sacrifice, 
 yet decided to accomplish his ungratefiil task with 
 an iron will. 
 
 The first thing required was to negotiate as honour- 
 able a peace with Austria as circumstances permitted, 
 in spite of the extreme parties, which stigm.atised 
 any compromise with the foreigner as treason ; and 
 
INTRODUCTION. xllii 
 
 this, be it remembered, whilst the Austrians were 
 in possession of a considerable part of the eomitry, 
 threatening nothing less than an alteration of the 
 frontier. Everything conspired against us. Among 
 foreign powers, some regarded us with inactive sym- 
 pathy, some with doubtful compassion, and everyone 
 would have decHned to lend us the smallest assist- 
 ance. Internal affairs were in utter disorder; and 
 notwithstanding this dark horizon, it was voted better 
 to transform Turin into a new Saguntum than come 
 to terms with Austria ! 
 
 In aU Italy there was then no more perfect type 
 of honour and honesty, both in private and pubKc 
 life, than Massimo d'Azeglio. Liberal without os- 
 tentation, and loyal beyond all suspicion, he cer- 
 tainly was one of the men who loved Italy most 
 intensely and disinterestedly; but the native sin- 
 cerity of his character abhoi'red secret societies, con- 
 spiracies, and accordingly rabid demagogy, their 
 natural offspring, which were then trying hard to 
 gain the upper hand. He was not therefore the 
 man who, at such moment, with right on his side, 
 would give way to street demonstrations or radical 
 speeches. While a bhnd and infatuated throng 
 spread ominous reports of treason, D'Azeglio was 
 steadily carrying on the long and laborious negotia- 
 tions with Austria. The pretensions of the victorious 
 
xliv INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Imperialists were great on this score; but he had 
 given the most stringent- instructions to the Pied- 
 montese representatives to refuse any clause re- 
 pugnant to the strictest sense of honour; and the 
 little kingdom, although invaded by the enemy, with 
 neither money nor an army, yet found strength to 
 rally, under the leadership of D'Azeglio, and exact 
 that the Austrians should recross the frontier. 
 
 At last, on the 6th of August 1849, the treaty 
 was definitively signed ; but, to give it effect, the 
 sanction of parliament was of course required. I 
 have described the unsettled state of affairs at that 
 unfortunate period, and the Chamber reflected the 
 temper of the country by unwisely refusing its rati- 
 fication. D'Azeglio had the courage to oppose his 
 own liberal instincts : still, he did not swerve an 
 instant from the path his conscience dictated, and 
 twice he dissolved parliament, the same deputies be- 
 ing twice returned, as only radical electors appeared 
 at the poll ; the ratification of the treaty of peace 
 thus continued to be refused. The last time the 
 Chamber of Deputies was dismissed, the King issued 
 a manifesto, countersigned by Massimo d'Azeglio as 
 prime minister, known as the proclamation of Mon- 
 calieri, after the royal castle from which it was dated. 
 That proclamation has now assumed the importance 
 of an historical fact. It ought not to be viewed 
 
INTRODUCTION. xlv 
 
 in the reactionary light in which it appeared at the 
 moment, not as many at present consider it — as an 
 act of pure royal prerogative. It could hardly be 
 called a coup d'dtat; butD'Azeglio brought the King 
 prominently forward, and put into his mouth strong 
 words, throwing all future responsibility on the 
 country if it persisted in refusing its assistance to 
 the government. 
 
 The purport of that proclamation was special, 
 positive, and straightforward; betraying a firm re- 
 solve to save the monarchy and the nation at all 
 cost. The people understood, and the future of 
 'Italy was secured ; but the obstacles D'Azeglio's 
 will overcame at that period were such as might 
 have daunted and discouraged the most energetic 
 and resolute statesman. On this occasion he gave 
 proofs of extraordinary intrepidity and patriotism, aU 
 the more sublime for its being calmly accomplished 
 without the applause of the public, nay, against the 
 popular current, and also but too much against his 
 own dearest wishes. 
 
 The new house voted the treaty, and the ministry 
 was then in a position to submit to parliament all 
 its schemes for the financial and administrative re- 
 organisation of the kingdom. D'Azeglio had a most 
 arduous enterprise before him. Every branch of the 
 service required a complete reconstruction: the ex- 
 
 VOL. I. d 
 
xlvi mTKODUCTION. 
 
 hausted exchequer wanted funds for tlie first neces-. 
 sities of the state ; the army had to be entirely re- 
 modelled ; pubhc order reestablished after the period 
 of revolution and war, from which the country had 
 just emerged ; and lastly it was indispensable to show 
 Europe that the only part of Italy which had survived 
 the wreck was seriously bent on profiting by the lesson, 
 and making preparations to meet the emergencies 
 the future had in store. 
 
 Thus, whilst in the rest of the Italian peninsula, 
 and in Europe, reaction reigned triumphant, the 
 little sub-alpine state, under the guidance of a great 
 man, healed its wounds, expended large sums in re- 
 fox'ming its army and finances, developed its liberties, 
 and became, more than the refuge, the real home of 
 all Italians banished from their own. 
 
 In every department Massimo d'Azeglio was pre- 
 paring the ground upon which others were destined 
 to reap so rich a harvest. 
 
 Our struggle with Eome and the clerical party 
 also began at this time. Among the first laws pre- 
 sented to Parliament was the bill for the aboHtion 
 of the ecclesiastical jurisdiction in civil matters (Feb- 
 ruary 25th, 1850) ; and D'Azeglio never failed 
 strenuously to defend the rights of the crown and 
 of the civil power against the clerical party in the 
 Chambers and at Eome itself. This was the first 
 
miKODUOTiON. xlvii 
 
 act of open opposition to the Papal Court ; an act 
 brought about only by its obstinacy, as since 1847 
 the negotiations with the Holy See on the subject of 
 the ecclesiastical tribunals had been pursued withr- 
 out any result ; then the constitution of 1848, abro- 
 gating aU civil distinctions, intervened; but Eome 
 remained deaf to all representations — nay more, she 
 answered, as if in derision, by a counter-proposal, 
 according to which even increased privileges would 
 have been extorted from the civil authority. 
 
 This is another instance of D'Azeglio's chivalry. 
 With such a document in his hands, the Prime 
 Minister could have shown by material evidence the 
 fiitiKty of attempting to treat any farther, as Rome 
 would admit no basis for an understanding that was 
 not an utter impossibility. He, however, declined to 
 do so. This counter-proposal concealed such clerical 
 blindness and tenacity, such priestly hatred, and its 
 pubHcation would have so deeply wounded the reli- 
 gious feelings of the country, that D'Azeglio, though 
 legally authorised to produce it^ preferred remaining 
 silent, and facing the odium of such an important 
 measure alone. 
 
 But when, a few years later. Cardinal Antonelli 
 pubHcly intimated, in 1855 — I forget in what docu- 
 ment — that, among other things. Piedmont had been 
 guilty of breaking faith and grossly violating the 
 
xlviii mTEODUCTION. 
 
 Concordat since the example first given under' 
 D'Azeglio's administration, he could restrain himself 
 no longer, and retorted by one of those fine satirical 
 pamphlets, to which the public was now well accus- 
 tomed; yet this one was specially remarkable for 
 the novel imaee of the two consciences he attributed 
 to His Eminence the Papal Secretary of State and 
 the members of the Roman Curia. 
 
 With all the energy of truth, he dexterously re- 
 minded the Cardinal that by living in certain atmo- 
 spheres every sense of honour becomes extinct, and 
 an artificial conscience takes the place of the natural 
 one implanted by God in the heart of every man, 
 and which for the Cln-istian is the only criterion of 
 what is just and honest. 
 
 As we see, it was D'Azeglio who initiated the 
 religious conflict too, the vast proportions of which 
 later almost frightened him who had given the first 
 impulse. 
 
 Every branch of the public service was thus 
 undergoing the complete reform indispensably re- 
 quisite after the adoption of an entirely new policy. 
 The provident premier placed Lamarmora, that ex- 
 cellent organizer, at the head of the war-office, to 
 reconstruct the army that was to form the nucleus 
 of the future Itahan forces; and he has also the 
 credit of having been the first to offer Cavour a 
 
INTEODUCTION. xHx 
 
 share in the government. Already, at that early 
 moment, Oavonr attracted public attention by the 
 prominent position he had earned both in Parlia- 
 ment and in the press. When D'Azeglio proposed to 
 admit Cavour into the cabinet, the King smilingly 
 warned him that he was introducing an element 
 likely by degrees to absorb the whole administration. 
 D'Azeglio was not one to stop at this selfish consider- 
 ation when he deemed the interest of the state to be 
 concerned, and he cheerfully welcomed a colleague 
 who was but too truly destined to realise the royal 
 prediction. D'Azeglio understood it at once, and 
 jokingly said to a friend, " With this little man at 
 my side, I am like Louis Philippe — I reign, but do 
 not govern." 
 
 Between the two statesmen there existed a pro- 
 found disparity of opinions, and their characters like- 
 wise offered no less an antithesis. 
 
 They were both aristocrats, attracted towards 
 democracy — ^the one by instinct, the other by reason. 
 In the former, a high sense of honour, love of jus- 
 tice, and hatred for violence, tempered the natural 
 instinct ; in the latter, reasoning stifled the influences 
 of caste and tradition, and, his goal once marked out, 
 hardened his resolve to attain it at any risk. 
 
 The first differences between them arose in Par- 
 liament. The immediate cause was the law on the 
 
1 INTEODTJCTION. 
 
 press, in May 1852. Without consultiDg the premier, 
 Cavour assumed an attitude in the Elective Chamber 
 which engaged the government in a new political 
 line. The young minister, thereby boldly breaking 
 with the right, upon which the cabinet had hitherto 
 leaned, and accomphshing the famous coalition 
 with the left, headed by Eattazzi, performed the 
 extremely dexterous manoeuvre designated in the an- 
 nals of Piedmontese parliamentary life by the name 
 of connuhio. 
 
 The addition of this audacious proof of the iU-dis- 
 guised independent spirit of Cavour to the internal 
 divisions that had already caused a split in the cabi- 
 net made the cup overflow, and D'Azeglio resigned 
 office, thinking he coidd not retain it with dignity. 
 The King made due amends to D'Azeglio by in- 
 trusting him with the formation of a new administra- 
 tion : in this he succeeded, excluding his stirring 
 colleague. The change, however, hardly offered a 
 solution, and the government was undoubtedly weak- 
 ened by the loss or tlie animosity of a man now 
 possessing great authority in Parliament. D'Azeglio 
 felt it, and having assumed power — not out of ambi- 
 tion, but because he deemed it a necessity — pi'oved 
 over-ready to rehnquish it, in October of the same 
 year (1852), as soon as he found a worthy successor. 
 A desertion of his post before that he would always 
 
mTRODTJCTION-. li 
 
 have looked on as a base action. Now, on the cout 
 trary, this determination appeared a duty, and he con- 
 sidered the opportunity most propitious for retiu'ning 
 to a cakner life and his former favourite pursuits. 
 
 The truth also was, that poor D'Azeglio was tired. 
 His badly-healed wound continued to cause him great 
 suifering, which was not foreign to the sort of moral 
 lassitude that began to pervade him. He had become 
 prime minister when straightforwardness of character 
 was the indispensable quaUty in the man hoMing the 
 destinies of the state in his hands. The position of 
 affairs was now quite different. D'Azeglio did not 
 possess the ardent activity of ambition which can 
 alone cope with a stormy parhament; nor had he 
 any love for the complicated policy, for the bold and 
 subtle expedients suited to the intricate situation of 
 the day, indispensable for steering the fragile bark 
 of Piedmontese hopes safely through the reefs and 
 dangerous breakers interposed between her and the 
 harbour to which she was bound. D'Azeglio was 
 ' aware of all this, and he had the greatness of soul to 
 acknowledge it to his friend in his correspondence — 
 " Outre que je ne suis pas devore d' ambition, je n'en 
 puis plus physiquement, et Ics affaires eussent fini 
 par en soufirir. J'ai a me reprocher, je vous le dis 
 franchement, de ne pas avoir mis assez d'activite dans 
 les demieres affaires de Eome. On a fait quelques 
 
lii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 sottises, qu'une action plus minutleuse de ma part 
 aurait sans doute prevenues." 
 
 His rival was, on the contrary, ambition and 
 energy incarnate. He had the passion for affairs, 
 his genius pervaded the whole cabinet. Even when 
 serving under the ex-premier, he was the soul of 
 the administration ; his wonderful mind adapted it- 
 self to all its branches. Equally preeminent at the 
 Board of Public Works, at the Ministry of Marine, 
 and as Finance and Foreign Minister, Cavour was 
 the man to avail himself of everything for the sake 
 of the plan he dared to conceive ; nor was he stopped 
 by the consideration of any danger whatever; and 
 in the eight years that his administration lasted, 
 with one short interval, with singular skiU. and 
 practical spirit he fostered all combinations at home 
 and abroad which could advance the solution of his 
 one great idea, and eventually crown it with success. 
 Meanwhile the very different D'Azeglio de- 
 scended from his elevated rank and quietly withdrew 
 into private life. He chanced in those days to stop at 
 a small town near Genoa; the innkeeper asked his 
 name and profession, and he answered : " Massimo 
 d'Azeglio, negoziante di carta sporca" (soiled-paper 
 dealer) ; while all Italy laiew with what ink he was 
 wont to soil paper ! He refused all the honours 
 and distinctions the King offered him in ackuowledg- 
 
INTRODUCTION. ]iii 
 
 ment of his services, on the ground that being poor, 
 and. obliged to earn a Kvelihood by his brush, so 
 humble a position did not allow him to accept the 
 highest dignities the countiy could bestow ; and, like 
 Cincinnatus, he repaired to his modest laborious life. 
 Passionately fond of horses, as the reader will see 
 by his Memoirs, on leaving office he sold all those 
 he possessed, jestingly saying, " Once more I return 
 to the infantry !" The only thing he did not include 
 in this general refusal was his nomination to the 
 Upper House of ParKament, as, .owing to his wound, 
 his health no longer allowed him to share the excite- 
 ment of the Elective Chamber. 
 
 It had been a strange sight to behold on the 
 ministerial bench this artist, who had wandered over 
 the whole of Italy with his traps on his back, rest- 
 ing sometimes in a wood, sometimes or( a moun- 
 tain; one day mixing with his equals in aU the 
 splendours of a Roman palace, -the next perhaps 
 enjoying a chat with a brigand-band in some dark 
 almost primeval forest, where he was bent on snatch- 
 ing from nature her secret wonders of light and 
 shade, and another day a popular leader in a town 
 of Eomagna ; often the object of an ovation, and not 
 unfrequently too slipping through the fingers of the 
 sbirri ! Indeed, this most simple and unsophisticated 
 man had a curious way of being prime minister, no 
 
liv INTEODUCTION. 
 
 doubt very much at variance with that of all past and 
 future potentates. The following anecdote is an in- 
 stance of the extent to which he carried his contempt 
 for everything in any way tainted with baseness. 
 
 Shortly after his assumption of power, the Maz- 
 zinian party put the government to many serious 
 trials. The famous agitator, with an activity and 
 zeal worthy of a better cause, either by cavils or 
 pretexts was incessantly inciting the people against 
 the authorities, thus preventing the work of recon- 
 struction undertaken by the king and government in 
 order to re-establish that tranquilhty of which the 
 kingdom of Sardinia was then so sadly in want. 
 
 One day when the street-demonstrations raged 
 most, and the danger of great disorders became im- 
 minent, D'Azeglio received a mysterious warning 
 from London : he looked at it, and being anonymous, 
 he crushed it in his hand and carelessly tln'ew it 
 into the fire. Not long after, another communi- 
 cation arrived from the same source ; but this time 
 it was not anonymous. Its author trusted, he said, 
 to D'Azeglio's honesty. The prime minister treated 
 the second warning hke the first, and, to satisfy 
 fuUy the confidence of the wiiter, consigned this 
 epistle also to the flames. 
 
 At last came a third letter, no longer from Lon- 
 don, but dated Turin. The mysterious proposal was 
 
INTRODUCTION. Iv 
 
 I. 
 
 as follows. First of aU, Mazzini was represented 
 as the principal author of the pi'evailing agitation. 
 Thence the necessity for the government to get him 
 out of the way. He (the writer) had the means of 
 safely putting the great conspirator into the hands 
 of the police, with every guarantee that no inter- 
 national troubles would be caused by the arrest ; and 
 should any resistance be offered, he then pledged his 
 word that in such an emergency more decisive and 
 energetic means would be resorted to : the latter were 
 not clearly explained, though their atrocious meaning 
 was obvious. All this for a certain sum. 
 
 " And this man is an Itahan !" at last burst out 
 D'AzegKo. " And he beUeves me capable of spend- 
 ing the pubKc money on such heinous schemes ! Upon 
 my soul, I am rather tempted to send Mazzini some 
 money, that he may himself carry out the whole ope- 
 ration in an inverse sense !" 
 
 The mysterious adviser was not to be found any- 
 where. Perhaps he saw from what quarter the wind 
 blew, and decamped. 
 
 But this gentlemardike bonJiomie in state affairs 
 did not prevent his attaching a very stern point of 
 honour to his ofEcial functions. 
 
 A French envoy then accredited at Turin, who 
 was eagerly hunting-down a poor devil of a political 
 refugee, once wrote to D'Azegho an official com- 
 
Ivi mTEODUCTION. 
 
 munication on this subject, in which he almost 
 openly asserted it was enough to be a scoundrel to 
 insure the protection of his excellency the prime 
 minister and that of the Piedmontese government. 
 D'Azeglio, for reply, sent him his seconds, of whom 
 General Lamarmora was one ; and the insolent note 
 was withdrawn by the irate diplomatist. 
 
 This unambitious premier, broken in health and 
 rather hlasd, put a stop to all the evils of poor dilapi- 
 dated Piedmont by the courageous step embodied in 
 the proclamation of Moncalieri, which was to achieve 
 its cure; and under his liberal and provident rule the 
 kingdom of Sardinia, restored to vigour, sprang up 
 again, and became the kingdom of Italy. 
 
 One proof of this is that Cavour had not been two 
 years at the head of affairs when the improved condi- 
 tion of the country already allowed him to devise the 
 participation in the Crimean war, and his consequent 
 admission to the exciting discussions on the Italian 
 question at an European Congress. No animosity 
 existed between the chief of the past administration 
 and the fortunate rival who led the succeeding one ; 
 so much so, that the elder statesman frequently sus- 
 tained the younger in parliament, and especially so 
 on the occasion of the Piedmontese adhesion to the 
 alliance against the Russian empu'e. 
 
 This was one of those flashes of Cavom''s genius 
 
rNTEODUCTION. Ivii 
 
 neither understood nor appreciated when first an- 
 nounced; and even among the ministers it gave rise 
 to such objections, that a crisis seemed to be on the 
 point of threatening the very existence of the cabinet. 
 Massimo d'Azegho at the beginning was also among 
 the opponents ; but his quick intellect soon led him 
 to seize the true meaning of the wonderful stroke of 
 skill by which the small Piedmontese monarchy was 
 brought so conspicuously forward beside the great 
 Western powers ; and with his usual sincerity he at 
 once withdrew his early disapproval, and publicly 
 declared his readiness to support the scheme with 
 his influence. 
 
 As soon as Cavour heard of this he hastened to 
 D'Azeglio's house, not only to express his gratitude 
 warmly, but even generously to offer his illustrious 
 predecessor the presidency of a new administration, 
 in which he would be glad to accept a department, 
 and lend him his best cooperation. The veteran 
 statesman met his junior's disinterested proposal as 
 it deserved, and refused, promising strenuously to 
 defend his poKcy by every means in his power. He 
 did not fail to do so; and his authoritative voice, 
 both in and out of parliament, was of the greatest 
 assistance to Cavour; a noble example of self-denial 
 and patriotism too seldom witnessed between rival 
 political leaders, and very illustrative of the qualities 
 
Iviii INTEODUCTION. 
 
 of the men who had the rare fortune to accomplish 
 the greatest national reconstruction known in modern 
 history ! 
 
 Count Cavour thus remained in office; and the 
 Piedmontese soldiers went to the Crimea to win for 
 their country the privilege of being the champion of 
 Italian rights and hopes before the most solemn 
 European assembly. 
 
 The rivalry of the two leading men, instead of 
 fostering the private interests of either, turned to 
 the sole benefit of Italy; and when at the end of the 
 war, in the autumn of 1855, Victor Emanuel went 
 to Paris and London, accompanied by Count Cavour 
 and D'Azeglio, the former had so high a respect for 
 the latter's character, that he said to everybody, 
 " The presence of Massimo d'Azeglio at the king's 
 side wiU show Europe that we are not infected by 
 the besetting sin of revolution." 
 
 At this period already the Emperor Napoleon 
 asked Cavour, "Que pent on faire pour VltalieV 
 and the task of answering that important question 
 was intrusted to D'AzegHo, who willingly accepted 
 it. He accordingly wrote a memorandum on the 
 grievances of the Italian nation, which I have been 
 enabled to peruse. Its contents enumerated with 
 great lucidity the wants of the country at the period 
 when it was written; but after all we have since 
 
INTEODUCTION. ^ lix 
 
 achieved, it now almost elicits a smile to think of our 
 humble demands in 1856, by many deemed over- 
 exacting, and of our successes within the lapse of four 
 years. However this may be, it paved the way for 
 the language Count Cavour was about to hold at the 
 Congress of Paris, that precursor of the Italo-Napo- 
 leonic policy which was to unfold itself to astonished 
 Europe in 1859. 
 
 D'Azeglio was even on the point of being him- 
 self sent to the Congress as the king's first plenipo- 
 tentiary; but at the last moment some disagreement 
 having arisen between him and Cavour, he insisted 
 on the appointment of the latter. And here again 
 his modesty was for the good of Italy. Not that 
 their wishes diverged substantially as to the end 
 to be attained, nor that one was more liberal than 
 the other ; but his patriotic anxiety itself prevented 
 D'Azeglio from lending his approbation to the daring 
 and perilous designs of the bold statesman, which in 
 his eyes were too dangerous and imprudent to be at- 
 tempted. 
 
 Quite an abyss divided him fi:om Cavour. The 
 one belonged to the past, the other to the new gene- 
 ration. The one had prepared the movement, while 
 the other carried it into execution. I reaUy think 
 there are men to whom Providence confides a special 
 mission ; and once accomplished, their power ceases. 
 
Ix INTRODUCTION. 
 
 D'Azeglio was born in another age. In company 
 with a few generous minds, he had dreamt of a 
 glorious future for his native land. His artistic 
 rambles had made every inch of the Italian penin- 
 sula as famihar to him as the wants and aspirations 
 of its inhabitants. The state of Europe, and of 
 Italy herself at that time, rendered it quite impos- 
 sible to foresee that its regeneration and fusion into 
 one nation would take place almost immediately, 
 and in the Avonderful way by which it was brought 
 to pass. 
 
 D'Azeglio, like many of his contemporaries, cer- 
 tainly desired the xmity of Italy with all his heart 
 and soul ; but accustomed, for the greater part of his 
 life, to look for its realisation in a bright far-distant 
 future — a future equally dazzling and remote from 
 the actual wretched condition of the country — 
 he deserves no little credit for having divined the 
 destinies of Italy, and worked for their accomplish- 
 ment with unshaken and persevering faith, during 
 the epoch of darkness and corruption, between the 
 ScyUa of tyranny and the Charybdis of secret socie- 
 ties ; and what wonder if D'AzegKo's poetic and 
 over-scrupulous mind soon found itself outstripped — 
 as is always the case, alas ! — by revolution ? 
 
 In Italian we have a singularly applicable proverb, 
 a cose niiove uomini nuovi — for new things new men. 
 
INTRODUCTION. Ixl 
 
 Never was there an adage truer than this. Massimo 
 d'Azeglio did the work at a period in which Cavour 
 would have signally failed. But when the prepara- 
 tion and instruction of the public spirit had ceased 
 to be the sole object, and the time was come for 
 utilising the elements at hand, good or bad, Cavour 
 appeared in his turn, and finding the way already 
 paved by his illustrious predecessor, his comprehen- 
 sive genius took in the new situation of affairs at a 
 glance, and with extraordinary boldness he embraced 
 a pohcy from which D'Azeglio himself instinctively 
 shrank. A cose nuave uomini nuovi. Cavour cer- 
 tainly did not possess, Kke D'Azeglio, the peculiar 
 qualities requisite for acquiring the ascendancy and 
 influence over the masses of central Italy destined 
 to play so important a part throughout the Italian 
 movement. But in spite of the coldness elicited 
 occasionally by differences between the two great 
 men, D'Azeglio magnanimously forgot his repug- 
 nances in the day of trial, and finally bowed be- 
 fore the bold young Piedmontese leader. His gener- 
 ous nature would not suffer him to remain inactive 
 in the hour of danger, when the fight for inde- 
 pendence was resumed, and his own cherished pro- 
 gramme, for which he had himself striven so long, 
 was at last to be carried out. He had not entirely 
 approved Cavour's theories ; but when, in 1859, he 
 VOL. I. e 
 
Ixii rNTEODTJCTION. 
 
 saw the future of Italy identified with the success 
 of his rival's plans, he hastened to write to him : 
 "Hencefortli I discuss no longer; I accept your 
 policy, and acquiesce in it. The time has arrived 
 for making it triumph, and uniting all our eiforts 
 to insure its victory." And he thus concluded : 
 "Here I am, enlisted among the Cavourini! I 
 know not what I shall be able to do; but I am 
 waiting for orders." 
 
 His offer was at once accepted, and he was sent 
 to Eome to negotiate an understanding with the 
 Roman liberals, while fulfilling the ostensible mission 
 of investing the Prince of Wales with the highest 
 order in the gift of the House of Savoy. He next 
 went to Paris and London as special envoy ; for great 
 eagerness to prevent the war was displayed in every 
 quarter. His object was to establish an acceptable 
 basis for a congress which should decide the Austro- 
 Italian difficulty, and, especially, to persuade the 
 English Tory cabiuet, then in office, of the concilia- 
 tory dispositions evinced by the Sardinian govern- 
 ment. The crisis was of extreme importance ; and 
 I myself heard Count Oavour afterwards say that, 
 though his unflinching faith in the destinies of 
 Piedmont had never abandoned him before, on that 
 one occasion his heart sank with despair ; for the 
 reader may recollect that a proposal was made for a 
 
INTRODUCTION. Ixiii 
 
 general disarmament; and had it been accepted, the 
 patient labour of so many years, the scheme so won- 
 derfully prepared at Plombi^res, would all have fallen 
 to the ground, as no Congress would ever have se- 
 cured to Italy results equal to those of the campaign 
 of 1859. Everybody knows how these negotiations 
 failed by Austria suddenly altering the terras of the 
 offer, thus clearly showing herself bent on war. At 
 last it broke out ; and Romagna having revolted 
 from the Holy See, D'Azeglio was despatched to 
 Bologna. 
 
 After the campaign he became governor of Milan, 
 and remained so till the spring of 1860. 
 
 In May of that year Europe was startled by Gari- 
 baldi's expedition to Sicily, and by the mysterious and 
 intricate concourse of circumstances which preceded 
 and followed it. To borrow the expressions of his 
 biographer, the Marquis Eicci : " D'Azeglio could 
 no longer reconcile himself to a policy he considered 
 not quite honest, and so resigned office. The sudden 
 annexation of the Neapolitan provinces, too, did not 
 greatly please him ; he thought it premature, a work 
 of violence, a focus of discord, a source of weakness, 
 and seriously meditated upon the remedies to be 
 applied to a state of things to which he objected 
 so much." 
 
 After his resignation he again became strongly 
 
Ixiv INTEOD0CTION. 
 
 opposed to Cavour, and withdrew entirely into pri- 
 vate life. He spent in the country all the time he 
 was not obliged to devote to his duties as Director 
 of the Royal Picture- GaUery of Turin, a post to 
 which he had been lately appointed; and he sought 
 alleviation to the disillusions and causes for alarm 
 his anxiety discerned in the state of Italy, at the 
 favourite villa on the Lago Maggiore, which he had 
 built for himself a few years before, in a charming 
 spot between Oannero and Oggebbio. His very ap- 
 pearance was a living image of the weariness of his 
 mind, after the many trials he had gone thi'ough. 
 That pale, noble countenance yet lingers among 
 us, with its soft and expressive look; his exquisite 
 com-tesy and simple manners, and the very sadness 
 that seemed to pervade his whole being during the 
 last few years of his life, still survive in our hearts 
 as proofs of the immense solicitude he incessantly 
 evinced for the welfare and prospects of his beloved 
 country. In that quiet retreat, where he loved to 
 pass a great part of the year, surrounded by a few 
 intimates, he painted, and sometimes wrote. He took 
 particular delight in writing memoirs of some of his 
 departed friends. While so doing he was, however, 
 perfectly impartial, and even here he did not forget 
 his wonted franlaaess. With the fixed idea of re- 
 generating the national character constantly before 
 
XNTEODUOTION. Ixv 
 
 Hm, he saw in the homage paid to the virtues of 
 eminent men a means of rousing his contempo- 
 raries. It was thus that he wrote the life of that 
 noble type of a gentleman and soldier, General 
 Giacinto Collegno, and those of some few other old 
 comrades, with whom Massimo d'Azeglio was always 
 fond of associating himself, as having been among 
 the first to dream of the freedom of Italy. 
 
 He sketched, too, several notices of Italian man- 
 ners and customs, with the artistic charm peculiar to 
 him, whether he wrote or painted. He also treated 
 other and graver subjects. He published, for in- 
 stance, a little volume in French — a language in 
 which, as the reader may have seen by the letters 
 I have quoted, he was a thorough proficient — with 
 the object of proving how the beneficent influence 
 of Christianity and civilisation ought to modify the 
 political aspect of the world, and that departing from 
 the conventional laws established by the peace of 
 Westphalia, the rights of modem peoples should now 
 rest on the principle of nationality. This publication, 
 called ^^ La Politique et le Droit chrStien au point device 
 de la question Italienne,^'' was chiefly written with the 
 view of strengthening the Emperor Napoleon in his 
 resolution of non-intervention,* and bafiling the de- 
 
 * Would someone were able to persuade his Imperial Majesty 
 to revert to this wise and undoubtedly more wholesome policy I 
 
Ixvi mTEODUCTION. 
 
 vices and the obstacles by wliich the sophistry of 
 diplomacy opposed the unification of northern and 
 central Italy, which was but the beginning of the 
 union of its hitherto scattered provinces. 
 
 This short essay, begun perhaps with modest in- 
 tentions, acquired in the heat of argument such power 
 of logic, that it became a serious and weighty philo- 
 sophical work, commanding the attention of every 
 thinker, as do indeed all the philosophical writings 
 with which the solitude of the little villa on the banks 
 of Lago Maggiore inspired its owner. 
 
 But whatever D'Azeglio may have thought of the 
 conduct of his countrymen, he did not admit that 
 any foreign nation had a right to interfere in our 
 affairs. "The day," he said, "that the events of 
 1860 shall be put in jeopardy by foreign violence, 
 1 would be the first to shed my blood in their de- 
 fence." 
 
 The moment was now approaching when the ever- 
 lasting and all-absorbing question of the Papacy was 
 destined more than ever to engross the public mind, 
 and naturally D'Azeglio could not remain an indif- 
 ferent spectator. 
 
 He had not considered the early annexation of the 
 Eoman provinces as in any way illegitimate, or ex- 
 ceeding the rights of the Italians. But as a declared 
 enemy of brute force, and everything resembling vie- 
 
INTEODUCTION. Ixvii 
 
 lence, his noble and elevated character recoiled from 
 the strong measures subsequently adopted, the incar- 
 ceration of the bishops, and other acts to which the 
 government was impelled by the fatal necessity of 
 events. 
 
 Recent facts have brought this vexed Roman 
 question so prominently forward, as to make it my 
 duty to enter fully into aU its particulars, examining 
 the views of a great patriot hke Massimo d'Azeglio, 
 inasmuch as many people, with an evident intention 
 of thwarting Italiaii aspirations, have of late laid 
 much stress on the attitude of D'Azeglio as friendly 
 to the Holy See, taking advantage of his retirement 
 from office, and of his disapprobation of Cavour's 
 conduct, to assert D'AzegHo's dislike of taking Rome 
 from the head of the Church, and implying a change 
 in his mind favourable to the Roman Curia. Let the 
 truth, therefore, be spoken at once, and sweep away 
 the misconceptions so clamorously bruited abroad for 
 any but a charitable purpose. 
 
 The political correspondence of his latter years 
 offers us ample materials for a refutation. 
 
 His ideas on the Roman question are well known; 
 his great point of divergence from Cavour's policy 
 certainly was, that he did not think Rome calculated 
 to be the political capital of Italy. Moreover, personal 
 respect and regard for the present Pope, who had 
 
Ixviii INTKODUCTION. 
 
 formerly originated the Italian movement, — an epoch, 
 he could not efface from his memory, — and lastly, the 
 influence exercised over him by the reminiscences of 
 his youth, and the political school which devised to 
 fr'ee Italy from foreign dominion, and constitute her 
 a sort of national confederacy, only contemplating 
 its unity at some distant date, had never debated 
 whether Eome should be its capital or not, altogether 
 made him pronoimce himself exphcitly on this head 
 whenever he had an opportunity. But with reference 
 to the temporal dominion of the Pope, and the whole 
 of that strange edifice still surviving in the middle of 
 Italy as a stumbling-block in the path of her modem 
 progress, he was equally explicit. 
 
 The reader will find several instances of this in 
 the course of these Memoirs. But D'Azeglio freely 
 expresses his thoughts on this subject in his above- 
 mentioned pohtical correspondence, from which I 
 extract the following significant passages, some of 
 them quoted by a part of the ItaHan press at the 
 time of his death. The first alludes to the respecta- 
 bility of the advisers of the Pope, and draws a parallel 
 between the attitude of the Liberals in 1847, hailing 
 him as the originator of Italian liberties, while by the 
 clerical party he was considered as the scourge of the 
 Church : 
 
 " Je vous ai cite dej^, je crois, le mot de I'anoien 
 
INTKODUCTIOIT. Ixix 
 
 general des jesuites en 1847: 'Le pape actuel est le 
 fleau de I'Eglise ; il n'y a d'autre remede que la 
 ■cloche du Capitole.' Celle qui somie a la mort des 
 papes. Pie IX est \q fliau de I'Eglise! Oui, c'6tait 
 la leur pensee quand nous I'exaltions, nous; quand 
 nous le benissions, ils le maudissaient au fond du 
 coeur. Eh bien! ils ont vaincu ces gens-M; ils ont 
 vaincu lors de TEncyclique du 29 avril, et au mo- 
 ment de la restauration de 1849 ; ils ont vaincu 
 quand ils ont mis sous leurs pieds, grace au 'paHi 
 catJiolique de France, la Constitution donnee par 
 Pie IX ; ils ont vaincu quand ils ont retabli toutes 
 les oppressions et toutes les chaines theocratiques. 
 
 " Eux qui faisaient des voeux pour le triomphe 
 de I'Autriche a Solferino, ils finiront toujours par 
 vaincre tant qu'Us auront un doigt dans le gouverne- 
 ment, et quand les populations se leveront pour les 
 chasser, ils trouveront toujours moyen, — et ils seront 
 de bonne foi en agissant ainsi, — eux, coupables, de 
 dormer leur ehatiment pour une persecution ; eux, 
 oppresseurs, de se poser en victimes; et d'ameuter 
 centre un malheureux peuple, qui se debat sous leurs 
 etouffements, le monde cathoKque tout entier, en 
 criant au sacrilege !" 
 
 On the system that has so long been dominant in 
 Eome hear his words again : 
 
 " Le pouvoir temporel associe avec le spirituel 
 
IxX INTRODUCTION. 
 
 perd necessairement dans ce melange le sentiment 
 de ses limites comme eelui de son but propre. Un 
 gouvernement theocratique est avant tout un pro-' 
 selytisme servi par les lois, par les magistrats, par 
 les sbires, c'est-a-dire le pire de tous les prose- 
 lytismes. Sous un gouvernement ou il n'y a de 
 droits que pour ceux qui professent una religion 
 donnee; ou, dans le sein meme de la societe des 
 fideles, il existe un certain ordre, et dans cette 
 Her archie et dans cet ordre un grand nombre d' ex- 
 emptions, d'immunites, de privileges, on ne pent pas 
 parler d'egalite devant la loi." 
 
 In the next passage with v^hat lucidity does he 
 explain the reasons of the pontifical non possicmus, 
 and the utter impossibihty of obtaining a reform ! 
 
 " Quand on parle de reformes dans les Etats de 
 I'EgHse, on oublie trop facilement que I'Eglise a 
 une legislation qui se nomme le droit canon; que 
 le pape, meme comme souverain temporel, n'est pas 
 un homme, mais une institution, une tradition vi- 
 vante, immuable, comme le passe. Le pape separe 
 du droit canon qui a fixe cette tradition, ne serait 
 plus que le pecheur de Galilee ; I'abrogation du 
 droit canon serait le protestantisme dans la con- 
 stitution de I'EgKse : lorsqu'on demande au pape 
 d'abolir d'un trait de plume les constitutions de 
 ses predecesseurs, peut-on esperer qu'il cede? On 
 
INTEODUCTION. Ixxi 
 
 abdique pour ne pas eeder; on ne cede pas pour 
 abdiquer." 
 
 As may be readily gathered from the preceding 
 extracts, if D'Azeglio opposed the idea of Rome as 
 the capital of Italy, his opinion of the pontifical 
 government was far from flattering, and the friends 
 of the temporal power had very little cause to re- 
 joice in it; for his verdict on the conditions of the 
 patrimony of St. Peter and its inhabitants was plain 
 and outspoken enough. 
 
 " Qu'on ne vienne pas dire qu'il s'agit ici d'utilite 
 capitale, d'interets spirituels. Eien ne justifie la vio- 
 lation d'un droit formel et precis. Qui vole fait mal, 
 quand meme il n'aurait pas d'autre motif que de 
 faire une donation a I'Eghse. Qui assassine fait 
 mal, quand meme il n'aurait pas d'autre but que 
 de deKvrer I'Eglise d'un ennemi dangereux. Qui 
 viole le droit qu'ont trois millions de creatures hu- 
 maines a ^tre gouvernees selon la raison ; qui tue 
 une nation ayant droit de vivre, fait mal, quand 
 bien meme il serait persuade que le domaine tem- 
 porel est utile k I'Eglise. Et nous ne faisons pas a 
 I'Eglise de Jesus-Christ I'injure de croire que, pour 
 prosperer, elle ait besoin de victimes humaines." 
 
 In another place, treating of the difficulty foreign 
 Catholics have in understanding the wants of Italy, 
 he writes as follows : 
 
Ixxii INTEODUCTION. 
 
 " Le pape des Italiens n'est pas le pape du reste 
 de la catholicite. — L'ltalie est la minorite, soit. Mais 
 puisque c'est de l'ltalie qu'on veut s'occuper, il faut 
 I'accepter telle qu'elle est, telle que I'ont faite ses 
 antecedents Mstoriques, poHtiques, sociaux, religieux, 
 etc. etc. 
 
 " Pour I'etranger, le souverain disparait sous la 
 majeste du pontife, du vicaire de Jesus-Christ, du 
 chef de la communion chretienne la plus logique, la 
 plus ancienne, la plus fortement organisee ; pour le 
 reste du monde, Pie IX est le pape de I'amnistie et 
 du pardon; il est Tinitiateur des reformes et de la 
 regeneration de l'ltalie. Pour les Italiens, par con- 
 tre, le souverain cache le pontife. Bien plus que le 
 vicaire de Jesus-Christ, ils voient en lui le vicaire de 
 VJEmpire, I'obstacle permanent contre lequel se sont 
 brises les efforts des generations pour conquerir I'in- 
 dependance et la liberty. lis ont sous les jeux la 
 Curia Romana; comment voulez-vous qu'ils pren- 
 nent le change ? Comment voulez-vous qu'ils parta- 
 gent au meme degre la veneration dont I'entourent 
 les catholiques de I'etranger ? 
 
 " Le gouvernement romain, qu'a-t-il fait des trois 
 millions de Chretiens que la Providence lui avait 
 donnes? Apres quatre on cinq si^cles d'experience 
 ou en sont-ils ? Ils sont les moins rehgieux, les plus 
 sceptiques des ehretiens, et ce gouvernement ne se 
 
INTRODUCTION. Ixxiii 
 
 soutient (eas unique dans le monde) que par la pre- 
 sence de deux armees etrang^res. Et il s'est trouve 
 un Chretien, un catholique convaincu qui a pu dire 
 aux sujets du papa : ' Votre esclavage est indispens- 
 able a la foi catholique !' Croit-on que dans I'esprit des 
 Italiens cet argument puisse augmenter beaucoup leur 
 attachement a la foi de leurs peres? Ou pour le 
 moins, ne seraient-ils pas en droit de demander si les 
 mots : ' Oneratis homines oneribus qua3 portare non 
 possunt, vos autem ne quidem digito tangitis sarcinas !' 
 ne sont plus dans I'Evangile?" 
 
 We simply beg to ask what answer the temporal 
 authority could oppose to these irrefutable arguments ? 
 
 The possibility of a compromise between the 
 Italian kingdom and the Papacy had already been 
 hinted at by D'Azeglio; and an important event 
 was now about to modify the relations between Italy 
 and Rome. 
 
 Since 1861 the national yearnings for Rome 
 were his chief pre-occupation, and preyed painfully 
 upon his mind. In March of that year he pub- 
 lished his well-known pamphlet on the subject, 
 entitled Questioni Urgenti; in which he once more 
 proposed his favourite solution of the Roman ques- 
 tion in even clearer language than he ever used 
 before: "Nominal sovereignty of the Pope, with 
 all the necessary guarantees for his spiritual inde- 
 
Ixxiv INTKODTJCTION. 
 
 pendence ; munieipal government ; the participation 
 of the Eomans in the rights of the Italians to be 
 as great as possible ; the political capital elsewhere." 
 Again, in a remarkable letter addressed to Eugene 
 Eendu, dated 28th of January 1863, he reverted 
 tenaciously to this scheme. He advocated, in Na- 
 poleon's own words,* " Une combinaison qui en 
 maintenant le Pape maitre chez-lui, abaisserait les 
 barrieres qui separent aujourd'hui ses etats du reste 
 de I'ltalie." " Toute la question est la," concluded 
 Massimo d'Azeglio. Certainly, if such a compact 
 had been possible, instead of the arrangement, signed 
 on the 15th of September 1864, how many misun- 
 derstandings, how many dangers would have been 
 avoided ! 
 
 It is not our intention to enter into the merits 
 or defects of the September convention. Its great 
 redeeming feature certainly was the withdrawal of 
 one of the two foreign armies then encamped in 
 Italy. Upon this argument was founded the de- 
 fence of the treaty in both houses of the Italian 
 parliament. 
 
 It is hard, after recent events, to speak of a 
 diplomatic compromise, the failure of which exposed 
 the very fabric of Italian unity to such great risk. 
 
 * The Imperial letter of the 20th of May 1862 to M. de Thou- 
 venel, then Minister for Foreign Affairs. 
 
INTEODUCTION. Ixxv 
 
 But it must be said that D'Azeglio, from the outset, 
 was strongly opposed to it ; although up to a certain 
 point it embodied his own ideas. Two things galled 
 him : the transfer of the capital, — for while he had 
 been the first to propose Florence as the seat of go- 
 vernment, he revolted from effecting it at the bidding 
 of a foreign power, which exacted such a weighty- 
 pledge of good faith, instead of simply trusting the 
 word of Italy ; — then the absence of any proviso 
 whatsoever about the rights of the Roman popu- 
 lations; rights they possessed just as much as any 
 other people. He wrote to Eugene Rendu on this 
 head : " Je suis, vous le savez, grand admirateur de 
 I'Empereur, k ce point que je donnerais ma vie pour 
 conserver la sienne ; mais je ne puis comprendre 
 comment dans la convention du 15 Septembre il a 
 passd sous silence le droit des populations Romaines. 
 n a eu son idee ; voyons venir." 
 
 It is not my province to examine here what the 
 Emperor's idea may have been; it suffices to say 
 that it was at least not one Massimo d'Azeglio, even 
 with his moderation and his hostility to the procla- 
 mation of Rome as the administrative centre of Italy, 
 would have been likely to applaud. 
 
 At the time of its promulgation, a great many 
 true patriots made the best of the convention; for 
 though the compact contained no clause expressly 
 
Ixxvi INTRODUCTION. 
 
 reserving liberty of action in case unforeseen circum- 
 stances should arise, yet a correspondence exchanged 
 directly after between the French and the Italian 
 cabinets, past events, and the spirit of the age, all 
 combined to suggest a favourable interpretation of 
 this omission. Besides, a great fact, as I said, 
 towered above everything — the cessation of foreign 
 intervention. But this important safeguard, the soul 
 of the whole transaction, was virtually done away 
 with almost from the first by the formation of the 
 Antibes legion, composed of French soldiers wear- 
 ing the pontifical uniform. 
 
 Then came the mission of General Dumont, who 
 reminded them they still owed allegiance to French 
 military law; and to crown all, the letter of the 
 Minister of "War, Marshal Niel, in which he offi- 
 cially repeated the same statement. 
 
 Such ambiguous conduct and so much provoca- 
 tion added fuel to the irritation already excited in 
 Italy, and thus hurried on the events of last October, 
 and a second expedition sallied forth from Toulon, 
 followed by the jamais of M. Eouher. 
 
 Would the high-minded D'Azeglio have approved 
 of all this? or attributed the disaster of Montana 
 solely to the rash imprudence of the Italians ? For, 
 let there be no mistake about the matter, if the 
 great statesman did not deem Cavour's claim on 
 
INTEODUCTION. Ixxvii 
 
 Rome altogether expedient, his ideal solution of the 
 Roman question was one widely differing from the 
 present state of things, of aU the most baneful to 
 the existence of the Pope-king. This is strikingly- 
 developed in these Memou-s. They contain ample 
 proof of how severely he judged the temporal rule 
 of the spiritual chief of our religion, whose mission 
 on earth ought to be one of love and blessing, by 
 the social evils pervading the whole of the Roman 
 states, and the degradation of the lower classes. For 
 example, what can be more expressive than this sen- 
 tence? He was passing through Baccano, a desolate 
 spot of the Roman Campagna, and thus speaks of its 
 wretched inhabitants: "They have sinister and per- 
 verse countenances, like people corrupted by bad 
 government, the mgjaria, the fleecing of passing 
 travellers, and misery; a physical as well as moral 
 rottenness to the very core." 
 
 Having entered into conversation with one of 
 them who cynically unveUed to him all the tricks 
 he resorted to for extorting money from casual tra- 
 vellers, he exclaims : " His candour was so great 
 that I was really unable to brand him as a scoundrel 
 even in petto ; and I mentally ejaculated a string of 
 imprecations against the government, the clerical 
 system, &c. ; and I was more than ever confirmed in 
 the idea that all criterion of /as and nefas is lost, 
 
 VOL. I. / 
 
Ixxviii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 extinguished, dead and buried in the happy pontifical 
 dominions." 
 
 Is this declaration explicit enough? No; D'Aze- 
 glio was not a supporter of the papacy, as many of 
 the clerical party have skilfully though unsuccessfully 
 striven to prove. This point is of so much national 
 importance, under present circumstances especially, 
 as to make me most anxious to prove conclusively 
 that, far from having swerved from the popular 
 policy of the whole country on the Roman difficulty, 
 D'Azeglio, except in a secondary question, was truly 
 Italian in his aspirations. His opposition to Cavour, 
 his resistance to the general outcry for Rome, was 
 chiefly one of form. Indeed, besides the right of the 
 Romans to decide on their destiny advocated in his 
 political correspondence, does ke not say in his Me- 
 moirs, when alluding to the good qualities retained 
 by the Roman populations notwithstanding their pre- 
 sent degradation : " AU these are symptoms of a 
 brave race, with a dare-devil nature, which ought 
 some day to produce good citizens and good soldiers, 
 when it shall be fi'eed from the claws of the Papal 
 government'''' ? Is not this a solemn admission of the 
 fact which some detached portions of his own writ- 
 ings seem to deny ? It must be confessed that on 
 this special topic he singularly indulges the taste for 
 paradox to which his nature was occasionally prone. 
 
INTRODUCTION. Ixxix 
 
 I have before remarked that D'Azegho, although 
 one of the foremost Italian patriots, was born at a 
 time [in which hope was an act of faith, and endur- 
 ance the only means of testifying in its favour. The 
 sudden reaUsation of Italian unity was to the men 
 of his creed a surprise : the politico-religious com- 
 plication deriving from it had never been practically 
 contemplated by them. The new generation, on the 
 contrary, — thanks undoubtedly to the noble sacrifices 
 of their predecessors, — has risen, fused itself into a 
 nation, and imperiously claimed what it thinks its 
 unquestionable rights ; and D'Azeglio, like many of 
 his contemporaries, was in fact dihordi by the march 
 of events; for if it be true that no human force 
 can bring a revolution to pass before it is mature, 
 it is equally tmdeniable that its limits cannot be 
 foreseen, and once set in niotion it becomes impos- 
 sible to arrest its progress, whatever course it may 
 take. It may be retarded, or even stifled for a time ; 
 but what are delays in the history of the struggles 
 of a nation? What social revolution founded on 
 right, honesty, and morality, but has triumphed ulti- 
 mately to its fullest extent ? 
 
 Let us hope the day is not far distant when 
 Europe, when the Catholic world, will see that 
 the interests of Italy and of the Papacy are iden- 
 tical, and the separation of the temporal from the 
 
Ixxx INTKODUCTION, 
 
 spiritual power will no longer appear dangerous to 
 the Church. 
 
 "When people — foreigners in particular — speak 
 of the inopportunity of making Eome the capital 
 of Italy irrespectively of the religious question, the 
 answer is very simple. How did Paris become the 
 capital of France, London that of England, and 
 Eome that of the Roman Empire? Because the 
 whole nation regarded it as its own centre of graviiy, 
 and gathered round it spontaneously, tmconsciously, 
 driven, as it were, by a natural instinct. Now, I 
 would ask, what else do the Italians mean by their 
 cry for Eome ? Can anyone of sound mind entertain 
 for an instant the preposterous notion that classic tra- 
 ditions have anything to do with the present craving 
 for the eternal city ? No. Nobody dreams of Eoman 
 eagles, legions, consuls, or the scholastic list of Capi- 
 toline splendours ; but everyone looks upon Eome as 
 the natural metropolis of the country, lying between 
 the two seas and bounded by the Alps, and the sym- 
 bol of the completion of its unity. 
 
 People scoif at the widespread but erroneous 
 conception that Itahans delight in the mere revival 
 of a political Eome as a sort of child's-play ; and this 
 proves how very little is sometimes known of the true 
 character of the most important questions. Eoman 
 history does not belong to the Italians alone ; it be- 
 
INTRODUCTION. Ixxxi 
 
 longs to the world. The glories of the ancient urbs 
 are now so far from us that, except for tlie archasologi- 
 cal scholar and the schoolboy, it has ceased to have 
 any hold on the modern public mind. But what is, 
 indeed, not so far distant as to be effaced from the 
 recollection of the Italians, is the time when Genoa, 
 Venice, and Pisa were contending for supremacy ; 
 when Naples and Palermo, Turin and Milan were 
 jealously vying with each other, and disunion was 
 the precursor of foreign dominion, the interests of 
 which it invariably fostered. The Italians remember 
 that. May we ask if our adversaries also recoUect 
 the prediction they made, that Italian unity could 
 never last, because of the municipal rivalries of its 
 numerous capitals ? For if not, we might refresh 
 their memory, and make another prediction in our 
 turn; viz. that if Italian unity ever runs a tem- 
 porary risk (I say temporary, having unbounded 
 faith in its final success), it wiU certainly arise 
 from complications brought about, not by internal 
 divisions, but by its very endeavom'S to enforce the 
 natural rights of the nation. 
 
 " How can a state subsist with a foreign and 
 hostile power established in its very midst? How 
 could France or England subsist, were there a 
 hostile and foreign government encamped in Paris 
 or in London ?" was asked by General Menabrea, in 
 
Ixxxii mTEODUCTION. 
 
 the Italian parliament, on the , morrow after Men- 
 tana. 
 
 The anomalous character of such a position would 
 not have escaped a politician like Massimo d'Azeglio ; 
 whatever private sympathies for the present Pope 
 he might have retained in memory of his share in 
 initiating the national reforms of 1847. 
 
 Personal regard for Pius IX. and dislike of rash 
 revolutionary elements did not prevent him from writ- 
 with this remarkable sentence as far back as 1849 : 
 " Quoique je sois modere, retrogrado, etc., je suis au 
 fond et serai toujours du parti qui sauvera I'ltalie. 
 Si les exaltes y parviennent, va pour les exalt^s !" 
 
 Unfortunately, born, as I said, in other days, 
 he forgot that when a people is once roused, it can- 
 not be stopped at pleasure, and that revolutions too 
 often go through sad phases, generally accompanied 
 by deplorable excesses, produced mostly by the 
 blind stubbornness of the adverse party. Conse- 
 quently, hating violence as he did, he sometimes 
 broke out into bitter criticisms on certain acts of the 
 Itahan government and on the recklessness of the 
 nation, through which pierced the feeling of weari- 
 ness that preyed upon him. 
 
 " J'ai fait tant et si bien," wrote he not long be- 
 fore his death, " qu'on ne pent plus me souffrir. . . . 
 Je suis au ban de la cour pour abus de sincerite ; au 
 
INTEODUCTION. Ixxxiii 
 
 ban du ' parti cathoHque' pour leso governo papale ; 
 au ban de la maQonnerie comme contraire k ' Rome 
 capitale;' au ban des sectes et des rouges pour leur 
 avoir dit des Veritas trop dures." And again he 
 added : " Si au mUieu de tout cela, j'ai le coeur 
 triste et la parole amere, ne m'en voulez pas. Je 
 suis vieux, et je ne puis plus rien. Je n'ai qu'une 
 chose a faire, et je la fais : je ti-availle sur mon esprit 
 et sur mes affections, pour les faire plier a la vo- 
 lonte de Dieu." 
 
 Notwithstanding these Htile displays of bitterness, 
 and what I might call the peevishness of his last 
 years, one cannot but feel admiration for the high- 
 hearted man hving for one thought alone, and who 
 to the last moment endiu-ed for Italy an anxiety like 
 that of a loving mother lest her sons should do any- 
 thing wrong, or incur blame for want of warning 
 and advice. Honesty was his first care, honour his 
 device. Hear his words : 
 
 " I must make a declaration. God in His good- 
 ness planted in my heart a love of justice and a 
 
 hatred for injustice and deceit Therefore 
 
 I say frankly that I always hate injustice, no matter 
 who is to profit or may be injured by it. I hate 
 it if it profits my enemies. I hate, it if it profits 
 my friends ; if it profits me. I should still loathe 
 it even if it were profitable to the persons most dear 
 
Ixxxiv INTEODUCTION. 
 
 to me in the world, or if it forwarded the fulfilment 
 of my most ardent yearning to see Italy really re- 
 constituted." 
 
 Such were the principles of one who never for 
 even a second entertained a base idea, though it 
 were to secure all he most coveted ; one who might 
 rightly be called the modern chevalier sans peur et 
 sans reproche. To him Grod confided the mission 
 of dispelling the notion of Macchiavellism tradition- 
 ally connected with Italian politics. Macchiavellism ! 
 Were a digression allowable, I might discuss the 
 propriety of the opinion which couples Macchiavelli's 
 great name with that of deceit; yet the connection 
 being assumed, persons wholly ignorant of the writings 
 of the great Florentine, adopt the word, and fling 
 it as a standing reproach in the face of all Italians. 
 
 But, as my business here is only tp point out 
 some prominent characteristics of one of our most 
 remarkable statesmen, I will merely recommend a 
 more diligent perusal of Macchiavelli's works; and 
 repeat that, however the accusation originated, it 
 was D'Azeglio's task to destroy it by his uncom- 
 promising straightforwardness and honesty. What 
 he abhorred next to deceit was despotism ; and in 
 these pages he frequently gives vent to his feelings 
 on this score. The tyranny of Napoleon I., for 
 instance, was his bugbear. 
 
INTRODUCTION. Ixxxv 
 
 " Ten Wagrams and twenty Austerlitz," says he, 
 " do not efface one single act of tyranny." 
 
 Gifted with an artistic and poetical nature, he 
 foresaw a bright future of independence and liberty 
 for his country ; and, brought up in the sober aus- 
 tere Piedmontese school, he nobly made its reali- 
 sation the aim of his life, and never for one mo- 
 ment ceased to exert himself to rouse, to nerve 
 the Italian character, and prepare it for great en- 
 terprises. For, if he had the soul of an artist in 
 all that regards beauty and conception, and instinc- 
 tive horror of everything ungenerous and tyran- 
 niea], nobody entertained more practical views, or 
 outdid him in the pitiless war he waged equally 
 against the reactionists and the rabid demagogues. 
 He prides himself on being a democrat ; but " let 
 me be understood to mean," says he, "that truly 
 Christian democracy which makes every man equal 
 in the eye of the political, social, and civil, as well 
 as of the religious law." 
 
 There have been men who, either as soldiers, 
 writers, or statesmen, took a more brilliant share 
 in the liberation of Italy than Massimo d'Azeglio. 
 But he ranked above those who may have left a 
 more dazzling fame to posterity, by his moral supe- 
 riority, his manly spirit, and his freedom of mind 
 in prosperity as well as in adversity. 
 
 VOL. I. 9 
 
Ixxxvi INTRODUCTION. 
 
 He died but a few months before the liberation 
 of Venice, about which his staunch faith had never 
 allowed him to doubt, and the last word murmured 
 by his faltering lips was, Italy ! 
 
 The intelligence of his death reached London on 
 the 16th of January 1866. The Marquis d'Azeglio 
 had some days previously left the Italian legation, 
 to see once more his illustrious uncle, and I I'e- 
 mained in charge during the absence of my chief. 
 
 Lord Russell was then at the head of the govern- 
 ment; and I naturally had frequent opportunities 
 of seeing him, and witnessing the deep interest his 
 lordship evinced in the serious illness of Massimo 
 d'Azeglio, whom he had intimately known. 
 
 Lord Russell, I seize the occasion of remarldng, 
 shines conspicuously among those statesmen of Eng- 
 land to whom the cause of Italy has long been dear, 
 and to whose moral support the ItaHan peninsula is 
 greatly indebted. 
 
 Throughout his political career, Lord Russell has 
 always warmly supported our efforts to earn our 
 national redemption; and both in office and in 
 private life Italy has always found him a valuable 
 friend. 
 
 I therefore think I cannot better terminate this 
 short essay on the political life of the patriot who 
 wrote the Memoirs I have undertaken to translate, 
 
INTBODUCTION. IxxXVli 
 
 than by publishing the letter Lord Kussell addressed 
 to me in reply to my announcement of the catastrophe 
 that had just occurred at Turin. 
 
 " Deak Cotint Mapfei, — I was much concerned 
 to hear from you that the illness of Massimo d'Azeglio 
 had terminated fatally. 
 
 " Italy will mourn his loss as that of one of the 
 purest -of those patriots by whose talents, courage, and 
 foresight she has been raised to her due place among 
 the nations of Europe, and is no longer a geographical 
 expression, but a living, independent state. 
 
 " I have often had an opportunity of enjoying the 
 ' society of Massimo d'Azeglio, and of observing how, 
 in the midst of his great task, his uncommon powers 
 of mind and refined taste enabled him to excel in 
 literature and art, while he was working out the de- 
 liverance of his country. 
 
 " His parlar was not hke that of Petrarch, iWarno; 
 and while I lament over his death, I say with joy, 
 God speed Italy ! 
 
 " Yom's very truly, 
 
 " Dear Count Maffei, 
 
 " Kussell. 
 
 " Pembroke Lodge, Eiohmond Park, 
 " Jan. 18th, 1866." 
 
 I am greatly mistaken if beyond the Alps, and in 
 ■ England where Italy has so many sympathisers, this 
 
Ixxxviii INTEODUCTION. 
 
 letter, so honourable to both countries, be not read 
 with much interest; for in few lines it evokes the 
 recollection of all the phases, hopes, and fears, and 
 ultimate triumph of that exciting Italian struggle 
 ended but the other day, and which many in this 
 wonderful age of ours may look upon as almost a 
 thing of the past, although a world-wide religious 
 drama enacted at Rome has not yet attained its ter- 
 mination. 
 
 A. MAi'FEI. 
 London, March 25th, 1868. 
 
MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 OEIGIKr AND OBJECT OF THE WOKK. 
 
 For several years I have been thinking of writing 
 the story of my hfe. But no sooner does this idea, 
 or rather this aspiration, present itself to my mind, 
 than a thousand doubts arise to hamper and cheek 
 it. Is my life worth being told? Why do I feel 
 any desire to relate it ? Am I moved by a praise- 
 worthy motive, or is this a snare laid for me by a 
 vulgar and indiscreet vanity? The entreaties of 
 friends are always at hand to silence such doubts. 
 But, to be just, I must not accuse them of having 
 used over-much persuasion in this matter; besides, 
 I think that in similar cases it wordd be more to 
 the purpose if one could discover what enemies think. 
 Therefore I let this argument drop. 
 
 VOL. r. B 
 
2 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 The following are the motives which determined 
 me to write : 
 
 I have lived to my present age of sixty-fom- 
 without any breathing-time — I may say, without 
 ever having had leisure to look behind me. It is 
 now time to cast a glance backwards. It is a morally 
 wholesome practice to submit the acts of youth and 
 early manhood to the cold and sober judgment of 
 mature age. And if this process of arraigning our- 
 selves, as it were, be usefiil to us, why should it not 
 be equally so to others, provided the judge be just, 
 clear-sighted, and sincere? It remains to be seen 
 whether / shall prove such a judge. Without utter- 
 ing a too presumptuous yes, I content myself with 
 saying that I hope I may, and that I shall do my 
 best. As a first proof of my sincerity and can- 
 dour, I may as weU give one hint to the reader. If 
 I speak iU of myself, let him blindly believe me ; 
 but if I indulge in self-praise, he had better be on 
 his guard. Now, in order to render my work use- 
 ful to the public, and more especially to the younger 
 generation, I mean to divide and classify its contents 
 as follows. My object is to make a moral and psy- 
 chological study of myself, rather than to relate the 
 adventures that have befallen me ; I shall endeavour 
 to analyse and describe my own nature and my 
 character in all its successive phases ; recounting as 
 
ORIGIN AND OBJECT OP THE WOEK. 3 
 
 I go on the inward or outward causes which may 
 have modified it for good or for evil. If I am not 
 mistaken, this kind of moral autopsy will be far from 
 useless, both to those who educate others, and to such 
 as think it the duty of every man to strive after 
 self-improvement up to the very last day of his life. 
 
 But it will not be enough to examine myself, and 
 endeavour to draw useful precepts from the study : I 
 hope to be able to offer to those who will read these 
 pages much better material than that of which I my- 
 self am made. It has been my lot in life to asso- 
 ciate with a great many people ; it has also been my 
 good luck to find among them some men of first-rate 
 merit, of great intellect, noble hearts, and characters 
 far above the average. With their moral portraits I 
 hope to make a gallery rich in noble models. Would 
 to God it might produce another equally rich — that of 
 their imitators ! In my long career I have met with 
 natures of true heroic stamp. But let me be well 
 understood on this point. I call those heroes who 
 sacrifice themselves for others, not those who sacri- 
 fice others to themselves. I shall therefore have no 
 occasion to set forth any types even vaguely resem- 
 bling those great tormentors of om: species, admired 
 and adored by the latter in exact proportion to the 
 evil perpetrated by them. No ! My heroes, most of 
 them unknown, all victims, not one an executioner, 
 
4 MY KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 belong to every class of society. For, thank heaven, 
 if humanity is not such as it ought to be, neither 
 is it composed altogether of fools or of knaves, as the 
 Heracleites of every age are wont to believe. But 
 in this I have enjoyed peculiar good fortune. 
 
 To find sublime natures, worthy of being brought 
 to light as perfect models of noble sacrifice and 
 blameless life, I need not go beyond the circle of my 
 own family ; nor do I know how better to begin this 
 critical study of many lives, among which mine is as 
 a chain to connect my recollections of more worthy 
 existences, than by some account of my father and 
 mother. I should like to inscribe their names upon 
 some monument far more durable and illustrious than 
 these humble pages, which I dedicate to their dear 
 and honoured memory ; but more than this is be- 
 yond my power. 
 
 I am well aware that the reader will not be able 
 wholly to share my feehngs, but I will not weaken 
 their expression on that account. In so doing I 
 should be false to both heart and conscience ; I should 
 break the law of telling the truth, which I have laid 
 down for myself. It would almost seem to me as if 
 I abjured the veneration I profess for those who gave 
 me being, and, what is far more precious, all the 
 little good that may be found in me, and who never 
 let me see an act or hear a word that did not present 
 
OEIGm AND OBJECT OF THE WOEK. 5 
 
 a virtuous example. Can auy man of feeling reproacli 
 me for these sentiments ? 
 
 Another warning : I should not like this to be a 
 political or ephemeral work ; and if I succeed in 
 carrying out my ideas, it shall not be either. I 
 know how difficult it is for a writer not to be more 
 or less imbued with the thoughts of his own time. 
 One may even say that it is impossible, and perhaps 
 undesirable, quite to efface their influence. But as, 
 in my political life I have always striven to find out 
 and follow exclusively that which was true and just, 
 without party spirit, or caring whether I encountered 
 praise or blame ; as I have the inveterate habit of 
 judging men by their individual qualities, without 
 considering whether they belong to this or that party 
 (and, on this account, I have succeeded in becoming 
 obnoxious to aU) ; as, when in office, I did my best 
 to discover and propound the elementary laws which 
 serve to found and promote the prosperity of nations, 
 without troubling myself about interests, petty pas- 
 sions, or mean details, — I almost hope to attain my 
 aim, and leave to fiiture generations some pages 
 which may be read without tedium, and not entirely 
 without profit, even in circumstances and times very 
 different from our own. I should, however, like 
 these pages to be serviceable to the present age in 
 one sense. I will explain myself 
 
MT KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 For nearly half a century Italy has been strug- 
 gling and labouring to become one people and make 
 herself a nation. She has reconquered great part of 
 her own territory. The struggle with the foreigner 
 has already proved successful; but this is not the 
 difficulty. The greatest and the real one, that which 
 keeps everything uncertain and in jeopardy, is the 
 internal conflict. The most dangerous enemies of 
 Italy are not the Austrians, but the Italians. And 
 why ? Because the Italians have been intent to 
 create a new Italy, whilst they themselves remained 
 the same as of yore, with the deficiencies and the 
 moral littleness which have been their inheritance 
 ab antiquo ; because they are thinking of reforming 
 Italy, and none of them are aware that they must 
 begin by reforming themselves ; because Italy, like 
 all other countries, will never be able to become a 
 nation, well ordered, well administered, strong against 
 foreigners as well as against internal agitators, free, 
 and with a right of her own, until every Italian, high 
 and low, does his duty, each in his own sphere, and 
 does it well, or at least to the utmost of his ability. 
 But to do one's own duty, generally a tiresome, vul- 
 gar, and obscure one, requires strength of will, and 
 the belief that duty must be done, not because it is 
 a pleasant or profitable task, but simply because it is 
 duty ; and this strength of will, this conviction, con- 
 
ORIGIN AST) OBJECT OF THE -WORK. 7 
 
 stitutes, in fact, that precious quality which, in a 
 word, is called character: so that we may say, the 
 first want of Italy is, that Italians should grow up 
 gifted with high and strong characters. But, alas, 
 we tend towards the opposite pole ! Italy is made, 
 but not the Italians. 
 
 Now, if the topics, the narratives, the examples 
 contained in this book could have the effect of con- 
 tributing to produce one single great character, I 
 consider that I should have rendered a real service 
 to my country. If it be true, as the saying goes, 
 that one fool makes many (and we see many illustra- 
 tions of this every day), it is just as true that one 
 great and strong character also creates a hundred or 
 even a thousand others, and imparts life, colour, and, 
 so to speak, a more wholesome and generous tone to 
 a whole community for years to come. 
 
 I must now make knovm the last motive which 
 instigated me to write these volumes; albeit, cer- 
 tainly, the least important, as it is entirely a personal 
 one. T must, therefore, invoke all the indulgence of 
 the reader in its favour. In all probability my family 
 is about to become extinct, and I am far from reckon- 
 ing this fact among the calamities of the State. On 
 the contrary, truth to say, in our own private in- 
 terest, I had rather see it end now with honour, the 
 last three generations (this I may frankly affirm), 
 
8 MY KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 having numbered none but honest and honourable 
 men, than run the risk of its dying out at a more 
 distant period in the person of some silly marchesino, 
 as might very well happen, or perhaps worse. Dante 
 says in his Purgatory, 
 
 "0 Ugolin de' Fantolin, seouro 
 
 E' il nome tuo, da ohe piil non s' aspetta 
 CM far lo possa, tralignando, oscuro." 
 
 " Hugolin, 
 Thou sprung of Fantolini's line, thy name 
 Is safe ; since none is look'd for after thee 
 To cloud its lustre, warping from thy stock."* 
 
 These lines show that when I feel thus, it is in good 
 company. Nevertheless, it is in human nature to 
 shrink from destruction and still -more from obli- 
 vion. I could not bear the thought that in a country 
 which I have loved so dearly, and which has been so 
 well loved and served by my kinsmen, a few years 
 hence we should be forgotten, as though we had 
 never been. It is therefore my intention to make 
 this work a narrative of my life, and of the actions 
 of the distinguished people to whom I belonged by 
 family ties, or with whom I have associated ; and 
 
 * The Divine Comedy, translated by the Bev. H. F. Gary, M.A. 
 London, 1850. Hugolin Fantolini was a virtuous gentleman of 
 an ancient and honourable family of Faenza, who, probably on 
 account of his age, was not likely to leave any issue. I have 
 availed myself of the above beautiful and accurate translation 
 for all the quotations from Dante in these memoirs. 
 
OEIGra AKD OBJECT OF THE WORK. 9 
 
 also to weave into it a brief memorial of our house, 
 to prevent its memory being suddenly extinguisbed 
 in the hearts of my countrymen. I feel but too well 
 that I am not one of those swans whom Ariosto de- 
 scribes as alone able to rescue the names of the 
 deserving few from the waves of oblivion. But why 
 might I not obtain that which I am unable to win 
 for myself, from the kindness which I have foimd 
 in so many of my contemporaries, and which may 
 become — I hope it wUl — a tradition among their sons 
 and successors ? 
 
 Having thus explained the spirit of my work, I 
 may be allowed to say a few words about its style. 
 In my description of myself I must appear just as 
 I am. I must be nothing but myself, not anyone 
 else. To attain this end I must therefore not only 
 relate facts with scrupulous accuracy, and unveil 
 my thoughts and opinions ; but it is also necessary 
 that I should use the manners, the phrases, the 
 words, the idioms which are habitual to me, and 
 which spriag from my own individuality, character, 
 and habits. I think that, in order to write well, 
 one should express oneself as one would speak in 
 genial and refined society, composed of respectable 
 men and well-bred women. It is enough to abstain 
 from a few colloquial or trivial forms, which a little 
 tact suffices to point out ; every thing else may, and 
 
10 MT EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 indeed should, be said frankly, in the same style and 
 the same words as are employed in conversation. If 
 this rule were to be adopted in Italy; if a number of 
 authors did not deem themselves obliged to change 
 their language when they are writing; if (I beg 
 leave to use a rather bold expression) they put the 
 pen into their mouth instead of holding it in their 
 hand, — the reading of Italian books would no longer 
 be that ungrateful, not to say almost impossible task 
 which it unhappily is at present for ourselves, and still 
 more for foreigners. And see how true this is ! Italy 
 is one of the countries where fluent and elegant 
 speakers most abound, and where likewise unreadable 
 writers are most rife. For God's sake let them write 
 as they would talli in good society, and they will be 
 read, as they are listened to, with great pleasure. 
 Let us analyse this matter a little, that we may un- 
 derstand it better. Supposing, for one moment, that 
 the above-mentioned genial company had time and 
 patience to listen to a verbal narrative of what is at 
 present in print ; should I ever dream of beginning 
 by saying : Here, ladies and gentlemen, is the title 
 of my book, Ricordi per Massimo clAzeglio ?* What ! 
 
 * In this passage the author alludes to the affected hahit, 
 adopted by some modern Italian writers, of placing before their 
 names on the title-page of their boolis the woidper (for) instead 
 of di (of), to indicate that the matter contained therein has 
 been written by them. For example, "Bicordi per Massimo 
 
OEIGIN AST> OBJECT OF THE WORK. 11 
 
 (some one woidd interrupt) — What! for you? It 
 would seem, on the contrary, that these memoirs are 
 for us who are listening, and when they go to press 
 they will be for the pubHc. Well, would not this 
 be quite true ? Therefore, on my title-page I have 
 written di, and not per, Massimo d'Azeglio. Now 
 let us also suppose my tale not to prove too tedious 
 to the listeners, and that some one should observe, it 
 would be well to pubhsh it ; would he say : Why 
 don't you dictate * these recollections of yours ? He 
 would certainly say : Why don't you write them ? 
 Otherwise I might answer : My eyes are not bad, nor 
 have I rheumatism in my fingers, and I can write 
 without dictating. It is very strange that some people 
 should imagine that elegance consists in a false and 
 equivocal affectation. If such were the fact, it would 
 indeed be easy to write elegantly. For this reason 
 I began my book by saying : I have long had the 
 thought of writing, not of dictating, my recollections. 
 My third remark is : in the aforesaid society, 
 if I were addressing a person with whom I did not 
 
 d'Azeglio," instead of " Kicordi di Massimo d'Azeglio." Though 
 in Italian these two words in the above instances have the same 
 signification, the first is so interpreted only in a figurative sense, 
 and sounds very affected. 
 
 * Here the author is ridiculing another affectation of some 
 Italian writers, who would think it is more elegant to say " Me- 
 niorie dettate" than " scritte da Massimo d'Azeglio." 
 
12 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 happen to be very intimate, I should not use the 
 pronoun tu* or wi ; and why ? Simply because it is 
 not the custom. Why, then, should I say iliou to 
 my reader ? I prefer addressing him as Id, in ac- 
 cordance with Italian usage. Whenever tu becomes 
 universal in society, I will address my reader in 
 like manner. 
 
 These examples will suffice to illustrate my 
 idea, which is in substance as foUows : To use 
 common words according to their natural meaning ; 
 to avoid aU stilted expressions, all ambiguities how- 
 ever small ; to eschew transpositions ; so to express 
 myself, in fact, that the reader may understand 
 thoroughly and at once, nay more, to make it im- 
 possible for him to hesitate, even an instant, as to 
 the real meaning of what he is reading. 
 
 Now one last remark. Since the French have 
 invented what they call '■'■Vliomme shieux;'"' since 
 babies smoke, youngsters of eighteen despise danc- 
 ing, men of thirty marry dowries, and girls of 
 fifteen millionaires of fifty ; since, finally, the three 
 most obnoxious of the seven mortal sins, pride, euAy, 
 and avarice, have become predominant over the re- 
 maining fom-, — in every language, more or less, a 
 
 * This again ia a protest against a very general affectation of 
 addressing the reader in the second person singular, which in 
 Italian is only used between relations, intimate friends, or from 
 a superior to an inferior. 
 
ORIGIN AND OBJECT OF THE 'WOEK. 1 3 
 
 dictatorial, pedantic, ponderous, melancholy style has 
 sprung up, false, affected, and tedious in form, and 
 which accordingly I intend to avoid. Whenever a 
 question arises, it is in my nature to rush in thought 
 to the consideration of aU its aspects and of all its 
 consequences. I often perceive a laughable side in 
 serious things, just as I at once detect the serious 
 point lurking under frivolities. Such am I, and such 
 shall I appear in my book. Life, thank God, is not 
 always sad or tragic; it is gay sometimes, and at 
 others has a comical seriousness, which last is the 
 ne plus ultra of absurdity. Having to describe one or 
 more lives, why should I limit myself to the repre- 
 sentation of one of its aspects only, instead of paint- 
 ing all those which it alternately assumes in reality ? 
 I shall therefore let myself be guided by the subjects 
 which occur to me ; and if reflections and instruction 
 flow naturally from them, why should I refrain fi'om 
 giving them utterance ? Being desirous of impress- 
 ing them on the minds of the young generation, is 
 it better to collect them into an ex professo treatise? 
 or may it not be preferable to spread them over a 
 narrative in which the author does not always keep 
 up a monotonous seriousness, .but condescends to 
 laugh when there is something to laugh at? 
 
 1865. M. D'AZEGLIO. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 " Qv^sim justitiam, et odivi ini^uitatem, propterea . . ." 
 
 Ignorance of family traditions — Wise reply of my father — Anti- 
 pathy to the famUy name — Opportunity of learning its history 
 — Originally from Brittany — The Breuier Capels — they re- 
 move to Dauphiny — one of them settles at Savigliano — An- 
 other version of Monsignor della Chiesa — Queen Joan invests 
 the house of Taparelli with the fief of Genola — Purchase of 
 Lagnasco — Brenier, a man-at-arms, acknowledges us (six- 
 teenth century) — My grandfather the Count of Lagnasco — 
 his portrait — Eccentric reputation of the family — Remedy for 
 court deceptions used by my grandfather — his death — Gesare 
 my father — Cristina my mother — Doubt whether I ought to 
 write about her — Portrait of my father — his birth and enlist- 
 ment — Garrison life — Manners of the superiors of that date — 
 his early life — he enters the king's household — ^Society at 
 that period — Aristocracy — its faults; its merits — Conse- 
 quences — Conversion — State of opinion — The cause of his 
 change — Eefleotions, 
 
 Until three months ago I knew nothing of my an- 
 cestry beyond a few details heard now and then from 
 an old servant of the family. Not a word on this 
 subject ever fell from the lips of my father or mother. 
 I remember once, during my childhood (I might 
 then, perhaps, have been twelve years old), all the 
 
16 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 family and a few friends being one day assembled, 
 the coiaversation happened to turn on the subject 
 of nobility. Thoughtlessly I asked my father, " Are 
 we noble, signor padreV I soon perceived that I 
 had asked a silly question, as everyone began to 
 laugh at me, and my father, smiling like the rest, 
 answered, " My child, you will be noble if you are 
 virtuous."* After this I inquired no farther. I 
 asked no more questions for a long time. Neverthe- 
 less — I know not why — I have always had a dis- 
 like to our name of Taparelli, and have always called 
 and signed myself Azeglio. 
 
 It is now three months, since, on the sad occasion 
 of the death of my eldest brother Roberto, I had to 
 examine some family papers and documents, and 
 was thus enabled to carry my archseological re- 
 searches concerning the history of my house farther 
 back than my grandfather, beyond which point I 
 had never before been able to reach. I then learnt 
 the following facts : 
 
 Our race is of Breton origin. This will perhaps 
 account for the leaven of stubbornness prevailing in 
 our family to this day. Old chronicles speak of a 
 family and of a castle in Brittany, both named 
 
 * This reminds us of a favourite maxim of one of our good 
 old priuces of the House of Savoy, Charles Emanuel 11,, who 
 used to say that "dignities and honours without virtues were 
 
FAMILY TBADITIONS. 17 
 
 Brenier Chapel or Capel, and upon the walls of the 
 latter were sculptured coats of arms identical with 
 those always borne by our house. This castle was 
 destroyed, and the family disappeared ; but years 
 afterwards it was to be found transplanted to Dau- 
 phiny ; and several documents existing in the ar- 
 chives of Grenoble prove it to have settled in that 
 part of France. When Charles of Anjou crossed 
 the Alps to conquer Naples, or perhaps earlier, a 
 member of the family came to Italy, and, though I 
 am unable to state how or why, it is proved that he 
 established himself at Savigliano, where he married. 
 Among his descendants we find one Giorgio, who, 
 heaven knows how, from Chapel or Capel became 
 Taparel. He and his sons are identified by docu- 
 ments, and are the first reaUy historical persons of 
 the family. The earlier portion of the history I re- 
 late as I have found it. Whoever is incredulous 
 may search and see for himself. 
 
 Monsignor Agostino della Chiesa gives a differ- 
 ent version ia his history of Piedmont, and says (for 
 brevity I give the substance only), the Taparellis 
 are a very ancient Guelph family of Savigliano. As 
 early as 1240 Guglielmo and Odone are mentioned 
 with their sons, in the veUum volume containing 
 the charter of the people of that town, as possessors 
 of mills and other machines moved by water, of 
 
 VOL. I. C 
 
18 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 rights of fisheries, and also of lands and hamlets in 
 the aforesaid district. 
 
 At this stage the Giorgio of the other version 
 reappears. Monsignor della Chiesa adds, that one 
 Rupert di Leonardo, seneschal and captain-general 
 of Queen Joan, being at Cuneo, invested the sons 
 of Giorgio, Giofiredo, Leone, and Pietro TapareUi, 
 of Savigliano, with the fief of Genola, in recompense 
 of the many services rendered by their family to the 
 queen, with the right of building a castle thereon, 
 as a defence against the enemies of the House of 
 Anjou. 
 
 A few years previously (1341) the family had 
 become possessed of Lagnasco, a 6ef sold for 25,000 
 golden florins to Giofiredo TapareUi and Pietro Fal- 
 letti of Alba, by Tommaso Marquis of Saluzzo, for 
 the purpose of raising the ransom of 80,000 florins, 
 imposed upon him by his uncles, who, assisted by 
 Bertrando del Balzo, seneschal of Charles IL of 
 Anjou, and other allies, had taken him prisoner and 
 deprived him of his principality. 
 
 From that time to the present our family have 
 always retained possession of these castles of Lag- 
 nasco and of Genola. As our family history, though 
 of ancient date, is not remarkable for famous deeds, 
 or for those historical names which might render 
 the details of interest or importance, I spare both 
 
I AM A BAEBAEIAN ! 19 
 
 myself and the reader any further remarks on this 
 subject ; and will only add, that the two versions re- 
 specting our origin may, I think, be reconciled, as, 
 before being Guelphs in SavigKano, our ancestors 
 most probably came from France with one of those 
 but too numerous northern hordes that have de- 
 scended into Italy. We have positive mention of a 
 Brenier, a man-at-arms in the company of M. de 
 Termes, who came to Savigliano during the wars 
 between France and the Empire. 
 
 M. de Monlue mentions that he belonged to the 
 garrison which then occupied Savigliano ; and I find 
 that the said gentleman, seeing his own armorial 
 bearings in our house, inquired our origin, and, 
 being informed of it, recognised us as kinsmen. To 
 ascertain with greater certainty, he asked the name 
 of otir special patron saint, and being told " St. Mary 
 Magdalen," he said that in his own family also she 
 was the most honoured of aU. It seems unhkely 
 that this should be the result of mere coincidence ; 
 yet, should the French knight have conjectured 
 rightly, it would foUow that after having so often 
 cried Fuori il harharo! I am discovered to be a 
 barbarian myself !* 
 
 * The name of " barbarians" having been constantly applied 
 to the foreign invaders of Italy, — GiambuUari, in his Sistory of 
 Ewrope, calls the Alpine passes in Friuli the " usual road of the 
 lariarians, ... a fatal passage left open by nature in punishment 
 
20 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Instead of writing the history of a series of ob-^ 
 scure lordlings, whose private adventures would doubt- 
 less be far from edifying, I wiU simply relate a few 
 anecdotes which I have gleaned from among the old 
 family papers. They are more or less interesting, 
 inasmuch as they belong not only to the Taparelli 
 family, but to the still older one of Adam, whose 
 posterity affords inexhaustible materials for study. 
 
 My grandfather, the Count Roberto of Lagnasco, 
 married Cristina Countess of Genola, the offspring 
 of another branch of our own family. They had two 
 sons : one, the Marquis of Montenera, died young 
 through a fall ; the other, called Cesare, was my 
 father. A few days after his birth his mother died. 
 Several years later, Count Roberto married Matilde 
 Caissotti, of Casal Grrasso, by whom he had an only 
 daughter, afterwards the wife of Count Prospero 
 Balbo, the father of Cesare, the celebrated author, 
 my first cousin, and the dearest and most esteemed 
 of all my friends. Of my grandfather I know only 
 the little I heard from my father. He was a very 
 clever man, but he was not without a dash of that 
 
 of Italy's past sins," — the cry of " Fiwri il harharo /" has been 
 handed down from one generation to another. It resounded as 
 heartily as ever in all the popular demonstrations of late years, 
 and was the rallying cry of the masses in every insurrection up 
 to the moment of our liberation. 
 
HERBDITAKT ECCBNTEICITT. 21 
 
 eccentricity in wliicli all our family are said more or 
 less to share. In old Piedmont I must confess that 
 the TapareUis enjoyed the reputation of being some- 
 what touched in the upper story. Without dis- 
 cussing the why or the wherefore of the subject, I 
 must nevertheless observe that in old Piedmont, so 
 full of good and sterling qualities, one often met 
 with that conservative tenacity, that love of tradi- 
 tion, that dislike of innovation, which characterise 
 those vigorous races, capable of maintaining them- 
 selves for a lengthened period. Every innovation, 
 no matter how insignificant, displeases the majority, 
 and is rejected without further consideration as a 
 pazzia. Thus, for instance, my grandfather was 
 very familiar with the English language and litera- 
 ture. I think I hear his friends saying among them- 
 selves, "Very odd that Count Lagnasco, with his 
 English !" After this would speedily foUow the con- 
 clusion, " All the TapareUis have more or less a bee in 
 their bonnet." I know but too well (as I shall after- 
 wards relate) that for having early attempted to be 
 something different from the marchesini of my time, 
 I was unanimously voted mad. 
 
 However this may be, my grandfather entered 
 the army, according to the ancient custom of my 
 family. He afterwards lived at court, and was the 
 friend of King Victor, — so far as it is possible to be 
 
22 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 the friend of a king. Although a courtier, he was 
 reputed an honest man ; and as in that position none 
 have suificient strength or wisdom to avoid all danger 
 of disgrace, or the risk of frequent mortification, 
 my grandfather chose to be forearmed, and in a 
 conspicuous place in his study these words were 
 inscribed in Piedmontese, " Ai fa pa nen" or in 
 plain language, " It matters not in the least." The 
 meaning in that dialect is still more sarcastic, and 
 may be rendered, " I don't care a straw." Thus, 
 when he returned from court, his temper embittered 
 perhaps by some intrigues against him, his eyes 
 would alight on the above inscription, and shrugging 
 his shoulders he would dine with his usual appetite. 
 All this I learnt from Cesare Balbo. My grandfather 
 died at fifty-seven, while occupied with the marriage 
 of his only remaining son. The earliest arrange- 
 ments for the latter were already completed. In all 
 that concerns my father's history I possess the safest, 
 the most precious of guides : I have now before me a 
 manuscript by my mother, in which she relates his life. 
 I cannot conceal from the reader, that, now that 
 the time has arrived to speak of her, to describe the 
 events of her life, to quote her words, and draw aside 
 the veil in which she so carefully shrouded herself, 
 her actions, and her virtues from the eyes of the world, 
 an undefinable hesitation stays my hand. Shall T 
 
MT MOTHER. 23 
 
 not be guiliy of profanation ? What though I have 
 nought to disclose but as divine a beauty as ever 
 adorned a human soul, is there not an instinct in 
 every filial heart which says : The life of a mother, 
 and even the memory and praise of her virtues, 
 should be strictly confined to the domestic hearth; 
 they should be written in the hearts of her sons 
 and grandsons, and there remain as a hidden family 
 treasure, not to be flung into the great current of 
 publicity to indifferent strangers and lookers-on ? I 
 feel within myself this instinct, and yet I am re- 
 solved to disregard it. I yield to the temptation 
 of portraying the beloved features of that noble 
 figure, endowed with so much feminine grace, such 
 true candour, so rare a beauty, and (as we have yet 
 to see) a fortitude beyond her sex. For five-and- 
 twenty years she has slept by the side of my father 
 at Genoa, in the humble church of the Capucliins ; 
 she belongs to the past ; may not therefore this cir- 
 cumstance modify the severity of certain principles? 
 Can it be just or rightfal that no noble examples of 
 feminine virtue should ever be held up to posterity ? 
 To whom, if not to the mother, has heaven intrusted 
 the mission of imprinting the first and indelible traces 
 on the character of man? and ought she to remain 
 forgotten who so truly possessed the wisdom which 
 trains up generations of vigorous men, and hence 
 
24 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 illustrious epochs — when the first want of Italy is 
 men, and those who are fit to educate and render 
 them strong and generous in heart and mind? 
 Moreover, have I a right to deprive my children of 
 their most precious inheritance — that of noble and 
 virtuous examples ? 
 
 Decided by these reflections, I shall proceed. 
 But first of all, a few words to portray my father. 
 I quote the manuscript : "A young man of very 
 handsome appearance, courteous in manner, full of 
 talent and vivacity (yet very dignified), with a 
 highly cultivated mind, a good musician," &c. So 
 far my mother. To complete this likeness, I may 
 be permitted to add, that he was considered one 
 of the best soldiers of our army ; a man of severe 
 principles, and at the same time of immense good- 
 ness of heart ; one who would have given his life to 
 spare his family a sorrow, bnt who would have also 
 seen it sacrificed before his eyes rather than betray 
 either duty or honour. A nature like his would 
 have died with Regulus in one age, in another with 
 the martyrs torn by lions in the circus while confess- 
 ing the faith of Christ. 
 
 The existence within him of the often conflicting 
 senses of duty and love rendered his life an inces- 
 sant warfare between the two. Perpetually mis- 
 trusting his own heart, always on his guard against 
 
ARISTOCRATIC ENLISTMENT. 25 
 
 yielding to acts of weakness, he sometimes fell 
 into the opposite error, and became rigid and aus- 
 tere. In oTir childhood he inspired us with an 
 almost incredible fear; and fear too often prevents 
 an impartial judgment. It will ever be a subject of 
 the most painful regret that I should only know and 
 appreciate him as he deserves, now that he is no 
 longer in the world. How much we lose through 
 mistakes like these ! and how important to endeavour 
 to avoid them ! 
 
 He was born on the 10th of February 1763. At 
 eleven years of age his father presented him to the 
 magistrate who presided over the then existing uffizio 
 del soldo* and administered that objectionable volun- 
 tary enlistment which gave such celebrity to the so- 
 called recruteur, and which, thank heaven (though 
 the English and the Americans think otherwise), has 
 been superseded by conscription. 
 
 Notwithstanding the privileges of the aristocracy, 
 so warKke a spirit had been instilled by the old 
 monarchy of Savoy — ^having always been built on 
 a military basis — that it was not considered de- 
 
 * In Piedmont at that time custom required every noble to 
 enlist in the royal army when a mere child ; and for this purpose 
 they went to the uffizio del soldo (an office established as far back 
 as the year 1688) to receive a day's pay, which constituted an 
 engagement similar to that represented by the shilling which the 
 enrolling sergeant gives to a new recruit in England. 
 
26 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 grading to become a private in the ranks.* Every 
 one concurred in the idea, that notwithstanding the 
 difference in mihtary rank, the honour of a common 
 soldier was on a level with that of the first general 
 and of the king himself. 
 
 For this reason, the curious phenomenon of a 
 baby carried by his nurse and wearing the insignia 
 of a major or a colonel was unknown among us. 
 
 It is, however, true, that though our nobles 
 entered the army by the common door, they after- 
 wards found their way through a privileged passage. 
 They soon became cadets, then officers; and the 
 substantial difference consisted in this. 
 
 My father, successively a private, a cadet, and 
 an officer in the regiment of the " Queen's Own," 
 lived a garrison life, and was stationed lastly at 
 Oagliari. He was a great favourite with his colonel 
 and other superiors, "who" (I refer to the manu- 
 script) " at that time acted the part of fathers to their 
 young officers, inspiring them with the precepts of 
 true honour, founded on allegiance to God and the 
 sovereign, in probity and high principle towards each 
 
 * Nor has the Piedmontese nobility lost this gallant tradi- 
 tion ; for in the late wars not only did its sons fight in the ranks, 
 when by chance they had not already a higher grade, but the 
 example they thus set was so effieotnal, that both in 1859 and 
 1866 the representatives of all the best families of Italy volun- 
 tarily enlisted as privates in the national army. 
 
HONOUE WAS OUE MOTTO ! 27 
 
 other. This was the universal spirit of the Pied- 
 montese aristocracy, who served under their king's 
 flag almost to a man. Their pay was very scanty, — 
 that of the courtiers more scanty still ; so much so, 
 that it hardly sufficed for the gratuities customary at 
 court. Honour was our great motto." To this the 
 princes contributed by respecting that of their nobles, 
 only demanding their services when absolutely re- 
 quired. 
 
 From eleven to seventeen my father instructed 
 himself, and acquired great knowledge of military 
 matters ; and my mother writes : " This was the 
 most unhappy time of his life (so he would say 
 himself) ; because in those yeai's of ardent youth 
 and fervid passion he lived the wild life of his age." 
 
 At seventeen he was appointed equerry to the 
 Duke of Aosta, son of King Victor Emanuel ; and 
 this new duty recalled him to Turin. Here the 
 manuscript speaks in the following terms of the 
 young man, already accustomed to pass such severe 
 judgment on this period of his life: "He very soon 
 became intimate in the most select circles of society, 
 and was a favourite with many brilliant and talented 
 women ; he was also beloved by his family, and was 
 fuU of the tenderest afiection for aU its members." 
 
 Judging by aU this, his life at that time can 
 scarcely have been so very displeasing either to his 
 
28 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 family or to his friends — the best society of the 
 day. Strange society ! of which all traces and tra- 
 ditions have now vanished wholly ; and which, con- 
 sidering its faults and failings, I certainly should not 
 wish to see restored to life ; but which to us of the 
 present day, so far removed from its influence, so 
 utterly changed, ofiers many interesting reflections 
 and suggestive thoughts. 
 
 The Piedmontese nobihiy of the last century and 
 the beginning of the present were more haughty 
 in manner than tyrannical in spirit. You might 
 often, dear reader, encounter a person who was un- 
 failing in the observance of the strictest civility, who 
 said no word that could possibly give definite cause 
 of offence, yet whose whole manner betrayed such 
 a feeling of intense superiority, whose every look 
 and word said so plainly, " Stand aside ; I am some- 
 body, while you are nobody," — that feeling it alike 
 impossible either to resent or endure it, you would 
 make a speedy escape, and register a mental vow 
 never, if possible, to subject yourself to it again. 
 
 This was the impression produced by the nobility 
 of Piedmont, and thence resulted that division of 
 classes which has only now begun to disappear. 
 
 But with these faults it had also its redeeming 
 qualities, and continued active and energetic, while 
 the aristocracies of the rest pf Italy are faithfully 
 
PIEDMONTESE NOBLES. 29 
 
 portrayed in the Florindi and Rosaure of Groldoni. 
 And why this difference ? Because the Piedmontese 
 nobiHty were engaged in perpetual war (within the 
 last century alone Piedmont took part in three), and 
 because war exercises over nations a more salutary 
 influence than a long peace. Fidelity to a difEcult 
 and perilous duty educates men, and makes them 
 fit to perform more peaceful tasks well and worthily. 
 For instance AMeri, who teUs us he took the Grreek 
 grammar by storm, just as he would have mounted 
 a breach when a soldier. 
 
 A singular conclusion might be drawn from aU 
 this, — viz. that a nation, in order to preserve those 
 virtues which save it from decay, is necessarily obhged 
 to kiU a certain number of its neighbours every now 
 and then. I leave the reader to meditate on this 
 question, and intend to study it myself one day. 
 Meanwhile let us proceed. 
 
 At the age of twenty -four my father passed 
 through one of those moral revolutions which alter 
 and renew a man, but which are only possible in 
 upright, strong, and impassioned natures. 
 
 At that time there everywhere prevailed — ^chiefly, 
 however, in France — a general rage of destruction 
 against the old world, which made many people 
 believe that a new chaos was approaching, but which 
 has led us, through horrible evils it is true, to the 
 
30 MT KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 discovery, to use a biblical expression, of " coslum 
 novum et terrain novam." 
 
 Italy is the old land of doubt. The Eeformation 
 had little hold upon her; not so much because the 
 Roman Inquisition kept it in check, but because Italy 
 cared little for Rome, and still less for Wittemberg. 
 It is not in our natures to beheve more than the 
 priests themselves ; and facts have always shown that 
 the priests of Rome believe very little. The Italians, 
 therefore, have never considered dogmatic questions 
 very seriously ; and the " Chi sa se ^ vera ?" — " Who 
 knows if it be true ?" (a mournful question for hu- 
 manity) has always prevailed among us since the 
 days of Guide Cavalcanti. For this reason Italy was 
 an indifferent spectator of the conflict between Rome 
 and Wittemberg, with little regard for either. But 
 the doubts, the derisive sarcasms of Voltaire, were 
 more to her taste ; and she smiled on French scep- 
 ticism as on an " old and familiar friend," — at least 
 it was thus in the rest of Italy ; in Piedmont things 
 were different. 
 
 In spile of a few recent innovators, the old popu- 
 lar faith remained unshaken on its ancient pedestal. 
 Even now, after the many storms that have swept 
 over this poor country, its traditional character is 
 still almost unchanged ; we can imagine, then, what 
 it must have been when it had scarcely emerged from 
 
A CONVERSION. 31 
 
 the influences of the middle ages. The rehgious feel- 
 ing was generaUj deep and genuine ; and the Catho- 
 lic faith reckoned among its opponents a greater 
 number of e^dl-doers than of real unbelievers. 
 
 During the Lent of 1784 a monk preached in the 
 church of San Giovanni, who, according to the manu- 
 script, was either Father Denobili or Father Casati. 
 My father heard him, and was firmly convinced that 
 it was his duty to change his life. As we have said, 
 the discovery of a duty and its fulfilment at any cost 
 were one and the same thing for him. Suddenly, 
 without regarding the criticisms or sneers of others, 
 and perhaps the reproaches and pangs of his own 
 heart, he surrendered himself unreservedly to the 
 assiduous observance of the Catholic faith, its wor- 
 ship and principles in all their minutest application ; 
 nor did he swerve from them from that time up to 
 the last day of his life. In a nature so resolute, so 
 incapable of hesitation in anything, faith was speedily 
 transformed into a profound and absolute certainty. 
 He thus secured for himself the highest solace in the 
 bitter vicissitudes which awaited him, — that of be- 
 lieving that for the true Christian the evils of this 
 life are but the coin which purchase the eternal 
 happiness of the next. Happy he who feels sure in 
 himself of so rich a bargain! But, unfortunately, 
 aspirations and wishes do not suffice to create belief. 
 
32 MY BECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 I Man brieves what he can, and not what he wills ; 
 and God, who knows this, will not ask impossibilities 
 as men do, nor be cruel like them. 
 
 The word conversion sounds to us nowadays almost 
 like a relic of some holy legend. When do we now 
 hear of or see one of those world-famed conversions 
 which are recorded by St. Francis, St. Benedict, St. 
 Jerome, and others? Religious excitement is often 
 to be foimd in the Anglo-Saxon and German races. 
 Among them a conversion is a common occurrence. 
 Every seer, be he rogue or fanatic, soon finds a 
 devout crowd ready to make sacrifices and endure 
 privations for his dogma. Now if one of them came 
 to Italy and preached in the streets, he would have 
 the same auditors as gather round a mountebank, 
 who, the sermon over, would disperse, shrugging 
 their shoulders, and saying in Piedmontese, "A Va 
 ban temp ;" or in Italian, " He is a lunatic." 
 
 At first sight, we might say, perhaps, we are 
 wiser, because we are not so easily taken in ; but if 
 we analyse the question, what do we find ? We find 
 that the strongest, most moral, and most dominant 
 race is not the Latin, with aU its talent, but the 
 Anglo-Saxon. This proves that nations are formed 
 not by subtle wit {esprit), but by firm and austere 
 characters. It proves that something can be made 
 of people willing to die for their faith, even though 
 
DOUBT AND FAITH. 33 
 
 it be an unfounded or eccentric one; whereas if 
 people believe notbing, in tbe name of what, or 
 whom, can you induce, them to rouse themselves to 
 act or to die? Doubt is a great pretext for avoid- 
 ing labour ; I might almost call it the real parent of 
 the Italian " dolcefar niente." 
 
 Here, however, the ship strikes on the rock I 
 have already pointed out. Can a nation say, any 
 more than a man, " I will have faifJi" ? ■ and if it 
 cannot, who is to blame ? 
 
 I would fain not imitate those who at every difH- 
 culty, at every offence, seek cause of quarrel against 
 the priests and Eome. . Let us be indulgent to every 
 one, even to the priests. In the Middle Ages the 
 clergy were exposed to temptations so great, that to 
 resist them required perhaps superhuman strength, 
 — ^to hold the cross aloft, to have the power of trans- 
 forming it by one word into the sceptre of the world, 
 and to refrain from uttering that word ! Let him 
 who could have so refrained throw the first stone. 
 
 But indulgence has to be applied to individuals, 
 not to logic or historical truth ; and this repeats the 
 teaching of Machiavelli three centuries ago. The 
 spectacle of papal Rome has extinguished religion 
 in Italy ; and if it be true, as I think is beyond 
 doubt, that a nation without faith cannot be either 
 disciplined or strong (the Romans, the modern 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
34 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Anglo-Saxons, and we ourselves, alas, are the proof 
 of it), one must conclude tliat Italy will never be 
 really a nation tiU she is based on a religious prin- 
 ciple; and that if this is not to be secured or enforced 
 by decree or voluntary act, it may be developed 
 whenever the said principle shall disclose itself, not 
 as the instrument of material dominion (and that an 
 evil one), but as a beneficent emanation fi-om heaven. 
 The natural and final conclusion therefore is, that if 
 Eome, if Catholicism, does not reform itself; if the 
 priest does not succeed in proving that he believes 
 that which he teaches ; that he is convinced poverty 
 is not the worst of evils, nor wealth overmuch to be 
 coveted; that it is a good thing to be meek and 
 humble, and a bad one to be cruel and proud; 
 that charity and forgiveness are virtues, hatred and 
 vengeance crimes ; — until, I say, facts prove that he 
 beUeves all this, there is no hope of seeing among 
 Italians that true and sincere religious principle, 
 without which we shall always be, as we now are, 
 a nation of Httle nerve, less character, and no power 
 of assimilating our own national elements. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 Bad health — Anxiety of the doctor for our race — Alliance with 
 the House of Morozzo — Scrupulous sincerity of my father — 
 Establishment of the family — Number of children — Decay of 
 the cavalisri serventi system — Joke on matrimonial unions 
 &. la Tnode — TUness of my father — ^he leaves the court — Iso- 
 lation of Piedmont — Outbreak of war — My father aide-de- 
 camp to the commander-in-chief — My shameful ignorance — 
 Anecdote — Piedmontese proverb — He is made prisoner^Gal- 
 lantry of a young drummer — A new Pylades — his origin — 
 he contrives to be taken with my father — They are sent to 
 Montbrison — are obliged to ask alms — Generosity of a peasant 
 girl — Death of Eobespierre — Improved condition — Horrible 
 reaction — His wife and family believe my father dead — his 
 will — ^he refuses his release on condition of not bearing arms 
 against the Kepublic — The French government acknowledges 
 this act of loyalty — Reflections — Eeturn of my father — Re- 
 turn of Pylades — his death — Pylades and Alexander the 
 Great. 
 
 The conversion of my father made a great noise at 
 court and in society. But in the midst of youthftd 
 life and vigour his health began gradually to decline. 
 An iron will had, so to speak, seized hold of the 
 fleshly body, which collapsed and gave way in the 
 struggle. Seldom does anyone come forth unscathed 
 from battles between heart and wUl. After a few 
 months his family began to feel serious alarm on 
 
36 MT EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 finding that the health of their only remaining son 
 was becoming daily more and more impaired. He 
 was subjected to a long treatment, which, aided by- 
 youth, produced excellent results. But his consti- 
 tution had received a shock, and though the tem- 
 porary illness was subdued, his former health and 
 vigour did not return. My father was never again 
 really robust. 
 
 The extinction of a noble race was not then con- 
 templated as philosophically as I, for instance, now 
 foresee that of my own, without losing either sleep 
 or appetite on that account. The doctors, questioned 
 by my grandfather, answered in a very matter-of- 
 fact way, that the Marquis Cesare being now the 
 only son, it would be well for him to marry at 
 once, in order to propagate tlie race. My father 
 afterwards told me this anecdote, and was much 
 diverted at the good doctor having put him in the 
 same category as a King Charles's spaniel, or a 
 thoroughbred horse. 
 
 It was thereupon decided that a wife should be 
 fomid for him ; and Cristina, daughter of the Mar- 
 quis Morozzo of Bianze, appearing a suitable match, 
 proposals were made to her parents, who accepted 
 them, and the alUance was concluded. 
 
 My mother, who was afterwards never tired of 
 expatiating on the exquisite sensibility of her hus- 
 
COURTSHIP. 37 
 
 band, used to tell me that on his first visit to his 
 intended bride, my father, instead of being well got- 
 up and elegantly dressed, as is customary on such 
 occasions, in order to prevent any iUlisions, actually 
 strove to present himself in the neghgent attire a 
 husband might habitually wear at home (everyone 
 knows the awkward sort of dress then in fashion) ; 
 so that the young lady and her friends, being at a 
 loss to explain such eccentricity, were not a little 
 astonished and perplexed. But, as my mother adds, 
 "this was only the beginning." After a few com- 
 plimentary words, my father drew a paper from his 
 pocket, which he gave to his bride, saying, " Here, 
 signorina, is my moral portrait, of which you cannot 
 judge at first sight as you may of my outward appear- 
 ance." After which he courteously took his leave, 
 saying as he went out, that if on acquaintance with 
 his real character she was still of the same mind, he 
 should be very happy to devote his whole life to her, 
 and become her husband. 
 
 My mother told me, that with the inexperience 
 of eighteen, with the candour and ignorance of the 
 world resulting from a very strict education, she 
 was so frightened by the long list of serious faults 
 of which her intended accused himself, that she 
 was on the point of breaking off the engagement, 
 Her parents, however, who knew better how to take 
 
38 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 it, laughed at the paper and at her. The self-accused 
 culprit was recalled, cordially welcomed, and after 
 receiving an assurance of fuU confidence in his future 
 reformation, the marriage took place. 
 
 On this subject my mother has written the follow- 
 ing words : " This was the first link of a golden chain 
 of faith and conjugal love which, for forty-two years, 
 bound the happy Cristina in an indissoluble tie tiU 
 the 26th of November 1830, when it was broken by 
 death, or rather rendered partly immortal in heaven." 
 
 The agitation preceding the revolution had already 
 begun in France, but the outbreak was as yet de- 
 layed ; and for three years my parents enjoyed true 
 felicity and peace. These were, I believe, the only 
 happy years of their life. They had two sons; the 
 elder of whom died in infancy : the second, named 
 Roberto, attained the age of seventy-three. Four 
 other sons and two daughters were born to them 
 subsequently. One of the latter (Matilde) married 
 Count Rinco ; she was beautiful and good as an 
 angel, but died of consumption at the age of twenty- 
 two : the other (Melania) also died very yomig. 
 Enrico, afterwards a captain of artillery, died in 
 1824, aged twenty-nine ; so that Roberto, Prospero 
 the Jesuit, and myself, were the only survivors ; 
 and they too left me solitary, the last of my bre- 
 tlu-en, in 1862. 
 
CAVALIERI SERVENTI. 39 
 
 It was the year 1788-89. Society was undergo- 
 ing a process of renovation. The epoch of legalised 
 ^'cavalieri serventi" (sometimes even slipulated for by 
 matrimonial contract) was near its end. They had 
 been one of the thousand signs of the necessity of 
 reconstructing society on a new basis. 
 
 I leave the reader to judge whether, fashionable 
 or not, my father was a man likely to yield to this 
 foolish and evil custom. But even supposing he could 
 have done so, it could never have been tolerated for 
 a moment by my mother. I find in her manuscript 
 a few lines on this subject, which illustrate the 
 period, also her graceful wit and mature judgment. 
 
 " These," she says, " were the happy days in 
 which it was once more the fashion for husbands to 
 be the cavalieri of their own wives. What dreary gri- 
 maces, what dreadfiil yawns, might be seen on the 
 faces of certain married couples, who were thus com- 
 pelled to sacrifice their liberty and inclinations to the 
 idol of fashion !" How easy to imagine one sees them ! 
 
 But this tranquil happiness was of short duration. 
 My father, being out one day stag-hunting with the 
 Duke of Aosta, whose equerry he then was, had to 
 give a loud cry. in order to summon some huntsmen 
 at a distance. This effort occasioned the bursting of 
 a blood-vessel in his chest, and the haemorrhage was 
 so great that his Hfe was for some time in jeopardy. 
 
40 MT EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 and he was compelled in consequence to resign his 
 post at court. This illness was again treated success- 
 folly, and my father recovered just in time to take 
 part in the long wars and other national vicissitudes 
 which, after a short pause in 1814, began afresh in 
 1821, and will continue until it pleases God to give 
 us a settled organisation. 
 
 It is no part of my plan to write history ; least 
 of all that of events already generally known. I 
 shall therefore not dilate on the wars in which Pied- 
 mont resisted the French invasion. Alas that I 
 must say Piedmont ! without adding, and the other 
 states of Italy, albeit the latter shared the same hopes 
 and fears, and were threatened by the same dangers. 
 But when asked to form a league, they all shrank 
 from it. Naples alone showed some slight inclina- 
 tion to adhere to it, which, however, came to no- 
 thing. The governments which had refused to unite 
 voluntarily in the hour of peril were afterwards — as 
 always happens — involved in the common ruin. 
 
 How often during my childhood have I heard my 
 father spea:k of this abandonment of Piedmont to her 
 own resources ! He abhorred foreign invasion more 
 than any one ; therefore more than any he deplored 
 the civil discord of Italy. 
 
 When war broke out in the county of Nice, Count 
 St. Andre was intrusted with the command of the 
 
WAR AGAINST FRANCE. 41 
 
 corps Warmie in that district, and appointed my 
 father his aide-de-camp. He was with him through 
 two campaigns. Later he was sent to the Valley of 
 Aosta, where he held the rank of lieutenant-colonel 
 of the regiment Vercelli. 
 
 Here I am ashamed to confess that I know very 
 little of my father's military exploits, except the last, 
 which I shall mention presently. I only know that, 
 as I have already said, he was considered an excel- 
 lent soldier. He never spoke in his own praise, and 
 very seldom made any allusion to his adventures at 
 that time. I might, indeed, have sought information 
 from his contemporaries and brother officers, but this 
 I omitted in the thoughtlessness of youth. What 
 would I not now give to be able to evoke and ques- 
 tion their spirits ! 
 
 Let this be a warning to those who may still have 
 it in their power to avoid similar regx'ets. I remem- 
 ber, however, hearing one anecdote from a friend of 
 the family. When the war broke out, our army had 
 been inactive since the wars for the Polish succession. 
 Forty-six or forty-seven years of peace imply abso- 
 lute want of practical knowledge, from the general- 
 in-chief down to the lowest drummer. Besides this, 
 the provincial organisation then in force — by which 
 the soldier only served a short time with his regi- 
 ment — ^had no tendency to correct this inexperience 
 
42 MT EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 in any way. One of the duties, and also one great 
 difficulty, of the officers was that of accustoming their 
 soldiers to that severe and continual sacrifice of self 
 called discipline, without which one may muster a 
 host of gallant men, but it would be impossible to 
 organise an army or even a regiment. One day in 
 the Valley of Aosta my father had to lead his bat- 
 talion through a rather long defile, in the face of the 
 enemy and under a battery which swept the road, — 
 an excellent occasion for training his provincial con- 
 tingent. He was one of those men who prefer to dis- 
 play courage at their own expense instead of at that 
 of others. He might in this instance have formed 
 into column for a vain boast, and presented his flank 
 to the enemy, with great danger to his soldiers and 
 less to himself. Instead of this, he drew up his 
 men in two lines, with drums beating, and placing 
 himself at their head, marched forward at a slow 
 steady pace. In this formation they reached the 
 ground which was to ofier them shelter ; and it is 
 singular that the fire of the enemy should have only 
 struck the point of the flag-staff; thus proving the 
 truth of Gianduja's* old adage. La paura V ^ faita 
 d' nen, — Pear is made of nothing; a proverb which, 
 if not always strictly true — for instance, when one 
 
 * The popular mark by which the Pledmontese type is per- 
 sonified. 
 
NATIONAL CHAEACTER. 43 
 
 is under grape-shot — is, however, the faithfiil ex- 
 pression of the national character of our people, who 
 will never see danger where none exists, and some- 
 times not even where it does. I do not mean to 
 attach more importance to this fact than it deserves, 
 which my father himself would certainly not have 
 done, and his military life must have doubtless pre- 
 sented other episodes worthier of record, of which I 
 am unfortunately ignorant. 
 
 I now come to the action in which he was made 
 prisoner. It happened on the Little St. Bernard, 
 between Thuille and the Hospice ; for hostiHties were 
 long carried on in those wild passes. He and 
 his men occupied the spot called Terre Rosse. It 
 had been a day of misfortune : the regiment com- 
 manded by my father was so cut up that it might 
 be considered entirely destroyed. Naturally refus- 
 ing to fly, he was sm'rounded on every side, made 
 prisoner, iU-treated, and robbed of everything valu- 
 able about him, as was the custom in those days far 
 more than it is now, thank Heaven ! A moment be- 
 fore he feU into the hands of the enemy, he happened 
 to look behind him, to ascertain whether any of his 
 men were left. He himself told me the story in the 
 ' following terms : "I glanced behind me, but saw no 
 one, except a drummer, a boy of fourteen. Thinking 
 it was useless for him to be taken prisoner, I called 
 
44 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 out, somewhat impatiently, 'What are you doing 
 here ?' To which the boy answered, ' As long as the 
 colonel is here, I remain here too.' " It is a pity not 
 to know what became of this brave boy. My father 
 never heard of him again. Another companion re- 
 mained also by his side, and with his history I am 
 fortmiately well acquainted. I said in the preceding 
 pages that I should have to bring to light heroic 
 characters belonging to every class of society. Here, 
 then, is one of the most remarkable too, for I am 
 about to speak of a poor peasant from the Valley 
 of Lanzo, ignorant and boorish, imable to read or 
 write ; who had no idea of the existence of heroes, 
 either ancient or modern ; who had no acquaint- 
 ance with the family of the Atrides, nor with 
 Agamemnon, and had never heard mention of his 
 son Orestes ; he could therefore never understand 
 why my father ever afterwards called him Pylades ; 
 far less, I surmise, how much honour and glory was 
 attached to this classical and semi-mythological bap- 
 tism. Time out of mind, the VaUey of Lanzo has 
 supplied Turin with ser^^ants, and with that pecu- 
 liar popular type of street wine-carriers, clad in blue, 
 and called in Piedmontese hrindour, so famihar to 
 every one who has been in the old capital of Piedmont. 
 Giovanni Drovetti came from Colle San Giovanni, 
 a small hamlet situated in that valley, to be footmaii in 
 
A PRISONER OF WAR. 45 
 
 our house; and my father finding him a stalwart and 
 healthy fellow, took him for his servant during the 
 campaign. He never lost sight of his master, and at 
 this perilous moment was by his side as usual. My 
 father said to him also, "Away! Don't allow yourself 
 to be taken." But the stout mountaineer stared 
 with eyes so fall of wonder at hearing such words 
 addressed to him, that my father said not another 
 word, but accepted the faithful fellow's sacrifice; 
 and the glance exchanged between the two at that 
 moment knit them together for ever. Having both 
 been led behind the French lines, my father was 
 mistaken for an emigrant, and was at once sur- 
 rounded by several republicans, who threatened him 
 with their drawn swords, crying out insolently, '^Ca- 
 naille d^imigriV My father calmly answered, ''Non, 
 je ne suis pas un imigri.'''' But at last an ofiicer in- 
 terposed, and put an end to a scene so unworthy of 
 disciplined soldiers. 
 
 He was then transported to Montbrison, and 
 thence to Fours, in the province of Forez. At that 
 time the power of Eobespierre and the terrorists 
 stiU reigned in that far-off town ; they continued to 
 run riot even after the 9th Thermidor, which put an 
 end to their dominion in Paris. Ten sous a day in 
 assignats, which the loss of eighty per cent reduced 
 to two, were assigned to the prisoners. Upon this 
 
46 MT KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 master and servant were compelled to live. They 
 had no choice but to beg alms. But during the 
 Reign of Terror, he vrho assisted a royalist was 
 looked upon with suspicion, and we all know the 
 result of being suspected at that time. Our desti- 
 tute prisoners, therefore, did their best not to compro- 
 mise their benefactors. The mountaineer whom we 
 called John used to beg and receive charity in secret. 
 " He found (says the manuscript) great consolation 
 in the kindliness of the worthy people, always so 
 numerous in France, even in those terrible days, 
 more particularly among those of the softer sex. 
 Charitable ladies used to wait for Giovanni at night, 
 and give him bread and other provisions for his 
 master. There was even a peasant-girl who would 
 have lent Cesare six hundred francs, without any 
 security for its repayment." 
 
 Here, again, is another noble soul, whose name I 
 shall never know, and whose sons or grandsons I am 
 unable to thank. 
 
 More than once I heard my father relate some 
 particulars of his life of beggary at that time. " One 
 day (he told me, among other things) we were taken 
 across the Rhone in a large ferry-boat crowded 
 with horses and mules. Hunger forced us to beg 
 of the other passengers. They threw us a few raw 
 onions, which fell in the dirt among the mides. 
 
EOUGH REFECTION. 47 
 
 Those onions, dipped in the river, were all we had 
 for our dinner." Happily my father, in sharing that 
 coarse food with the poor mountaineer his companion, 
 felt it not a humiliation, but an honom*. What, in- 
 deed, can be more honourable than to deserve the 
 sacrifices made by others for our sakes ? 
 
 At other times he would receive a hint that Mass 
 would be said secretly in some secluded spot at a 
 certaiQ hour of the night. Like the Christians of the 
 early Chm-ch, he would go to hear it through every 
 difficulty, through frost and snow, through dark- 
 ness and danger the most extreme — for the liberty of 
 conscience then in vogue wotdd have made death the 
 penalty of discovery. 
 
 At last, after the death of Eobespierre, when the 
 Eeign of Terror had ceased even in ultra-terrorist 
 Montbrison, a reaction took place scarcely less cruel 
 than the preceding rule. My father was no longer 
 hated and repulsed as before; a royalist might be 
 tolerated, if only because, under Eobespierre, they 
 had debated the question whether it would not be 
 better to massacre all the prisoners, in order to save 
 the two sous allowed them for their maintenance. 
 But the kinsmen, the sons of the Jacobite victims, 
 seized by a fever of savage revenge, pursued their 
 executioners to the death. My father told me of a 
 young man he had always noticed for his piety and 
 
48 MY EECOLLBCTIONS. 
 
 general worth, and who came one day to see him, 
 with his hair dishevelled and his looks wild and 
 ferocious, crying : " Monsieur, je viens de tuer celui 
 qui a fait guillotiner mon pkre.'^ " Monsieur, vous 
 ii'Stespas chrdtien," was the answer of my father. 
 
 But while he was enduring so much misery, my 
 mother was in stiU greater agonies at Turin, where 
 she mourned lier husband as dead. 
 
 In the action in which he had been taken, the 
 French, having, as I said, the advantage, had occu- 
 pied our positions. Any identification of the dead and 
 wounded was thus impossible. The reports of those who 
 had been, or ought to have been, among the combat- 
 ants, obtained implicit credence ; and unfortunately (I 
 grieve to say so of a Piedmontese officer) there was 
 one who, to prove that he had been in the front rank 
 as well as my father, actually asserted that the latter 
 had received a bullet in his breast, and was struck 
 dead by a second in the forehead, before he could 
 assist him. 
 
 As it was impossible to suppose an officer could 
 be guilty of such infamy, his words were fully be- 
 lieved : Lieut. -Colonel Cesare d'Azeglio was reported 
 among the killed, and my mother informed that her 
 husband had fallen honourably at the head of his men. 
 
 When we, his three sons — Roberto, Enrico, and 
 I — entered the army, our father made us give him 
 
A GOOD HUSBAND. 49 
 
 our word of honour never to attempt the discovery 
 of that coward, or even of his name, which he al- 
 ways refused to tell us. 
 
 My mother was then expecting the birth of my 
 brother Enrico ; and the shock of this news greatly 
 contributed to ruin her health, and to render her a 
 confirmed invahd. 
 
 On reading the wiU made by my father before 
 his departure to the war, it was found that he had 
 left a very liberal jointure to his widow, to be paid 
 to her even in case of a second marriage. In another 
 paragraph he said, " Should I die on the field, I beg 
 my wife not to wear weeds, but rather to put on gay 
 attire, since, after having given vent to her grief for 
 my loss, she must consider it a great honour for us 
 both that I was able to give my Hfe for my king and 
 country." 
 
 Two months elapsed before my mother received 
 any news of her husband; At last she learnt that 
 he was alive and unhurt, but a prisoner in France. 
 The joy of this unexpected announcement gave a 
 fresh shock to her already shattered constitution. 
 Through the good offices of the king's minister in 
 Switzerland she obtained the concession that the 
 prisoner should be sent home on parole. 
 
 Already she and her children were hoping to see 
 him, but he was to be free only on condition that he 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
50 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 should not hear arms against the Republic until 
 regularly exchanged; and my father answered with- 
 out hesitation that he would never sign a promise to 
 abstain from fighting for his country and against her 
 enemies. He preferred remaining in that sad and 
 bitter captivity, leading a miserable life, far from the 
 wife and children in whom all his affections cenfred ; 
 and he endured all this misery for six months more 
 rather than fail in what he considered his duty. 
 
 But his conduct was appreciated in a manner 
 very unusual at that time. After the armistice of 
 Cherasco, 21st April 1796, and the humiliating 
 peace of the 15th of May, he at last received per- 
 mission to return home ; and those very men who 
 then ruled in France, and whom history has already 
 judged, would not let Colonel d'Azeglio depart with- 
 out paying a tribute to his noble conduct. In the 
 document which liberated him there was a phrase 
 mentioning " la louahle ddicatesse du citoyen d'Aze- 
 glio en refusant sa liberty sous la condition de ne plus 
 porter les armes contre les ennemis de son souverain" &c. 
 
 I beg the reader to think over the men he has 
 known, and consider how many he has found of a 
 similar stamp. If he has met with but few such, or 
 perhaps none at all, he will be able to understand 
 what I feel as I write these pages. And here it 
 may not be' unadvisable to point out once more how 
 
IMPORTANCE OF GOOD PRINCIPLES. 51 
 
 powerftdly great minds influence the people who 
 surround them, their country, and the times in 
 which they live. With reference only to ourselves, 
 his children, I say that, however inferior we have 
 been to our father in capacity for sacrifice and in 
 elevation of mind, we still owe whatever there may 
 have been in our lives of good and honourable en- 
 tirely to his noble and venerated example. 
 
 I feel in myself the indestructible strength of first 
 ideas and first impressions. In fact, he who from ' 
 his earliest years finds himself in an atmosphere of 
 probity, loyalty, and honour, grows up surrounded 
 by.it, gradually passing from the stages of childhood 
 to youth, and thence to manhood, becomes so tho- 
 roughly imbued with those principles that, in spite 
 of error, wildness, and even serious faults, his cha- 
 racter remains sound at the core, thanks to an in- 
 stinctive sense of duty and honour. And in any of 
 the emergencies of life it is almost impossible that 
 one so trained should prove a disgrace to himself or 
 to others ; the probability being, on the contrary, 
 all on the other side ; and thus the country is well 
 served, well defended, and becomes strong, powerful, 
 and respected. 
 
 For this reason Washington, whom I consider 
 the first among those rare men, true fathers of na- 
 tions, who have bestowed on them not only material 
 
52 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 existence, but also their moral Kfe, — for this reason, 
 I say, he wrote from his retirement at Mount Vernon 
 to those who were then at the head of the Govern- 
 ment, " Choose gentlemen for your officers." He 
 had neither aristocratic pride nor democratic envy ; 
 his judgment was sober ; he loved his country ; and 
 by gentlemen certainly did not mean a particular 
 caste, but intended to designate all those who had 
 received a liberal education, and, if possible, were in 
 independent circumstances. 
 
 He could not mean, nor do I, to depreciate persons 
 of a more humble class ; but society must apportion its 
 tasks with a view to the general benefit of the comrau- 
 nity, just as on board ship the qualities of the different 
 hands are taken into account and employed to the 
 best advantage. " Knowledge must command, and 
 gnorance obey ;" and if ships are usually better 
 ordered than states, it is only because every indivi- 
 dual on board accepts the position assigned to him, 
 whereas in governments the least competent are 
 generally the most ambitious of power. 
 
 And it is not enough to say " knowledge must 
 command," if you do not add, " and he must take the 
 helm who is endowed with the greatest readiness to 
 sacrifice himself to duty ;" that is to say, he who is 
 the most willing to sacrifice his own interest to the 
 general welfare. Now, I ask, which of the two is 
 the more likely to be prepared for such sacrifice ; he 
 
THE TWO DEMOCRACIES. 53 
 
 who has learned from his infancy that it is honour- 
 able to acquire honestly and dispense hberally ; or he 
 who was taught by everything he saw and heard as 
 a child that man's mission on earth is to buy cheap 
 and sell dear ? 
 
 The democracy of Washington was the triumph 
 of right over privilege ; but the democracy of our 
 days is rather the triumph of another privilege over 
 common right. The realistic school does not flourish 
 in literature and art only, but it may even be said 
 that its real cradle has been the field of polities. (Who- 
 ever wishes to make profound researches on this point 
 may. betake himself to Hegel and Schelling, to the 
 Pantheists, &c. ; but let us leave such nebulous mat- 
 ters to the Germans.) This schooldoes not acknow- 
 ledge anything as real unless it be ugly and unchaste, 
 as it has shown in art and in literature, by choosing 
 loose women for heroines, and convicts for heroes, 
 and by painting pictures which, examined at railway 
 speed, might perhaps seem such, but which on a 
 closer inspection would never for a moment deserve 
 the name. What can we learn in polities from such 
 a school as this ? In truth, the abuse of words 
 has now reached such a pitch, that one says of a 
 torn shabby coat, "0, what a democratic coat I"* 
 
 * In Italy the word " democratic" is used figuratively to de- 
 signate anything ehabty, worn out, or otherwise worthless. 
 
54 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 and of an ill-kept filthy dwelling, " 0, what a demo- 
 cratic house !" And a great many people are seriously 
 persuaded that democracy consists in the worship 
 and triumph of the ugly, the ignoble, and the slothful 
 in general, as well morally as materially. 
 
 If Washington came now with his gentlemen, 
 I need not tell you with what favour this sort of 
 democracy would receive him. 
 
 Now, for my part, though an aristocrat by birth, 
 I am a democrat by choice ; but let me be understood 
 to mean that truly Christian democracy which makes 
 every man equal in the eye of the political, social, and 
 civil, as well as of the rehgious law ; and I beg leave 
 to predict that Italy, Europe, and the world at large 
 will never be at rest (not even that relative rest con- 
 sistent with life on earth and human passions) until 
 true democracy shall reign unquestioned on the ruins 
 of the two systems, the old and the new ; until it has 
 stifled the two parasites which from above and below 
 consume the roots and the summit of the great plant 
 of human society ; until it is universally admitted 
 and believed that no government, no independence, 
 no liberty, is possible unless each authority, all par- 
 ties, all communities, as well as every individual, is 
 legally responsible, and unless this responsibility is 
 rendered real and tangible by making exceptions to it 
 as few as possible. 
 
THE TWO DESPOTISMS. 55 
 
 But SO long as society fluctuates, like a pen- 
 dulum thoughtlessly set in motion, between the two 
 extremes of Russian despotism from above and that 
 of the United (now disunited)* States from below, 
 Adam's poor progeny will seek in vain for a just 
 balance of power. 
 
 In common justice, however, I must apologise 
 to Russian despotism for having compared it with , 
 that of America ; for whilst Alexander Roumanoff I 
 breaks the fetters of his own serfs, Abraham Lincoln | 
 only emancipates those belonging to his enemies. * 
 What conclusion must we draw ? Of these two tyran- 
 nies, which must be considered the worst ? But if I 
 continue in this strain, I shall never end, and I have 
 already wandered too far from my subject. 
 
 The reader may perhaps have blamed my love 
 of digression ; if so, I must, in my turn, entreat him 
 not to weigh the literary merits of these pages over 
 carefully. I offer them to the public merely as a 
 scrap-book, wherein I noted down thoughts as they 
 arose in my mind, only hoping they may be of some 
 use to a ftiture generation. If I herein delude my- 
 self, what is to be done ? It will be a fault of my 
 intellect, but not of my wiU. 
 
 I now resume the thread of my narrative. 
 
 The happy day at last arrived on which my 
 * These first chapters were written in 1863. 
 
56 MY KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 parents saw each other again. The meeting took 
 place at the hospice on Mont Cenis. 
 
 As I am not writing a novel, but a narrative of 
 facts, a description of touching scenes does not enter 
 into my design. I therefore leave the reader to 
 picture the joy of this young couple, so deeply 
 attached to each other, who had believed themselves 
 parted for ever, but who were thus once more united, 
 after so much anxiety and suffering, of which no 
 trace remained but an additional glory won for my 
 father's reputation by his firmness and high-minded 
 courage. 
 
 Providence has exceptional compensations in store 
 for those who continually sacrifice themselves to the 
 welfare of others ; and there are certainly moments 
 in life which might almost suffice to repay the tor- 
 ments of an eternity. 
 
 But my father did not come back fi-om captivity 
 alone. The poor mountaineer, a voluntary prisoner 
 and beggar for his sake, returned with him. He 
 wept for joy at meeting his master and mistress. My 
 father introduced him to his wife, no longer " Gio- 
 vanni Drovetti," but " Pylades." He presented him 
 as a friend, and as such he remained in our house 
 till he died. I have still the pleasure of paying a 
 pension to his heirs, whom I pray Heaven to bless, 
 protect, and multiply. 
 
POOK PYLADES ! 57 
 
 The other servants were quite unable to compre- 
 hend his classical and poetical name, and instead of 
 Pylades, they but too often called him Pilate. What 
 everybody, however, did comprehend was, how de- 
 serving of esteem and affection the poor faithful 
 peasant was ; for he had such a happy nature that, 
 without a vestige of that liberal education I men- 
 tioned above, he had heart and mind enough for a 
 hundred gentlemen. Nevertheless, the exception only 
 proves the rule. 
 
 Pylades is one of my earliest recollections. But 
 when I became acquainted with him, I did not know, 
 nor should I have been able to appreciate, the worth 
 of that clumsy, thick-built old servant, always in 
 knee-breeches, which displayed a pair of short Her- 
 culean legs, like those of the caryatides whose busi- 
 ness is to support galleries and cornices. 
 
 He died in the house at an advanced age, ful- 
 filling to the last his lowly duties, without boasting 
 of what he had done, or seeming to know that he 
 had been anything but a poor peasant in the service 
 of the Marquis d'Azeglio, like so many others. 
 
 Poor Pylades ! I could wish these pages to pos- 
 sess merits enough to live for a while. Then, at least, 
 your fate would differ from that of so many other 
 obscure men, who, without the aid of books or ex- 
 amples, found in themselves the germs of heroism, 
 
58 MY KBCOLLECTIONS. 
 
 and accomplished great sacrifices unknown and un- 
 dreamt of by the world. You, at least, would escape 
 a total oblivion. 
 
 Providence, however, wiU give him a better re- 
 compense. Having faith in its justice, I, for my 
 part, will never believe that, in the unknown and 
 mysterious place where their due meed awaits our 
 souls, if, to use a human phrase, there are different 
 classes, crowns, or more or less exalted seats, — I 
 will never believe, I say, that if God in his goodness 
 gives me admission, I shall have the mortification of 
 finding Pylades, for instance, seated lower than Alex- 
 ander the Great. I feel certain, on the contrary, 
 that I shall find him on a far higher throne ; and 
 this wiU be but justice to both. 
 
 It would be strange, indeed, that he who doomed 
 so many human souls to despair, in order to ap- 
 propriate the good things intended by Providence 
 for the benefit of all — he who, when maddened by 
 drink, killed his dearest firiend, and died of intem- 
 perance, leaving so many nations a prey to his savage 
 captains, — it would be strange, I say, if Eternal 
 Justice were to prefer Alexander the Great to Gio- 
 vanni Drovetti. 
 
 I should like to see this ! — Never ! 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 Italian disasters — My brother Enrico — My birth — Domestic life of 
 my father — Poverty of the Piedmontese nobles — Error of our 
 rulers — Habits of my family — Distress at the public calami- 
 ties — Beginning of the century — Endeavours of my father to 
 make himself useful — He settles at Florence with his family 
 — Fuit — Is Florence a place of exile ? — My father hates the 
 foreign yoke — Exiles at Florence. 
 
 Public misfortunes soon disturbed the domestic 
 peace of my parents. 
 
 For several years Piedmont had been Kterally 
 the battle-field of two powerful nations ; we were 
 compelled to pay tribute of blood and money to both, 
 with no better hope in the end than that of becoming 
 the slaves of the victor. 
 
 Who at that time gave heed to the great truths 
 proclaimed by the Revolution to those eternally just 
 and beneficent principles called the principles of '89 ? 
 They had been replaced by those of '99, which may 
 be summed up in one word, rapacity. Plunder was 
 the universal aim ; and experience had not then proved 
 what even children in arms now know, viz. how 
 marvellously that pleasant operation is assisted by 
 grand and high-sounding words. 
 
60 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Many believed at that time that liberty could be 
 imported from abroad, just as other articles de nou- 
 veautds are brought from Paris. It was supposed 
 that every fool could play the part of a free man, 
 and that any personal quahties and deserts vrere 
 mere superfluities. 
 
 Therefore all those who were tired (and not un- 
 reasonably) of the abuses of the old governments, 
 which the French Revolution had come to destroy, 
 received its apostles with open arms. History re- 
 cords, and everyone knows, how well their line pro- 
 mises were kept. 
 
 But these questions are foreign to my subject, 
 and I therefore proceed. 
 
 I said that at the time of my father's captivity^ 
 my mother was near her confinement. 
 
 She afterwards gave birth to a son, who was 
 my brother Enrico. The terrible anxiety that had 
 preyed upon her exercised a fatal influence on his 
 disposition and character. He had great aptitude 
 for abstract science, but his intellect was of tardy 
 growth; and as the quickness of his perceptions did 
 not keep pace with his love of knowledge and thirst 
 for distinction, he became melancholy and diffident, 
 and his short and weary life drew to a close before 
 he completed his thirtieth year. 
 
 But of him more hereafter; his frank, loving. 
 
MT STRING OF iJAMES. 61 
 
 but melancholy disposition offers a study not devoid 
 of interest, and may contain some useful warnings 
 for youth — an aim I have continually in view. 
 
 Enrico was not the youngest son ; I was the last 
 born ; and I must now introduce myself to the reader, 
 and prepare to repeat perpetually that egotistical /, 
 who from first to last is of aU personages the most 
 troublesome and unmanageable. 
 
 But as I am to write my own history, this is 
 a difficulty from which there is no escape. Let us 
 therefore meet it at once. 
 
 I was born on the 24th October 1798, in our 
 house at Turin, in the inner room on the first floor, 
 in which I beheve many generations of my family 
 first saw the light. Cardinal Morozzo was my god- 
 father; and the following string of names was be- 
 stowed on me — Giuseppe Maria Gerolamo Raffaele 
 Massimo, by the last of which I have always been 
 known. 
 
 My mother was my nurse, and this was the first 
 of that long series of benefits with which during life 
 her unwearied solicitude thenceforward continually 
 overwhelmed me. 
 
 After the treaty of Paris in May 1796, my father 
 had withdrawn from public life, devoting himself to 
 his family and the care of his private affairs, which 
 had suffered greatly from the vicissitudes and wars 
 
62 MT EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 of preceding years. Our once-wealthy house was 
 reduced to comparative poverty. In other parts of 
 Italy I have often heard people deride us Piedmon- 
 tese because we are poor, the aristocracy especially.* 
 But it should be remembered, first, that he who 
 has nothing, at least cannot be suspected of having 
 taken the goods of others ; second, that every time 
 war broke out, as it frequently did, and Piedmont 
 nearly always took part, the nobility, following the 
 example set them by the king, immediately ransacked 
 their houses, and parted with everything valuable to 
 assist in defraying the expenses. How, then, was it 
 possible to accumulate riches, when the houses of the 
 Piedmontese aristocracy were generally despoiled in 
 this way twice in a century? 
 
 Nor must it be supposed that the nobles alone 
 made these sacrifices ; the government, the public 
 treasury, the whole population of the country took 
 their share. Even now coiais are in circulation of the 
 value of eight, four, and one sous, which were ori- 
 ginally issued with a nominal value of twenty, ten, 
 and five sous (as is still shown by the legend they 
 bear with the date, 17961); and these were simply a 
 false coinage, which everybody knew to be such, 
 
 * It was a common saying, that all a Piedmontese nobleman 
 possessed was two nags in his stable, and a rusty old sword for 
 the service of the dukes of Savoy. 
 
 t This currency was withdrawn a few years ago. 
 
MALO ASSUETUS LIGUR. 63 
 
 but whicli nevertheless passed current ; and why ? 
 Because a Piedmontese is a tough and sturdy fellow, 
 ready to endure every hardship (the Romans them- 
 selves used to say "malo assuetus Ligur"), never 
 shrinking from danger or sacrifice for the sake of 
 his country, his sovereign, and his own honour. 
 Through this we have kept our independence, and 
 never fallen to the condition of a conquered land : 
 even when subdued for a while by the overwhelming 
 power of Charles V., Francis L, and the first Napo- 
 leon, we resisted with such fierce persistence, that we 
 have always succeeded in casting out the oppressors, 
 and becoming once more masters in our own. 
 
 And here it may be said that the Piedmontese 
 neither were nor are by any means better gifted 
 than other Italians ; but they have more firmness and 
 determination of character; and to this they owe 
 their leadiag position and their foremost place in the 
 total emancipation (let us hope) of the Peninsula, as 
 also their unpopularity in the other provinces. But 
 as we have never speculated on our patriotism, or 
 considered the liberation of Italy in the light of a 
 joint-stock company, with its dividends and interests ; 
 as we are still the same stout old race, and Tnalo 
 assueti like our fathers, — ^we shall bear this evil as 
 they have borne many others in past centuries. And 
 when Italians shall have become men, 'and form a 
 
64 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 compact and powerful nation, what matter a few 
 sacrifices more or less to secure so glorious an end ? 
 
 But, in justice to all, let us remark, that though 
 it is their own fault if Italians are more or less 
 angry with Piedmont, it must also be said, that 
 the Piedmoutese have to a great extent incurred it 
 justly, or, to speak more correctly (for the poor Pied- 
 montese themselves had nothing to do with it), those 
 who governed them have done so, thanks to the 
 egregious blunders they have committed. I shall 
 by and by have to recur to this subject too often; 
 for, as everyone knows, I am accustomed to speak 
 unreservedly. This, however, is neither the time 
 nor place for the discussion. 
 
 My father, having rejoined his family, devoted 
 himself exclusively to his domestic and private afi^airs. 
 The late troubles had cost him no less than 400,000 
 francs in hard cash; not to mention losses entailed 
 on his estates by neglect of cultivation, agricultural 
 labours having been entirely suspended by the war ; 
 nor the plate and jewels, &c., which, like the royal 
 family and all the nobility, he had sent to the public 
 exchequer as soon as hostilities broke out. 
 
 After attending to his long-neglected property, he 
 was always in the habit of devoting the remainder 
 of the day to study. My mother had received a 
 very good moral education, as was usual in all our 
 
DOMESTIC LIFE. 65 
 
 families; but it was also the custom to pay very 
 little attention to the intellectual culture of young 
 girls, of whom nothing more was required than a 
 knowledge of French, very little, if any, Italian, and 
 a moderate acquaintance with Telemaque and Eollin. 
 
 My father undertook to cultivate the mind of 
 his young wife, who had been very happily gifted 
 by nature, and who possessed a great facility of 
 conceiving and expressing ideas ; so that her style 
 was easy and natural, yet full of graceful and subtle 
 thoughts. She thus alludes to her private life in her 
 manuscript: 
 
 " Cesare delighted in a life of domestic privacy, 
 shared by a few tried and weU-ehosen friends, whom 
 he liked to assemble round his table. 
 
 " His days were fuUy employed. After the fulfil- 
 ment of his religious duties, he spent several hours 
 with his wife, whose education he perfected. She 
 acquired all she knows from that affectionate and 
 accomplished master. Four hoxu-s each day were 
 usually devoted to these studies during four or five 
 years. And the future education of the children was 
 thus provided for, by fitting their mother for its 
 superintendence during the absence of her husband 
 on the public service. The rest of the day he em- 
 ployed in reading works on history and literature," 
 &c. 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
66 
 
 MY KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 But this calm domestic life, these days of peace- 
 ful study, wore only the outward semblance of re- 
 pose ; in reality they were troubled by dark fore- 
 bodings. 
 
 No one who truly loves his country can see it 
 gradually sinking to decay, gliding down the fatal 
 descent which leads to ruin, or at least to long and 
 terrible woes, or witness the evil which he has no 
 power to arrest in its onward course, and yet hope 
 to find oblivion or consolation in study and artistic 
 pursuits. He who behoves it possible has never 
 passed through that ordeal which my father was 
 destined to find so long and bitter. 
 
 At this stage, a host of reflections crowd in upon 
 my mind. The reader must pardon me if I give 
 utterance to a few. 
 
 For centuries man has been as restless as an 
 invahd fretting on his bed of sickness. Like him, 
 he has sought relief by tm-ning from side to side, 
 ignorant that his pain is not the result of a posi- 
 tion, but of an internal disease, and that it is this 
 which must be cured. And what is this disease? 
 It dwells not in the different forms of government 
 or their laws, but in man himself — in his heart and 
 in his conscience. The evil lurks in the darkness 
 which has hitherto overshadowed human intellect, 
 in the imperfect notions of right and wrong, of 
 
DrFFEEENCE OF GOVEENMENTS. 67 
 
 justice and injustice hitherto attainable ; in a word, 
 it consists in the absence of that moral healthiness 
 which can alone keep society hale and strong. The 
 first government on record was intrusted to the 
 many; what Alfieri calls the government dd Troppi. 
 Weary of them, society next submitted itself to one 
 ruler. Again disappointed, it tried the leadership 
 of a few ; and then, more dejected and discouraged 
 than ever, renewed its experiments again, under the 
 impression that the mistake had been one of form. 
 Each of these different phases of government had 
 its representative men, who were severally interested 
 in prolonging its duration. But, by some fatality, 
 they have always been mainly instrumental in pre- 
 cipitating its end. 
 
 The Tarquins created the desire for a republic; 
 after Marius, Sulla, Brutus, Cassius, Caesar, Pompey, 
 the empire appeared a haven of x'est. Odoaeer and 
 Theodorio, who (except in war) were more like re- 
 publican chiefs than is generally believed, seemed 
 acceptable after the patricians -lEtius, Stilicho, B-ici- 
 mer, Orestes, and the Exarchs of Ravenna. Nothing 
 but republics could spring from the chaos of the tenth 
 century. Three centuries later they fell, more from 
 internal weakness than from external force. A 
 princely government was restored; and although 
 G-enoa, Lucca, and Venice maintained their repub- 
 
68 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 lican forms, how dreary an existence did they 
 lead! 
 
 On the fatal day which sealed the fall of the 
 ancient Queen of the Adriatic, the last Doge rated 
 the Council for not completing the work of self- 
 destruction with sufficient haste. " Let us remem- 
 ber, gentlemen," said he, " that we are not sure of 
 sleeping in our beds to-night." This was the fore- 
 most thought in the mind of the Doge, Luigi Manin, 
 on the 12th of May 1797. 
 
 And wherefore so many failures, so many dis- 
 asters? Because none had been able to discover 
 the true form for a civilised and powerful govern- 
 ment ? No ; simply because no one had known how 
 to form the heart, the conscience, and the character ; 
 because, in one brief word, there were no men. 
 
 Where, ou the other hand, some have been found, 
 the ruin was less immediate. 
 
 Piedmont, Heaven be praised, fell but twice, and 
 twice recovered itself. It resisted the best soldiers 
 of Europe for four years, and only succumbed at 
 last to the great warrior who afterwards spent fewer 
 months or even weeks in the conquest of Vienna, 
 Berlin, or Madrid, than it cost him or the repub- 
 lican generals years to enter Turin, This, then, was 
 no dishonourable defeat. 
 
 It must, however, be admitted that the two last 
 
AMADEUS n. 69 
 
 kings had neither the firmness nor the talent of 
 many others of their house. 
 
 In the beginning of the centmy, the indomitable 
 Victor Amadeus II.,* despoiled of everything, still 
 
 * Indomitable indeed ; for lie endured aU the calamities of 
 war witli undaunted courage, risking life and throne in ^he cause 
 of his allies. By valour in the field and skill in the cabinet he 
 was enabled, at the Peace of Utrecht, to double his ancient do- 
 minions, and to exchange his ducal coronet for a kingly crown. 
 In attaining this result he was greatly indebted to Queen Anne, 
 whose ally he had been throughout the war of the Spanish Succes- 
 sion. An ancestor of mine was then his ambassador in London ; 
 and the intrigues .which led the court of England to take so 
 active a part in securing adequate compensation to the Duke of 
 Savoy for his many sacrifices are now so little known, that I may 
 perhaps be pardoned if I borrow some account of these negotia- 
 tions from the memoirs of another member of my family, who 
 during the war had commanded the troops of the Elector of 
 Bavaria, — details which at this moment acquire additional in- 
 terest from the importance assumed by the kingdom of Italy. 
 
 " Le roi Charles ayant 6t6 exclus de la succession d'Espagne 
 aprfes son election k TEmpire, par la grande raison qu'il ne con- 
 venoit pas de joindre sur une mgme t§te les deux couronnes ; et 
 le roi de Prance jugeant presque inevitable de rappeller en France 
 le roi. Philippe, non seulement & cause des grandes pertes qu'il 
 avoit faites, et qui le contraignoient k s'accommoder d, I'inteu- 
 tion de ces alliez qu'il vouloit detacher de I'Empereur ; mais 
 encore par la mort de tous les princes de sa maison, et la maladie 
 dangereuse du Due d'Anjou, qui etoit I'unique qui reatoit : il parut 
 k la reine Anne (d'Angleterre), que le meilleur expedient seroit de 
 faii-e roi d'Espagne le Due de Savoye, qui avoit 6t^ substituS 3, 
 cette monarchic par le testament de Charles II, et elle en fit la 
 proposition au roi de France, qui ne s'y opposa point. EUe fit 
 ^orire ensuite au Comte Maffiei, qui, en quality de premier des 
 trois pl6nipotentiaires de Savoye, assistoit au Congrfes d'Utrecht, 
 qu'elle avoit ^ lui parler, et qu'elle se rendoit caution que le due 
 
70 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 scoured the country, no longer his, at the head of 
 a few horsemen. Without money, owning nothing 
 but his sword and his pistols, he one day broke the 
 golden collar he wore of the royal order of the An- 
 son maltre ne trouveroit pas mauvais qu'il e<it quittS le congr&s 
 sans sa permission. II passa done sur le champ 4 Londres, sga- 
 voir au mois de Mai (1712), et la reine nomma cinq commissaires 
 avec lesquels il devoit traiter, sans passer par le canal des minis- 
 tres. Cette Intrigue fut menagfie avec tout le secret possible, 
 et Ton convint que le due seroit provisionellement mis en posses- 
 sion de toutes les provinces de I'Bspagne, sans decider pour lors oe 
 qui arriveroit des autres domaines de la monarchie. On deman- 
 doit pour oet effet, que le duo renongdt solemn ellement 4 ses pro- 
 pres fitats, qui devoient etre donnez £b quelqu'autre prince, afin 
 qu'il ne devlnssent pas un domaine de la couronne d'Espagne: 
 mais le Comte Maffei refusa de rien conolure par rapport au 
 dernier article, se contentant de f aire connoltre, que comme le due 
 avoit alors deux ills, si le cadet demeuroit dans les 6tats paternels, 
 cela suffiroit pour empgcher I'union qu'on paroissoit vouloir 6viter. 
 Les choses allerent meme si loin, que le Comte Maffei signa ^ 
 Londres un traitfi de commerce entre I'Espagne et I'Angleterre, 
 qui ne devoit etre ratiflg qu'aprfes que le due seroit en Espagne, 
 od la flotte angloise le transporteroit. Mais avec tout cela, peu 
 de mois changerent entierement la face des affaires ; le Due 
 d'Anjou fut rfetabli de sa maladie ; en Augleterre un autre parti 
 prit le dessus ; les troupes frangoises eurent d'heureux succfes en 
 Flandre, et en un mot, on ne parla plus de rappeller d'Espagne le 
 roi Philippe ; et tous ces beaux projets s'fivanouirent. Alors cet 
 habile ministre changea de batterie, et profitant de la conjonoture, 
 quoiqu'il n'e<it aucun ordre ni instruction pour la chose qu'il 
 mfiditoit, il fit une autre tentative qui lui rfiussit ^ merveille. II 
 d6couvrit qu'on devoit acoorder k I'Empereur les 6tats d'ltalie, 
 mais que la reine Anne seroit la maltresse de disposer de la 
 Sioile. II demanda une audience particuliere k cette prinoesse, 
 et sgut lui reprSsenter si vivement oombien il fitoit juste de reoom- 
 
KOYAL DOWNFALL. 71 
 
 nunziata, and divided it among some poor peasants 
 whose cottages had been pillaged and burnt. But 
 his bones lay in the sanctuary of Superga,* and on 
 his tottering throne Providence had seated Charles 
 Emanuel and Victor Emanuel, well-meaning, like 
 all the princes of their race, but incapable alike of 
 firm resolve as of bold and energetic deeds. 
 
 Like many other princes of that period, they 
 themselves accelerated the destruction of their own 
 
 pensei" par-1^ un prince si eovrageux, et qui avoit tant merits, et 
 qu'elle pouvoit par ce moyen lui faire connoltre ses bonnes inten- 
 tions envers lui, que la reine y consentit de bon ooeur, et lui remit 
 un billet sign6 de sa propre main, par lequel elle lui en donna sa 
 parole royale. Le Comte Maffei envoya oe billet sur le champ ^ 
 Turin par un exprfes, et les jours suivans il y expedia deux autres 
 couriers. Ainsi le due se trouva roi de Sioile, avant qu'auoun 
 ministre, pas meme oeux de I'Angleterre, le spussent, et sans qu'on 
 y etit jamais pens6 auparavant. Ce fut ensuite une action bien 
 digne de la magnanimity de Victor Amedge, lorequ'il elit pris 
 possession de la Sardaigne, d'en nommer le m^me Maif ei viceroi, en 
 disant publiquement, qu'il gtoit bien juste de laisser le gouveme- 
 ment de ce royaume S, oelui qui lui en avoit procurg la posses- 
 sion." Memoires du Marquis Maffei, vol. ii. p. 218-22. La Haye, 
 Jean Neaulme, 1740. 
 
 By a curious coincidence, nearly a century and a half later 
 (1860), it was my fate to be attached to the King's Legation 
 in London, when another Queen of England was the first sove- 
 reign in Europe who recognised the new kingdom of Italy. 
 
 * This church was built by Victor Amadeus IL, on a hill to 
 the north of Turin, to commemorate the defeat of the French 
 under the walls of the city, 1706 ; and has been the burial-place 
 of the princes of the House of Savoy ever since. 
 
72 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 order. The monarchy of Savoy was shattered by 
 the strength, and still more by the perfidy, of the 
 French Government ; at the same time it was under- 
 mined to its very basis by the Piedmontese repuh- 
 lican party, whose activity and audacity made up 
 for their want of numbers; and, as if all this were not 
 enough, the royal family and its natural supporters 
 helped to discredit themselves, and accelerated their 
 own fall, by that blind pursuit of impossibilities 
 which invariably hastens the last moments of systems 
 doomed to perish. 
 
 My father witnessed these harrowing misfortunes, 
 an impotent spectator of the ruin, and, what is a 
 thousand times worse, of the disgrace, of all that he 
 had most venerated and loved on earth. Whenever 
 an opportunity arose of being useful to his country, 
 he never failed to volunteer his services. He twice 
 offered himself as a hostage for the king : moreover, 
 when Napoleon went to Egypt, and fortune, follow- 
 ing the gi-eat captain, had deserted the French in 
 Europe, forcing them to yield to Suwarrow and the 
 alhes, he was sent to Sardinia to invite the king 
 to return to Turin. 
 
 Victory finally crowned the French colours on 
 the plains of Marengo, and Piedmont was definitively 
 annexed to France. My father then adopted the 
 only course open to him, and left a home which 
 
FuiT ! 73 
 
 reminded him of so muoli misery, to settle with his 
 family at Florence. In his study, opposite his writ- 
 ing-table, he hung a view of Turin, on the frame 
 of which was inscribed the word ^^Fuit!" As a 
 child I used to gaze at the drawing, and spell that 
 word, unconscious how many glories and misfor- 
 tunes, what long and desperate struggles, what pain- 
 ful anxieties, passionate yearnings, and immortal 
 hopes, a noble heart summed up in that word Fuit, 
 which he kept before his eyes in the land of exile. 
 
 Florence a land of exile for a Turinese? This 
 question may now well be asked, and with reason. 
 
 But nothing is more unjust or fallacious than to 
 judge a man of one generation by the ideas of the 
 next. In weighing merits, as well as faults and 
 errors, it is most important to distinguish between 
 those which belong to the man individually, and those 
 which are due to the period in which he Hved. 
 
 The ideas of nationality — now destined, unless 
 appearances deceive us, to change the aspect of the 
 civilised world, or at least very greatly to modify 
 it — are peculiar to our century alone. They are a 
 logical sequence of the Christian scheme, which, by 
 guaranteeing his natural rights as man to each indi- 
 vidual, implies a tacit recognition of those of nations, 
 which are the most equitable and perfect form of 
 human association — fights which are anterior to all 
 
74 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 written law, and which constitute the least uncertain 
 of all bases for the political edifice. 
 
 This new aspect of society, now admitted by every- 
 one, is a step in advance, and one progression the 
 more. But it is quite a recent progression, and it 
 would be unfair to assert that our fathers should have 
 acted upon its principle. Those among them who 
 already felt the ignominy and evil of a foreign yoke 
 deserve praise, on the contrary, and must be con- 
 sidered as the precursors of our epoch. My father 
 was under the influence of this feeling. When re- 
 duced to an inert and passive life, he beheld his 
 country, its institutions and its independence, pros- 
 trate before a power which from the outset threatened 
 a violence that was afterwards carried to a height 
 far beyond all previous conception. 
 
 If my father grieved for Piedmont and not for 
 Italy (the different States ^f the Peninsula only 
 thought of themselves, as we saw when a league 
 for the general defence was proposed to them), the 
 fault was that of his age, not his own. But the 
 merit of having combated the foreigner by every 
 means in his power ; of never submitting to serve 
 him ; of remaining faithful through life to the poli- 
 tical and religious faith his conscience dictated to 
 him, without being ever drawn aside from that 
 straight path by hope or fear, — that merit, I say, 
 
EEVOLUTIONAEY CONVULSIONS. 75 
 
 is all his own. His was the merit of dying with- 
 out having ever hesitated a moment when duty lay 
 before him ; and for this he had the honour of being 
 deemed extx'eme and fanatical by the faithless and 
 enervated generation amongst whom he was to spend 
 his days. 
 
 But even the most violent, and blood-stained 
 revolutions do not end in merely producing pohti- 
 eal improvement, but, by a strange antithesis, they 
 are often the cause of a moral regeneration. They 
 rouse men up,' force them to seek strength and 
 resources in themselves, and to display qualities 
 and virtues of which they had no previous notion. 
 Certain political storms, like atmospheric ones, seem 
 to clear the air; and men breathe more freely 
 afterwards, under the influence of an invigorating 
 breeze. 
 
 Far be it from me, however, to have any hand 
 in the raising of such a storm. I do not like revo- 
 lutions; but Providence seems to approve them at 
 times, and I then content myself with trying to ana- 
 lyse their effects. 
 
 How many effeminate souls in all ages have been 
 regenerated by persecution and martyrdom I 
 
 During the terrible days of 1793, how many 
 victims overcame the ferocity of their judges and 
 executioners by their heroism ! 
 
76 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 How many steadfast believers, how many in- 
 domitable characters, sprang up unexpectedly in the 
 ranks of a court and boudoir clergy (who scarcely 
 knew in what or in whom they behoved), to defy 
 the thunders of those new despots who had madly 
 proscribed Christ, and proclaimed a com-tesan as the 
 Goddess of Eeason ! 
 
 Europe was then swarming with refugees who 
 had escaped from the. guillotine. They were to be 
 found in Florence, as in every other country ; and 
 men who had sacrificed their aU to a sense of duty 
 were naturally the bom friends of my father and his 
 constant associates. 
 
 Among them there wei'e the Bishop of Alby, the 
 Bishop of Beziers (of whom I have stiU a dim recol- 
 lection), and an old couple of the name of SessoUes. 
 There were also in Florence, exiles like my father, 
 Count Prosper Balbo with his family. Baron Per- 
 rone, the Marquis Delborgo, the Marchioness Prie, 
 and Count Scarampi, all Turinese. 
 
 Besides these there was the illustrious voluntary 
 exile, Vittorio Alfieri, who held my father in great 
 esteem, not so much for his virtues or his erudition, 
 as for the firmness he had displayed in opposing 
 and refusing all submission to the French revolu- 
 tionists. 
 
 My parents lived with this distinguished society. 
 
FIRST IMPBESSIONS. 77 
 
 and inhabited a small house in the Mercato Nuovo, 
 of which I have no recollection, for they left it when 
 I was quite a baby, and went to reside in the Casin 
 de' Nerli oltr' Amo. I have some remembrance of 
 this house, which was the scene of my earliest im- 
 pressions. 
 
CHAPTEE rV. 
 
 My apotheosis — Vittorio Alfleri and Fabre — I am persecuted by 
 two girls — Anecdotes — Alfieri's bolt — The Marchioness Prie — 
 End of my acquaintance with Countess d' Albany and Fabre — 
 A catastrophe — My father's occupations — A sonnet addressed 
 to Alfieri — Alfleri and Metastasio — Sonnet by the former in the 
 Piedmontese dialect — he reads Aloeste and Myrrlia to my 
 parents — Last days of Alfieri — He takes the sacraments ■ — 
 Clementina PriS-Incontri— Last illness of Alfieri — his death. 
 
 " Eld MammoUno, stai ferijio !" " Mammoliuo, I say, 
 be quiet!" 
 
 These words, spoken in a sepulcliral voice by a 
 tall man dressed in black, — with a pale face, bright 
 eyes, frowning brows, and reddish hair thrown back 
 from his forehead, — were addressed to a child four 
 years old, sitting stark naked on his mother's knees. 
 The child, alarmed at the terrible black man and 
 willing to obey him, suddenly became motionless as 
 a statue ; so that a painter who sat before a large 
 easel painting a " Sacra Famiglia," almost out of 
 patience, was enabled to proceed with the drawing 
 of his infant Jesus in comparative comfort. 
 
 The scene was the studio of Fabre; the man in 
 black was Vittorio Alfieri ; and I myself the child, 
 then known as Mammoliuo. 
 
THE COUNTESS u'ALBANY. 79 
 
 The picture was intended for Montpellier, and, 
 as far as I know, is sti^l in a church there, which is 
 accordingly enriched with my portrait. I should 
 like to know if any ex-votos have been hung before it. 
 
 This incident is one of the first of which I have 
 any distinct recollection. 
 
 I also remember that I frequently went to the 
 house of Madame d'Albany. I was taken there 
 every Sunday morning, and the Countess heard me 
 repeat the verses I had learnt during the week, — a 
 recital which was immediately followed by its re- 
 ward. I fancy I stiU see the ample and portly figure 
 of that celebrated woman, all in white, with a large 
 muslin _/ic/iM a la Maris Antoinette, standing on a chair 
 in order to reach the box of bonbons which stood on 
 the highest shelf of her bookcase. 
 
 After the sugar-plums, a pencil and drawing- 
 paper were given me ; and I remember (precious 
 memory I) one sketch in which I tried to represent 
 the Grecian fleet setting sail for Troy. This com- 
 position met with great applause ; so that, if I never 
 became either a great poet or a great painter, it was 
 not for want of a Maecenas nor of precocious encour- 
 agement. 
 
 Shortly afterwards, the Countess organised chil- 
 dren's parties every Saturday evening. My brothers 
 and I used to meet the Balbos, the Ricasohs of Ponte 
 
80 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 alia Carraja, the Antinoris, with their sister, a re- 
 splendent beauty, the future wife of Einuccini and 
 mother of the present Marchionesses of Lajatico and 
 Trivulzio. The Torrigianis, Santinis, Delborgos, and 
 Pries, also used to come. If I close my eyes, I can 
 see the whole scene as clearly as if it had been yes- 
 terday, — the great mantelpiece opposite the windows 
 by which Madame d' Albany always sat in her arm- 
 chair, dressed a la Marie Antoinette. I still see two 
 pictures by Fabre — one representing the ghost of 
 Samuel appearing to Saul and the Witch of Endor, 
 the other a subject taken from Pompeii — on the 
 walls ; the round arched windows looking on the 
 Arno, with their three steps upon which I used to 
 sit and enjoy an ice and two cakes, the rations the 
 countess assigned to us children. I still see my 
 father in close conference with M. Lagensverd the 
 Swedish Minister, Carletti, and Libri. I see, and I 
 might almost say I feel, the two large sofas which 
 stood on either side under the pictures, with their 
 white-and-gold frames and red-morocco covers ; for 
 the two yoimgest Delborgo girls, who were always 
 accustomed to tease me in every possible way, used 
 to seat me on a sofa, which one withdrew while 
 the other held my legs, so that I fell anywhere 
 but on my feet. These two young ladies subse- 
 quently became the Marchionesses Passalacqua and 
 
ALFIEKl's NI&HTLT EXCUESIONS. 81 
 
 Pampara. May posterity judge between them and 
 me! 
 
 Thanks to the autobiography of Alfieri, to the 
 erudite research of certain collectors of scandalous, 
 gossip, and to the little care then taken to conceal 
 frailties either masculine or feminine, we are as 
 familiar with the figures of AMeri and the Countess 
 d'Albany as if the house in which they lived together 
 had been made of glass, according to the wish of an 
 ancient philosopher; and with theirs is inevitably 
 coupled that of Fabre the painter, who succeeded to 
 a heart which, agreeably to the habits of that period, 
 more especially in the higher ranks, seemed quite un- 
 able to lie fallow. 
 
 It is therefore no violation of domestic privacy 
 to add a few more particulars to that already famous 
 piece of gossip. 
 
 Every evening at nine o'clock Count Alfieri paid 
 a visit to a lady with a French name, which I have 
 forgotten. "Was she a rival of the countess ? "Was 
 this a pretext or an excuse for the intimacy of the 
 latter with Fabre ? Heaven only knows ! ^ 
 
 When he came home at night, woe to the servant 
 who, after admitting him, bolted the door while he 
 was within earshot. " I am already slave enough," 
 he cried ; " but I wUl not hear myself locked up 
 like a prisoner !" ♦ 
 
 VOL. I. ^ 
 
82 MY EECOLLEdTIONS. 
 
 My aunt, the Marchioness Prie, was a charming 
 woman, very clever and active, thoroughly accus- 
 tomed to society and politics, and so bitter an 
 opponent of French innovations that Napoleon 
 deemed it prudent to silence her, and sent her to 
 the fortress of Fenestrelle.* My aunt, many years 
 after, told me in her amusing way : "I had long 
 since discovered the intrigue of the Countess and 
 Fabre, and mentioned it to Madame Santini, who 
 told me I was mad. The Count's tragedies used to 
 be acted in his own house, and he was one of the 
 performers. At one of these entertainments I and 
 my friend were sitting in the front row : on my left, 
 among a crowd of men, was Fabre, leaning against 
 the doorway. He seemed to have his eyes fixed on 
 me, and every now and then he raised his hand to 
 his lips. ' What on earth does he mean ?' said I to 
 myself. At last an idea flashed upon me; .... I 
 glanced to my right, and whom did I see but the 
 Countess ! Ha, ha ! I understand. I whispered to 
 Madame Santini, ' Look ! Am I a visionary ?' and 
 she too saw Fabre ogling the comitess, and kissing a 
 ring he had on his finger. 
 
 " When poor Vittorio died, the Coimtess was in 
 
 * A strong fortress about twenty -five miles north-east of 
 Turin, wliioh defends the passes leading into France. It has 
 often been used as a state-prison. 
 
A LAST VISIT. 83 
 
 despair ; but Fabre knew what lie was about. He 
 collected aU the keys of the deceased, and gave them 
 to her," &c. 
 
 The intimacy of these two lasted as long as they 
 lived; and, to finish their history as far as I am 
 concerned with it, I must now add, that gratitude 
 for the primitive sugar-plums induced me to visit 
 the Countess whenever I passed through Florence. I 
 used also to go and see Fabre, in acknowledgment 
 of my apotheosis. I sometimes found him suffering 
 from gout, and the Countess nursing him, sitting 
 beside his bed. But their tempers became gradually 
 soured; I know not whether through political dif- 
 ferences, old age, or from displeasure at the sight 
 of. my blooming youth. My visits therefore became 
 few and far between, and the following catastrophe 
 put an end to them altogether : 
 
 The Countess d' Albany still received, I believe, 
 the diplomatic body, and also the Slite of the foreign 
 and Florentine society, every Saturday. My friends, 
 the brothers Eobilant, had just arrived from Turin, 
 and I was to introduce them one night to the Coun- 
 tess. But on that evening we were tempted to go to 
 the Pergola. In my eagerness to make matters 
 easy, I proposed paying our visit after the the- 
 atre. But we did not arrive at her house till the 
 party was breaking up. I put the best face I could 
 
84 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 on the matter, and bravely presented my friends. 
 The Countess, scarcely deigning to bestow on us 
 a distant nod, and turning away, said aloud to 
 Prince Borghese, " A quelle lieure viennent ces mes- 
 sieurs /" 
 
 We drew back thunderstruck, and took refage 
 among the few remaining guests. Fortunately 1 
 perceived Count Castellalfero, the Sardinian envoy 
 in Tuscany, a courteous old man of the world and 
 an accomplished diplomatist, who bore no malice to- 
 wards youth because he was no longer young him- 
 self. 
 
 I drew near and addressed him. Being a gala 
 evening, he wore his embroidered uniform, covered 
 with stars and ribbons. As usual, he received me 
 with the utmost cordiality. My equanimity being 
 somewhat restored by his kindness, I conceived, alas, 
 the imlucky idea of taking an ice from a tray close 
 at hand. It was in the shape of a peach, and there- 
 fore round and hard as a stone. I was just oppo- 
 site the Count ; and no sooner did I attack my ice 
 with a small spoon than it bomiced on to his broad 
 ribbon like a cherry-stone, then fell upon the carpet, 
 and rolled to the very feet of Madame d' Albany 
 herself! 
 
 I still feel the terror with which I fled : and this 
 was my last visit to the Countess. 
 
EOBA METASTASIAITA ! 85 
 
 My father, who had the precious gift of activity, 
 and hated the dolce far niente (woe betide us, even 
 as children, if ever he found us unemployed !), spent 
 his time of forced leisure in study. He edited a 
 newspaper called L'Ape (the bee), which dealt with 
 moral and literary subjects, and was both popular 
 and successful. He published a pamphlet entitled 
 Trattenimenti alV Elceto, and several other literary 
 or political and controversial essays, always with a 
 view of making himself useful, and not disdaining to 
 accomplish a little good when he was prevented from 
 doing greater things. 
 
 This is an example young men would do weU to 
 treasure up and emulate in these days of perpetual 
 and open war between good and evil. He even on 
 one occasion addressed a sonnet to Alfieri, to thank 
 him for I know not what. Alfieri appreciated the 
 attention, and condescended to correct the verses ; a 
 great favour only to be obtained by his most intimate 
 friends. He also corrected another poetical compo- 
 sition by my father, who told me that it ended with 
 some lines in the style of Metastasio; and when 
 Count Vittorio came to them, he flung the paper on 
 the table, sajang "i2o&a Mefastasiana !" In truth, 
 to have found Italy Metastasian, and to have left her 
 Alfierian, is one of the chief glories of that noble soul. 
 
 But to me it seems his first and chief merit lies 
 
86 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 in the discovery of Italy, one may almost say, as 
 Columbus discovered America, and to have been the 
 first to awaken the idea of an Itahan nation. I esteem 
 this grand tliought far above his verses and trage- 
 dies. In point of style, and of accuracy and felicity 
 of expression, he was far inferior to the imperial, 
 poet he so much despised ; and if the latter erred 
 thi-ough over softness, was not Alfieri perhaps too 
 hard ? This reminds me of a sonnet written in Pied- 
 montese, in which he rebuts this accusation. And 
 to be impartial, I quote the last line, the only one I 
 can now call to mind. After having dwelt upon the 
 charge of harshness brought against him by his 
 equals, the nobles of Turin, he concludes by saying, 
 it remains to be seen, 
 
 " Se m' i 6onn dur, o s' i se voui d' polenta I" 
 " If I be hard, or soit polenta* ye I" 
 
 As 1 have revived the accusation, it might be 
 as well for me to examine my conscience, and see 
 whether the retort is not applicable to myself. 
 
 Another anecdote I remember may interest the 
 reader, relating as it does to so illustrious a man, 
 
 Alfieri was one day reading aloud to my parents 
 his tragedies oi Alceste a.ni Myrrha. The first drew 
 
 * In the Piedmontese dialect the word polenta (the well-known 
 favourite dish of northern Italy, made of the flour of Indian corn) 
 is used to convey the idea of extreme softness. 
 
VENUS' VENGEANCE. 87 
 
 many tears from my mother's eyes, but the second 
 won for its author a still greater compliment, the 
 truth and importance of which he knew how to 
 value. My mother, whose reading had been con- 
 fined to books chosen by my father, so as to prevent 
 her ever being shocked by the slightest immodest al- 
 lusion, had never heard the history of Myrrha.* (And 
 I must confess I have always thought it very odd 
 that classic scholars should attempt to make us en- 
 dure anything so infamous disguised as the vengeance 
 of Venus, when nowadays we believe but in one 
 revenge of the goddess, which, by the by, is in no 
 way a fitting subject for tragedy.) While Alfieri 
 continued reading, first one act, then a second, 
 then a third, my mother looked in blank surprise at 
 her husband and at Alfieri, uttering exclamations of 
 wonder, as if to ask, " But what can it be? What 
 
 * Alfieri took his subject from the fable of Myrrha, daughter 
 of Cinyras, king of Cyprus. In revenge for some slight, Venus 
 inspired her with a passion for her own father, who, being in- 
 formed of it, attempted to kill her. Myrrha fled to Arabia, and 
 was changed into the tree ■which bears her name. Alfieri has 
 somewhat altered the primitive fable in his tragedy, which is 
 considered one of his masterpieces ; for in spite of the monstrosity 
 of the subject, the language throughout is so chaste, that the 
 dreadful mystery is not revealed till the end, when the unhappy 
 daughter betrays herself in a paroxysm of despair. To have made 
 this subject fit for the stage is a real tour deforce, in which, how- 
 ever, the great Alfieri succeeded. Myrrha is one of the parts in 
 which Madame Ristori most excels. 
 
0» MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 does the woman mean?" And it was only at the 
 end, when Myrrha exclaims, 
 
 " Oh madre mia felice ! . . . almen concesso 
 A lei sari . . . di morire . . . al tuo fianco." 
 
 " How fortunate my mother ! . . . she at least, 
 Press'd In thy arms . . . may breathe . . . her latest sigh !"* 
 
 that she understood the mystery which the author 
 intended to conceal througliout the play until that 
 moment. Alfieri was in the seventh heaven ; and it 
 was certainly a satisfaction to his self-love, and a 
 genuine tribute to his genius. 
 
 There was but one point of difference between 
 my father and Count Alfieri : they could not think 
 alike on religion. Everyone knows the ideas of 
 Alfieri on this subject, and those who have kindly 
 borne me company so far are also acquainted with 
 those of my father. Neither of them were men in- 
 cKned to make concessions, and they therefore tacitly 
 avoided uselessly discussing a question which has 
 sown so much discord and caused so much cruelty 
 and intolerance, from the ds^s of Christ down to 
 our own. 
 
 But sincere and ardent faith has a natural tend- 
 ency to proselytism, otherwise it would be illogical. 
 At home my father mourned over the moral con- 
 
 * TSIyrrha, act t. scene 2. Translated by Charles Lloyd, Esq. 
 London, 1815. 
 
FIFTEEN WIGS. 89 
 
 dition of his friend, which he regretted the more 
 because he had no power to alter it My parents 
 were not alone in their distress, which was shared 
 by all our little colony of exiles, and especially by 
 the ladies, as being more pions and compassionate. 
 
 This deyont little cirde was one day startled by 
 great news, which filled eyeryone Trith joyful sur- 
 prise. The Marchioness Prie had a danghtei", Cle- 
 mentina, afterwards married to the Marquis Incontri, 
 and mother of the present Marquis Attilio. One 
 morning in Easter-week she came home from church, 
 where sLe had been to take the sacrament, and found 
 her mother at breakfiist wi<h her two sons, Curtius 
 and Demetrius (the former died young: the latter 
 was afterwards implicated in the Beyolution of 18i?l, 
 and was celebrated for the device of wearing fifteen 
 wigs to simulate the growth of the hair*), and some 
 
 * I well remember lius gentleman and Ms fifteen beanti- 
 tal Tvigs. each of wMch was a trifle longer iban the oflier : he 
 pnt thon on in tnni. and on the sixtieenth day brought out the 
 shortest again, to make beHeTe his hair had been cut. He -was 
 qnite a bean of the old school ; and as there are so many Fied- 
 montee quotations in this boot, perhaps the reader will pardon 
 one more to oomplete the portndt of Marquis Bemetrins. Bming 
 the reTolntion of 1521 he one day leoeiTed an oTation in the 
 streets of Turm, and soma people near him eren wanted to em- 
 teace him. Our dandy was in a dilemTna between his popolarity 
 aajd anxiety ftH* his shirt-frill : and after a moment^s hesitation 
 he said, " Baseme, huteme^ ma fporchemf aenr' — that is, "Em- 
 brace me if Ton lifcp ; but, fer goodness' sake, do not sofl me !" 
 
90 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 other friends. I am not sure if my father was pre- 
 sent, but I almost think so. At all events, he related 
 the anecdote, so that it is certainly authentic. 
 
 " Signora madre," said Clementina, as she took 
 off her veil, " only think who received the sacrament 
 with me this morning, — Count Alfieri was next me 
 at the altar-rails !" 
 
 The joy and the surpi-ise of those good people 
 may easily be imagined ; and, to say the truth, I am 
 astounded myself when I think of it; so much so 
 that, it being impossible to doubt my father's word, 
 I am almost afraid Clementina made some mistake. 
 However, nothing is impossible ; and it is at least 
 certain that if Alfieri had once determined to take 
 the sacrament, he was a man to do so in the teeth of 
 the Encyclopedists, with Voltaire at their head. And 
 this is the advantage of having a strong mind. 
 
 In the last short illness of Alfieri, Father Cano- 
 vai, of the Scuole Pie, was summoned to visit him. 
 Afraid of so great a responsibility, he went first to 
 the archbishop to know what he was to do. This 
 delay proved fatal, and when Father Canovai at last 
 went into the sick-room, he saw the poet bow his 
 head. The priest thought it was a sign of welcome ; 
 but, alas, it was the death of Vittorio Alfieri ; so my 
 father used to tell me. 
 
 I find in the manuscript the following words on 
 
DEATH OF ALFIERI. 91 
 
 this point : " It was an immense sorrow to Cesare to 
 find himself in the death-chamber of Vittorio Alfieri, 
 and not venture, even at the last moment, to testify 
 the true Christian friendship he had for him, and 
 which would undoubtedly have been a source of 
 eternal gratitude to Alfieri. But .... the judgments 
 of God are inscrutable !" 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 Details of education — Matilda and I — Bad health of our mother 
 — Theory of my parents on primary education — They did not 
 flatter us — We were taught endurance — Children's rights — 
 Liberty consists in obedience — Respectful criticism — Anec- 
 dotes — It snows on the soup — Galateo — Reform of Italian 
 conversation — On my knees to Giacolin — Accustomed to pain 
 — I break my arm — "Warnings — How I used to be awoke — 
 Abate Lena — Serpent-hunting — Unmerited ovation — ^Woods at 
 night — Meritorious action — I possess a carriage — A generous 
 gift — La Eochefouoauld and the Gospel — Mock Christian 
 civilisation. 
 
 Being now compelled to relinquish the service of 
 his king and country, my father devoted his most 
 earnest thoughts to the education- of his children. 
 The Tolomei college at Siena had a good reputation, 
 and my three elder brothers, Roberto, Prospero, and 
 Enrico, were sent there ; I, being too young, stayed 
 at home. My sister Melania was at Turin with my 
 grandmother ; and Matilde went to school at Ripoli, 
 whence she returned soon after to live with us again. 
 The daughter of the Chevalier Biscarra was engaged 
 as her governess and companion. She was called 
 Teresa, and afterwards married one of the Rime- 
 diottis. She is living still, and is my oldest friend ; 
 
CHILDHOOD. 9 
 
 for T have never forgotten her affectionate care of 
 me when a child. 
 
 The entire attention of my parents was thus de- 
 voted to my sister and myself. She had a very quiet 
 and sweet temper. Mine was passionate, but I 
 must say equally good. Neither then nor for many 
 years after did I know what it was to feel spite 
 against anyone ; nor should I have ever felt it, I 
 believe, had it not been for those confouiaded poli- 
 tics. I may, however, venture to affirm that if these 
 latter have sometimes been a source of much bitter- 
 ness and indignation, thanks to those who convert 
 Italy into a field for the indulgence of their avarice, 
 cupidity, ambition, and vanity, it is equally true — 
 and this I can declare in all sincerity — that I have 
 never personally hated any human being. Those 
 who might have aroused the feeling have not been 
 wanting. 
 
 But I claim no merit for this ; such as I am I 
 was formed by Providence. 
 
 Neither of us being intractable, things at home 
 proceeded very smoothly ; and though Matilde was 
 five years older than I, we lived in perfect harmony 
 and peace. 
 
 "Only one circumstance disttu-bed the happiness 
 of our family ; and this was the precarious state of 
 my mother's health. The vicissitudes of fortune had 
 
94 MT EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 been too mucli for an organisation so sensitive and 
 so frail. Her nerves — shattered from the first — never 
 recovered tone ; she was subject to strange and in- 
 explicable phenomena. At times she had fits and 
 hallucinations ; at others, cramps and nervous con- 
 vulsions ; then for months she would be unable to 
 utter a word, and be obhged to speak by signs like 
 the dumb. The slightest noise often caused her in- 
 tense suffering, and anything that accidentally shook 
 the room produced the same painful effect. She 
 could not, therefore, give much attention to our in- 
 struction ; but fortunately for us such a mother never 
 failed to impart to her children, by precept and ex- 
 ample, a still more precious gift, — the education of 
 the heart, and the right direction of their affection 
 and impulses. 
 
 Both our parents had too much good sense to fall 
 into the error so common in those parents who under- 
 take the education of their children, viz. that of 
 studying their own vanity or convenience instead of 
 the good of their pupils. I was never subjected to 
 any of those domestic tortures to which, through 
 maternal vanity, those unhappy children intended 
 to act the laborious part of enfants prodiges are so 
 often condemned. Excepting a few lines of Ossita, 
 learnt willingly with the prospect before me of Sun- 
 day bonbons, I never recollect being asked to recite 
 
I WAS NOT SPOILT. 9 
 
 anything before the visitors who came to see mj pa- 
 rents. I was never dressed up in any of those uncom- 
 fortable Highland or Zouave suits; nor did I wear 
 smart hats or fanciful boots. Moreover, my father 
 and mother never encouraged my personal vanity; 
 nor did I hear them say, " Quanta sei hellino! 
 quanta sei carina !" or the like flattering expressions. 
 And yet — with my present fascinating appearance I 
 may say it — I believe I was a very pretty child. 
 Children pay much greater attention to what is said 
 than people imagine ; and I recoUect that by strangers 
 I was paid a thousand compliments and smothered 
 with kisses and caresses ; all of course very delightful 
 to me. 
 
 My dear parents' foremost wish was to make a 
 man of me. They knew that education must begin 
 with the dawn of life ; that it must grow with the 
 growth and strengthen with the strength; that the 
 germ of the future man lies in the first impressions 
 of childhood ; and that adulation and incitement to 
 pride and vanity, though they may be a mistaken 
 form of parental atfection, are in fact the worst of 
 lessons for the child, and the most baneful in their 
 results. They also knew well that the mind of youth 
 is a tablet from which no line once graven can ever 
 after be effaced. 
 
 They never, therefore, admired or flattered me. 
 
96 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 lest I should become conceited and presumptuous ; 
 they never adorned me with finery, so as to prevent 
 my falling into that most absm-d vanity — for a man 
 especially — of pluming myself on my looks. Nor 
 did they enervate me by excessive care and perpetual 
 admonitions, such as " Mind ! you may fall ! you 
 may hm-t yourself!" And if by chance I did knock 
 my head, they did not betray any over-anxiety or 
 compassion, only saying, not harshly, but with an 
 affectionate smile, " There, there, 'tis soon over !" 
 One day, as I was crying after a slight hurt, my 
 mother said, "Take care! if your inside finds the 
 hole, it will make its escape." Ashamed of being 
 laughed at, pride soon dried my tears. 
 
 In a word, the aim of my parents was to prepare 
 me for the warfare of life, such as it really becomes 
 in after years. And this usefiil training consists 
 mainly in acquiring a habit of self-sacrifice, and in 
 learning how to suffer. 
 
 Verily, if the excess of affection which leads 
 parents to spoil their children were not in itself a 
 touching excuse, what bitter reproaches might fall 
 on those parents who enervate their sons by a child- 
 hood of luxury and indulgence, — those who, Imowing 
 the while that they must one day have to endure 
 both burning heat and biting frost,^ — knowing also 
 that, in after hfe, they must ere long brave, alike 
 
children's rights. 97 
 
 misfortunes'^ delusions, and the inexorable calls of 
 honour and duty, yet never dream of forearming 
 them against suffering. It should be Hkewise borne 
 in mind that even children have natm-al rights, and 
 that they may claim not to be corrupted, deceived, 
 or misled. 
 
 They have a right not to be sacrificed to a mis- 
 placed and pernicious tenderness. They have a 
 right to be led by the shortest and surest road to 
 that moral and material well-being which constitutes, 
 so to speak, their capital in life, which is a direct 
 gift of Providence ; no good being possible to man 
 if he is not accustomed to suffer as well as to obey 
 when duiy or necessiiy requires it. 
 
 Now, of all blessings, which is the first and fore- 
 most? To be a free and honest man. We must 
 obey the moral law to be the latter; the pohtical 
 and civil law to be the former. Can this be done 
 without sacrifice, without suffering, more or less ? 
 
 I know but too well that in Italy my definition 
 of liberty as consisting in obedience is now not uni- 
 versally accepted. On the contrary, the opposite 
 idea is afloat, viz. that liberty consists in disobey- 
 ing every law. This error is excusable up to a 
 certain point. A violent reaction necessarily suc- 
 ceeded the long and odious despotism of the past. 
 But to fall from one despotism into another does 
 
 VOL. I. ^ 
 
98 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 not solve the problem, and it is impo^ible to be 
 free, strong, or independent until law reigns ia 
 place of tbe arbitrary wiU either of a tyrant or of 
 the mob. 
 
 The seeds of this manly obedience must be sown 
 in early life. By the law of Nature, children must 
 obey and not question. I defy any parent to an- 
 swer every question of his child otherwise than by 
 the words. Because I say it ! This authority must, 
 however, be maintained in the minds of the young 
 by profound respect and veneration for their parents. 
 It is therefore quite a mistake to adopt the modern 
 system of allowing children to treat their fathers 
 and mothers on terms of equality, to let them ex- 
 press an opinion whenever they please, and ask the 
 reason of everything. There is no equahty between 
 a man and a child, between the father and his son. 
 Any apparent equality allowed to exist is one whoUy 
 unfounded in truth. In matters of education, as in 
 politics, both the old despotism and modern license 
 are a direct result of cause and effect. WiU ex- 
 perience ever point out a rational medium ? Let us 
 hope so. 
 
 In my opinion my parents had almost discovered 
 this middle path. I wiU explain why I say almost. 
 
 In spite of my profound veneration for my father, 
 I think I may be allowed humbly to express my 
 
STRICT EDUCATIONAL RULES. 99 
 
 doubts with regard to some of his acts and opinions. 
 Moreover, were I to abstain altogether jfrom criti- 
 cism, my praise would be worth nothing. 
 
 I shall, therefore, state that in carrying out his 
 excellent system of authority, he sometimes gave 
 way to his hasty and impetuous temper; and this, 
 added to the perpetual mistrust of his own heart, 
 which I have already mentioned, occasionally be- 
 trayed him into the opposite extreme, and he was 
 then, perhaps, over harsh with us. But I thank 
 him even for this fault; a hundred times better 
 such temporary severity than the permanency of the 
 opposite system. In every way and in all cases 
 there is no worse rule than a weak one. 
 
 These were the principles my parents followed in 
 our education. A few anecdotes may serve to il- 
 lustrate them. Though childish and trivial at the 
 first glance, they are not so when we consider the 
 importance and diificulty of guiding children aright 
 from the beginning ; and if these pages could in any 
 degree facihtate the task of those who are to suc- 
 ceed us, my warmest wish would be attained. 
 
 The distribution of our daily occupations was 
 strictly laid down for Matilde and me in black and 
 white, and these rules were not to be broken with 
 impunity. We were thus accustomed to habits of 
 order, and never to make anybody wait for our con- 
 
100 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 venience ; a fault which is one of the most troublesome 
 that can be committed either by great people or small. 
 
 I remember one day that Matilda, having gone 
 out with Teresa, came home when we had been 
 at dinner some time. It was winter, and snow was 
 falling. The two culprits sat down a httle confused, 
 and their soup was brought them in two plates, 
 which had been kept hot ; but can you guess where ? 
 On the balcony ; so that the contents were not only 
 below freezing-point, but actually had a thick cover- 
 ing of snow ! 
 
 At dinner, of course my sister and I sat per- 
 fectly silent, waiting our turn, without right of peti- 
 tion or remonstrance. As to the other proprieties 
 of behaviour, such as neatness, and not being noisy 
 or boisterous, we knew well that the slightest infrac- 
 tion would have entailed banishment for the rest of 
 the day at least. Our great anxiety was to eclipse 
 ourselves as much as possible ; and I assure you that 
 mider this system we never fancied ourselves the 
 central points of importance round which all the 
 rest of the world was to revolve — an idea which, 
 thanks to absurd indulgence and flattery, is often 
 forcibly thrust, I may say, into poor little brains, 
 which, if left to themselves, would never have lost 
 their natural simplicity. 
 
CODE OF POLITENESS. 101 
 
 The lessons of Galateo* were not enforced at din- 
 ner only. Even at other times we were forbidden to 
 raise our voices or interrupt the conversation of our 
 elders, still more to quarrel with each other. If some- 
 times as we went to dinner I rushed forward before 
 Matilde, my father would take me by the arm, and 
 make me come last, saying, " There is no need to 
 be uncivil because she is your sister." The old gene- 
 ration in many parts of Italy have the habit of 
 shouting and raising their voices as if their inter- 
 locutor were deaf, interrupting him as if he had no 
 right to speak, and poking him in the ribs and 
 otherwise, as if he could only be convinced by sensa- 
 tions of bodily pain. The regulations observed in 
 my family were, therefore, by no means superfluous ; 
 and would to Heaven they were universally adopted 
 as the law of the land ! 
 
 On another occasion my excellent motlier gave 
 me a lesson of humility, which I shall never forget, 
 any more than the place where I received it. 
 
 In the open part of the Cascine,t which was once 
 used as a racecourse, to the right of the space where 
 
 * Galateo is the title of a celebrated treatise on good man- 
 ners, by Monsignor della Casa, Archbishop of Beueventum (1544), 
 and Secretary of State to Paul IV. ; and his work is still so popu- 
 lar that a "lesson of Galateo" to this day means a lesson of 
 politeness. 
 
 f The Florentine Hyde Park. 
 
102 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 the carriages stand, there is a walk alongside the 
 wood. I was walking there one day with my mo- 
 ther, followed by an old servant, a countryman of 
 Pylades, less heroic than the latter, but a very good 
 fellow too. I forget why, but I raised a little cane 
 I had in my hand and I am afraid I struck him. 
 My mother, before all the passers-by, obliged me 
 to kneel down and beg his pardon. I can still see 
 poor Giacolin* taking off his hat with a face of utter 
 bewilderment, quite imable to comprehend how it 
 was that the Chevalier Massimo Taparelli d'Azeglio 
 came to be at his feet. 
 
 An indifference to bodily pain was another of 
 the precepts most carefully instilled by our father, 
 and as usual the lesson was made more impres- 
 sive by example whenever an opportunity presented 
 itself. If, for instance, we complained of any slight 
 pain or accident, our father used to say, half in fun, 
 half in earnest : " When a Piedmontese has both 
 his arms and legs broken, and has received two 
 sword-thrusts in the body, he may be allowed to 
 say, but not till then, ' Really, I almost think I am 
 not quite well.' " 
 
 The moral authority he had acquired over me 
 was so great that in no case would I have dis- 
 
 * The Piedmontese diminutive for Giacomo. 
 
A PIEDMONTESE TEAmiNG. 103 
 
 obeyed Mm, even had lie ordered me to jump out 
 of window. 
 
 I recollect that when my first tooth was drawn, 
 I was in an agony of fright as we went to the 
 dentist, but outwardly I was brave enough, and tried 
 to seem as indifferent as possible. On another occa- 
 sion my childish courage and also my father's firm- 
 ness were put to a more serious test. He had hired 
 a house called the Villa BiUi, which stands about 
 half a mile fi:om San Domenico di Fiesole, on the 
 right winding up towards the hiU. Only two years 
 ago I visited the place, and found the same family 
 of peasants stiU there, and my two old playmates, 
 Nando and Sandro — who had both become even 
 greater fogies than myself, and we had a hearty chat 
 together about bygone times. 
 
 Whilst Hving at this villa, our father was ac- 
 customed to take us out for long walks, which were 
 the subject of special regulations. We were strictly 
 forbidden to ask, " Have we stiU far to go?" — 
 "What o'clock is it?" or to say, "I am thirsty; 
 I am hungry; I am tired;" but in everything else 
 we had fuU liberty of speech and action. Returning 
 from one of these excursions, we one day found 
 ourselves below Oastel di Poggio, a rugged stony 
 path leading towards Vincigliata. 
 
 In one hand I had a nosegay of wild flowers, 
 
104' MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 gathered by the way, and in the other a stick, when 
 I happened to stumble, and fell awkwardly. My 
 father sprang forward to pick me up, and seeing that 
 one arm pained me, he examined it and found that 
 in fact the bone was broken below the elbow. AU 
 this time my eyes were fixed upon him, and I could 
 see his countenance change, and assume such an 
 expression of tenderness and anxiety that he no 
 longer appeared to be the same man. He bound 
 up my arm as well as he could, and we then con- 
 tinued our way homewards. After a few moments, 
 during which my father had resumed his usual calm- 
 ness, he said to me : 
 
 " Listen, Mammolino ; your mother is not well. 
 If she knows you are hurt, it will make her worse. 
 You must be brave, my boy; to-morrow morning 
 we will go to Florence, where all that is needful can 
 be done for you ; but this evening you must not 
 show you are in pain. Do you understand?" 
 
 All this was said with his usual firmness and au- 
 thority, but also with the greatest affection. I was 
 only too glad to have so important and difficult a task 
 intrusted to me. The whole evening I sat quietly in 
 a corner, supporting my poor little broken arm as 
 best I could, and my mother only thought me tired 
 by the long walk, and had no suspicion of the truth. 
 
 The next day I was taken to Florence, and my 
 
A BOON FOB ITALY. 105 
 
 arm was set ; but to complete the cure I had to be 
 sent to the Baths of Vinadio a few years afterwards. 
 Some people may, in this instance, think my father 
 was cruel. I remember the fact as if it were but 
 yesterday, and I am sure such an. idea never for 
 one moment' entered my mind. The expression of 
 ineffable tenderness which I had read in his eyes had 
 so delighted me, it seemed so reasonable to avoid 
 alarming my mother, that I looked on the hard 
 task allotted me as a fine opportunity of displaying 
 my courage. I did so because I had not been spoilt, 
 and good principles had been early implanted within 
 me ; and now that I am an old man and have known 
 the world, I bless the severity of my father ; and I 
 could wish every ItaHan child might have one like 
 him, and derive more profit than I did; in thirty 
 years' time, Italy would then be the first of nations. 
 
 Moreover, it is a fact that children are much 
 more observant than is commonly supposed, and 
 never regard as hostile a just but afi'ectionate se- 
 verity, I have always seen them disposed to prefer 
 persons who keep them in order to those who con- 
 stantly yield to their caprices ; and soldiers are just 
 the same in this respect. 
 
 The following is another example to prove that 
 my father did not deserve to be called cruel : 
 
 He thought it a bad practice to awaken children 
 
106 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 suddenly, or to let their sleep be abruptly disturbed. 
 If we had to rise early for a journey, he would 
 come to my bedside and softly hum a popular song, 
 two lines of which still ring in my ears : 
 
 " Chi vuol veder 1' aurora 
 Lasoi le molli piume." 
 
 " He who the early dawn would view 
 Downy pillows must eschew." 
 
 And by gradually raising his voice, he woke me 
 without the slightest start. In truth, with all his 
 severity. Heaven knows how I loved him. 
 
 When the opportunity offered he never failed to 
 show me his approbation ; sometimes even more than 
 I deserved. At the Baths of Lucca, where my family 
 went more than once, we lived at the house of a 
 certain Abate Lena. He was a very eccentric per- 
 son, tall and thin, and used to wear a kind of im- 
 couth flowing garment, covered with a large flower 
 pattern. No sort of difficulty ever stopped him; 
 and many years afterwards he took a fancy to go 
 to Paris. He owned a kind of crazy old gig, with 
 one horse, in which he seated himself, and set off 
 on his journey. On his way through Turin he 
 stayed with us to rest himself and his beast, and 
 then jogged on all alone as before. Many months 
 afterwards he reappeared with the same equipage, 
 which finally conveyed him home. 
 
A SNAKE-HXJUT. 107 
 
 At the Baths of Lucca there are a great many- 
 snakes; they are harmless, but troublesome, as they 
 often crawl into the rooms. One evening, being 
 in a little orchard adjoining our house, I saw some 
 of these reptiles, and seizing a stick I kiUed several 
 of them. There was, however, no great merit in 
 this achievement, for at that age (six or seven) I 
 had no idea that snakes were venomous, or that their 
 bite might be fatal ; and as for the feeling of horror 
 they inspire in many people, 1 never felt it either 
 at that time or in later years, so that I showed no 
 great courage in slaughtering them. 
 
 I was therefore greatly elated when, on bringing 
 my trophies to my father and my two uncles Osasco, 
 both veteran oflScers, who were with him, the latter 
 hailed my victory with loud acclamations. My father 
 too praised me, though with more moderation; and 
 my reputation for bravery was thus cheaply bought, 
 as often happens, and not only to children. 
 
 One of the chief objects of my father was to 
 impress not only on me, but also on Matilde, how 
 shameful a thing is fear; and still more so any 
 display of or yielding to its influence. Sometimes 
 he put us to trials adapted to our strength; among 
 other things he would take us both with him into 
 the woods after dark. As everyone knows, the 
 sHades of night impart a gobHn-like appearance to 
 
108 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 trees and rocks, &c., and when he noticed such 
 he would stop and say, " Look if it is not Hke a 
 huge animal, or a devU with his horns !" On such 
 occasions he used to quote the Piedmontese proverb 
 which I have already mentioned, " Fear is made of 
 nothing;" and then, taking us by the hand, he led 
 us up to the spectral appearance, which of course 
 turned out to be nothing unusual. 
 
 But if my victory over the snakes deserved but 
 little praise, I succeeded on another occasion in con- 
 quering myself, and there was some merit in this. 
 
 In every family the elder children are usually 
 overwhelmed with every kind of playthings, which 
 experience proves to be utterly useless ; the younger 
 brothers consequently generally come off badly. I, 
 being the eighth, was never the possessor of a single 
 toy, and was reduced to play with chairs or brooms, 
 or anything I could lay hold of. The only exception 
 to this rule occurred at the Baths of Lucca. Walk- 
 ing in the streets one day, we saw a number of toy- 
 carriages, with one, two, and four horses, in a shop- 
 window, and, in honour of I really know not what 
 saint, I became the owner of one of the humblest of 
 these ; and, never having before possessed anything 
 so splendid, I was in raptures. A son of Count 
 Cinzano used to come and play with me sometimes ; 
 and as he too had not been spoilt with such luxuries 
 
MAGNANIMOUS ACT. 109 
 
 (it must not be forgotten that in those days money- 
 was far from plentiful with any of us), my little 
 carriage made his mouth water, and I saw he was 
 dying to have it. 
 
 I felt such compassion at hearing that he, poor 
 fellow, had nothing to play with, that I gave it 
 him directly, and of course away he ran in ecstasies 
 with my beautiftd carriage. I own I felt rather 
 foolish, and almost repented my rash generosity, 
 until, my parents hearing of it, I soon saw from their 
 demeanotir that I must have done something grand, 
 so much was I petted and caressed. Nor was this 
 all — the next day I was presented with the most 
 magnificent toy-carriage to be found in the shop 
 where the first had been bought. 
 
 This childish piece of self-sacrifice even now ap- 
 pears to me to have been praiseworthy ; and I could 
 never understand why M. de la Rochefoucauld makes 
 so light of pity.* It is true that in his time the 
 sHghtest headache felt by a noble met with attention ; 
 but who felt any sympathy for a manant condemned 
 
 * This is the maxim of La Rochefoucauld to which the author 
 alludes : " La piti§ est souvent un sentiment de nos propres maux 
 dans les maux d'autrui : c'est une habile prSvoyance des malheurs 
 oA nous pouvons tomber. Nous donnons dea secours aux autres, 
 pour les engager k nous en' donner en de semblables occasions ; 
 et ces services que nous leur rendons sont, ^ proprement parler, un 
 bleu que nous nous faisons k nous mSmes par avance." La 
 Rochefoucauld. Maxim oolxxii. 
 
110 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 to the rack ? The pity then in fashion was relative. 
 Yet the Gospel says, " Beati niisericordes ;" and, 
 after all, the Gospel existed even in those days. 
 
 This shows how long men who styled themselves 
 Christians remained in reality worse than pagans. 
 And if, taking this principle for our guide, we 
 examine closely the actual state of society, we might 
 perhaps find that Christian civilisation is even now 
 far from deserving its name. 
 
 Let us take, for instance, one of the great build- 
 ings at Genoa, eight or ten stories high, divided 
 into several apartments, inhabited by as many 
 families. If we saw these apparently peaceful ten- 
 ants always adding bolts, double locks, and iron 
 clamps to their doors, and never coming out on the 
 common staircase unless armed to the teeth with 
 weapons of war, should we say that this community 
 had attained the ideal of Christian civiHsation, even 
 though its members when they met overflowed with 
 protestations of their love and esteem for one ano- 
 ther? 
 
 And is not Europe nowadays in the exact con- 
 dition of such a house ? 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Instruction and education — A new department of state — The 
 porter of the Scolopi Fathers my first tutor — Napoleonic 
 tyranny — Compulsory return — Letter from the King — My 
 father gives in his temporary adhesion to the French Go- 
 vernment — Eetum of the family to Turin — TJa&pected sur- 
 prise — I am raised to the dignity of eavaliere — My grand- 
 mother and her castle — My great-grandmother Da Camino — 
 Ancestress of one hundred and seven individuals — Don An- 
 dreis, the second priest — ^he bothers me too much — ^Another 
 here of a priest — Things go from bad to worse — The blact 
 Virgin of Oropa — St. Ignatius and spiritual exercises — Ano- 
 ther priest — I am guilty of a sonnet. 
 
 As I have entangled myself in a digression, let us 
 see to what conclusion it leads. 
 
 If the aforesaid tenants, who, divided into families, 
 occupy the different floors of the great edifice called 
 Europe, had, as children, found someone who would 
 have devoted himself, not only to their instruction, 
 but also to their training — not only to the cultiva- 
 tion of their intellect, but also to the development 
 of their powers of appreciating what is good and 
 true — does anyone pretend this would not have led 
 to a considerable economy in cast-iron plates, am- 
 
112 MT EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 munition, and artillery, or, still better, in dungeons 
 and scaffolds ? 
 
 I am no Quaker, I do not believe in tbe Eeign 
 of tbe Saints, nor am I a member of tbe Peace 
 Society. Unable to do better, I accept men as tbey 
 are, witb all their seven mortal sins, and I bebeve 
 that there will always be crime, quarrels, and blows 
 among them, more or less. 
 
 But this question of more or less is exactly the 
 point under discussion. I admit that perpetual 
 peace, or the return of the golden age, is a mere 
 dream. But, on the other hand, should he be con- 
 sidered a maniac who endeavours to find some means 
 of diminishing the occasions which give rise to aU 
 those evils that afHict mankind because there is no 
 equilibrium between the culture of their intellect and 
 the education of their heart ? 
 
 Perhaps one of these means would be to add to 
 the Ministry of Public Instruction which now figures 
 in the inventory of every constitutional government 
 another dedicated to Public Education. The first 
 might manufacture philosophers, while the second 
 supplied honest men. 
 
 " But honest men are formed by moral teaching," 
 exclaims the reader. " Morality is part of theology, 
 theology is the science of the priests, and would you 
 confide a department entirely to priests ?" 
 
PUBLIC EDUCATION. 113 
 
 The objection is serious, I know. But let us 
 look at it more closely. 
 
 A department confided to priests is not what I 
 mean, the less so because every Christian nation 
 established one long ago. The teaching of morality 
 is everywhere confided to the clergy. 
 
 Nevertheless, it is now universally admitted that 
 this does not suffice. Men have ceased to heed 
 them. It is therefore needful to find something 
 better, or at least something more. 
 
 Could not the experiment be made, and example 
 ■■be added to precept? I am not speaking only of 
 priests ; nay, I wiU even refrain firom naming them. 
 I have raised my voice against the priests of Rome 
 in times and places where no one else dared do so ; 
 but now that it is considered rather meritorious than 
 otherwise to attack them, I feel inclined to leave 
 them alone. 
 
 Let us, then, abandon this subject; and turn 
 to that of governments of all kinds, without any 
 exception — monarchies and i-epublics, of every form 
 and colour ; nay, stiU more, of every power, includ- 
 ing all sects and factions. 
 
 For once let us speak frankly. Is there a go- 
 vernment on earth which constitutes itself into a 
 ministry of public education (and this should be the 
 true mission of every person in authority), and en- 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
114 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 deavours to promote the moral development of the 
 people by the most potent of all means, that of ex- 
 ample ? Are the actions of those in office on a par 
 with the principles they profess ? Where is the go- 
 vernment, the party, the sect, — in short, the autho- 
 rity of any kind, which fulfils the first and most im- 
 portant of all duties, that of setting a good example 
 to those beneath them ? Montesquieu says : '■'■ 11 y a 
 des mauvais exemples qui sont pires que des crimes, et 
 plus d'dtats out piri parceqvUon a vioM les moeurs, que 
 •parceqv! on a violi les lois.^' 
 
 And without introducing a phihppio against 
 authorities in general, I wiU recall one single fact. 
 Since the Reformation we have often seen princes 
 abjure their own creed to adopt the faith of the 
 country which offered them a crown on this condition. 
 What can the public say? Either you believe in 
 your religion, and in that case you sell your con- 
 science for a throne ; or, you believe in no religion 
 at all, and then you are an ignoble hypocrite to 
 simulate for such a motive a faith you do not possess. 
 Thereby, prince, you teach all those below you 
 that every man's real business in this life is to pro- 
 vide well for himself, and that " Paris vaut bien une 
 niesse." 
 
 How, after this, can you blame those who be- 
 * Orandem' des Remains, chap. viil. 
 
BOAED OF GOOD EXAMPLE. 115 
 
 tray you whenever they find it their interest to do 
 so ? How blame those who feather their own nests 
 as best they can, even at your expense ? 
 
 Let us, then, institute a ministry of moral edu- 
 cation — a ministry which might also be appropri- 
 ately called that of good examples; and let it be 
 administered by a member of the government in- 
 vested with an authority to which men may bow, 
 and which may claim the right of guiding them. 
 Then there might be some prospect of Christian 
 civiKsation, but not before. 
 
 Behold the conclusions to which my little Lucca 
 carriage has led ! Let us now resume the thread of 
 my story. 
 
 My childhood was happily and peacefully spent 
 in fair and pleasant Florence, and for this reason 
 that beautiful city has always seemed more like my 
 native place than Turin. 
 
 On receiving my first lessons in reading and 
 writing, I turned very refractory, and was soon sent 
 to school at the Scolopi Fathers of San Giovannino, 
 in Via Larga ; and my first professor — a very modest 
 one, but quite in keeping with his pupil — ^was the 
 porter of the convent. 
 
 Signer Piaeenti had three pupils, of whom I was 
 one ; and we spent the day in more or less semblance 
 of study. I remember those worthy monks well : 
 
116 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 especially a Father Mauro and a Father Bertinelli, 
 who often gave me sweetmeats and caresses, so 
 that of them I can say nothing but good. But far 
 more profitable was the oral instruction which I 
 received at home ; and here my mind became gra- 
 dually furnished with certain ideas of history, geo- 
 graphy, mythology, and the French language, thanks 
 to the care bestowed on me by my sister's gover- 
 ness, the excellent Teresa Biscarra. 
 
 Whilst my family was living thus quietly and in 
 obscurity ; whilst my father, after having witnessed 
 the fall of what was most dear to him in the world, 
 the independence and dignity of Piedmont, wished 
 only to remain forgotten in his Tuscan retreat, the 
 iron hand of Napoleon, which had smitten the 
 proudest heads of Europe, penetrated even to my 
 father's humbler destiny, and made him feel its 
 weight. 
 
 Napoleon I., as everyone knows, had no predi- 
 lection for imiversal suffrage, and saw no cause 
 why people should choose their own rulers. The 
 Piedmontese (that is, the French inhabitants of 
 Turin) were forbidden to educate their sons abroad. 
 Siena was of course abroad. My father was there- 
 fore obliged to remove his tlu'ee elder sons from 
 the Tolomei College, and bring them home. They 
 pursued their studies under the direction of the 
 
NAPOLEONIC TYRANNY. ' 117 
 
 Fathers of the Scuole Fie. I continued mine with 
 my porter, and our home became more lively and 
 cheerful. The habits of discipHne and good order 
 were not thereby interrupted, but the system was 
 applied to a large number of individuals. 
 
 Meanwhile the north of Europe was witnessing 
 the great episodes of the Napoleonic wars, which 
 were followed by extraordinary alterations of fron- 
 tier, and by strange agglomerations of peoples forced 
 to submit to political unions, contrary to their tra- 
 ditions no less than to their inclinations and in- 
 terests. 
 
 Napoleon I. was not a political genius, and in 
 fact no trace remains of his political work. 
 
 Piedmont was definitively annexed to France, 
 and the first decree, forbidding the education of 
 children abroad, was followed up by another stiU 
 more tyrannical, summoning the new subjects to 
 return home and take the oaths of fealty to their 
 self-imposed master. My father, who was bound by 
 another oath to his king, Victor Emmanuel, then in 
 the island of Sardinia, wrote to him (I am quoting 
 the manuscript), " that he was ready at any moment 
 to devote himself to his service, to share his mis- 
 fortunes, even to forsake his country, wife, and 
 children for ever." 
 
 Meanwhile he left Florence, and went as far as 
 
118 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Parma, where he waited forty days before the ans- 
 wer covJd reach him from Sardinia. 
 
 Victor Emmanuel " replied, in the most gracious 
 manner, and with expressions of deep gratitude, that 
 he was determined not to increase the number of 
 victims of his own calamities. He bade him take 
 the oath exacted, as he would never consent to be 
 the means of separating him from his wife and 
 children, whose youth made them so dependent on 
 the care of such a father ; aU the less as he (the 
 king) was not sure of having even bread for liim- 
 self and his faithful followers." 
 
 This answer, so fuU of sense and feeling, deeply 
 grieved my father, but showed him the path he 
 must follow. He had nobly kept his oath to Ms 
 king and country, and had pursued his course of 
 self-sacrifice till he found it closed against him by 
 an iron wall. 
 
 He remembered his family, went to Turin, and 
 tendered his temporary adhesion to the French Go- 
 vernment. 
 
 Five years later Napoleon I. had reason to know 
 the worth of oaths extorted by violence and unin- 
 spired by free will. Not that my father was one of 
 those who made him perceive it. Under whatever 
 circumstances he had given his word, that word once 
 given was enough. 
 
DEPAETTJEE FEOM FLOEBNCE. 1 19 
 
 The decree fixed a day for the return of the 
 exiles. The time was drawing near, and our mother 
 received a letter from her husband desiring her to 
 come at once with her family to Turin. 
 
 It was the end of December, and our caravan, 
 starting from Casa Pitti Gaddi, our last quarters, 
 left Florence by the Porta San Gallo. We had two 
 cai'riages. In the first were our mother and Ma- 
 tilde ; and in the second, a larger one, we boys 
 were huddled together, in charge of the Abate Moni, 
 of Lucca, recently engaged by my father. In every 
 noble and pious household it was then the custom 
 to have a family chaplain. 
 
 Travelling by the mail-coach is nowadays a relic 
 of antiquity. But at the time I am writing of 
 even this was an unknown luxury; and those who 
 could not afibrd post-horses were obliged to travel 
 by the carriages of Signer PoUastri, with whose 
 fame and that of his mules all Europe had begun 
 to resound. To give an idea of their velocity, I 
 remember that having left Pisa one morning, we 
 reached the Osteria Bianca, near Empoli, in the 
 evening, and entered Florence the following day a 
 little before svmset. Moving at the rate at which 
 bags of rice and Indian corn now jog along, where 
 there are no railways, we journeyed by Bologna, 
 Piacenza, and Milan, to .Turin, the bells perpetually 
 
120 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 jingling in our ears for fifteen or twenty days, till 
 at last, when it pleased Heaven, our carriages rolled 
 into the courtyard of Casa d'Azeglio, 19 Via d'An- 
 gennes. 
 
 The inclemency of the season, the cold, the fogs 
 of Lombardy, and, to crown all, the painful prospect 
 of having to submit to a foreign master in our own 
 country, — all conspired to make this journey more 
 ■ than wearisome to our poor mother, who arrived 
 quite exhausted. But to us boys this unknowu 
 Turin, this ancestral home, — hitherto only beheld 
 in dreams, and in Giacoliri's highly - coloured de- 
 scrijDtions, — excited our imaginations, and we were 
 wild with expectation and curiosity. When, too, on 
 alighting from the carriage, I found myself in an 
 elegant vestibule, and saw the servants of the house 
 and the secretary, Avvocato Cappello, coming for- 
 ward to meet me ; when, wonder of wonders, I 
 heard the inquiry, " Have you had a pleasant jour- 
 ney. Signer Cavaliere ?"* — I hardly knew whether I 
 was awake or dreaming, so great was my elation at 
 this unlooked-for mode of address, and my surprise 
 at finding myself suddenly promoted to such high 
 dignity. Fortunately, legions of people have been 
 knighted nowadays who could not have expected 
 
 * In Italy the younger sons of noble houses are addressed as 
 Cavaliere. 
 
MOMENTS OF SATISFACTION. 121 
 
 it any more than I did. I s&j fortunately, because 
 if it were not for them nobody could hare an ade- 
 quate idea of the joy I felt in that solemn moment. 
 
 My raptures went on increasing when I entered 
 a spacious room with sUk hangings, balconies open- 
 ing on a garden, a beautifal polished floor, &e. 
 This was one of the few moments of satisfied ambi- 
 tion that have fallen to my share during life. Not 
 that I was born without ambition, but, as the reader 
 will see, if Providence permits me to finish these 
 memoirs, mine was not one that aspired to titles, 
 palaces, dignities, and other such gewgaws. 
 
 We found my aged grandmother, the Countess of 
 Casal Grasso, already in the last stage of the chronic 
 malady of which she soon afterwards died. We 
 were all taken to her bedside, and the caresses 
 with which she greeted us testified her heartfelt joy 
 at our return. Her affection was so great that 
 when towards spring we made an excursion to Stu- 
 pinigi,* she insisted on our visiting the Castle of 
 MiUefiori, on the banks of the Sangone, which be- 
 longed to her, and even wished to leave it to us at 
 any cost. The history of this castle would be more 
 curious than that of Woodstock, but its legends are 
 foreign to my present purpose. Here I entered on 
 a new- phase of existence. The privations of a hfe 
 * A royal castle about five miles from Turin. 
 
122 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 of exile were exchanged for a wider horizon and a 
 more luxurious life. I had a comfortable room, and 
 a small garden entirely my own. By degrees I was 
 introduced to my relations, of both sexes and all 
 ages, beginning with an old great-grandmother, the 
 Coxmtess da Camino, who greatly impressed me by 
 her enormous white cap, in the centre of which 
 shone a diamond rose as bright as a star. 
 
 When Napoleon passed through Turin (I think 
 it was on his return from the coronation at Milan), 
 this lady, bon grd, mal gr4, went to court. The 
 hero of the day, as is well known, took no pains to 
 make himself agreeable, and nobody in Europe was 
 in a position to give him a lesson of politeness. 
 Passing, as was his wont, from one lady to another, 
 addressing an abrupt sentence to each, he came to 
 my great-grandmother, and asked roughly : 
 
 " Combien d'enfants avez-vous?" 
 
 " Cent-sept, sire." 
 
 Napoleon started back, fixing his eagle eyes upon 
 her; and the old countess, with the utmost com- 
 posure, explained to him that having had nine 
 daughters, who were aU mothers and grandmothers, 
 and, I believe, some even great-grandmothers, the 
 total number of her descendants to the fifth gene- 
 ration was one hundred and seven. Napoleon (Ma- 
 dame de Stael knew well) liked large families : he 
 
MY FAMOUS PEIEST ! 123 
 
 had his own reasons for so doing. His face bright- 
 ened up as he replied, " C'est bien, madame ; je vous 
 en felicite ;" and passed on. 
 
 My father being dissatisfied with the priest who 
 had taken charge of and accompanied us on our 
 journey, sent him back to Lucca. But as in those 
 days it was thought impossible to do without a priest, 
 it became necessary to look out for another ; and the 
 first having been somewhat too hastily engaged, 
 more pains were taken in selecting his successor. 
 
 At last a second priest was discovered, whose re- 
 ferences were perfectly satisfactory. In fact Don 
 Andries of Dronero was the most simple-minded and 
 virtuous of men, but narrow-minded and almost like 
 a mummy. 
 
 I had to endure that worthy priest for five years. 
 He never once hit the mark in matters of education, 
 tact, or manners, &c. ; I could plainly see all his 
 blunders, and mischievously led him into fresh ones 
 every day by playing him a hundred tricks. This 
 shows in what esteem I held him, and what amount 
 of moral authority he exercised over me. As a 
 priest he was of the Jesuit school and oppressed me 
 with pious exercises. Here is the programme of 
 my religious duties at that time: In the morning 
 (in winter before dawn) he said mass, and I served 
 it ; a little later, a chapter of some devout book ; 
 
124 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 before dinner (which was then in the middle of the 
 day), self-examination ; after dinner, a visit to a 
 churcli, or afternoon service ; in the evening I sel- 
 dom escaped a triduum or a novena; and at night 
 prayers, and so to bed; then he left me in peace 
 till the next morning. At times of peculiar fervour 
 (I had omitted this) I was required to find time in 
 the day for an additional half hour of pious medi- 
 tation. And this system was intended to make me 
 take delight in devotion ! 
 
 To accustom horses to the explosion of firearms, 
 some people fire-off a pistol just as their oats are 
 being brought. But my excellent priest acted on 
 quite another system, and in order to make me fully 
 enjoy a mass he used to turn me out of bed by 
 candle-light, and oblige me to make the responses 
 shivering with cold, and half asleep, in a damp and 
 dismal chapel. You may fancy how I delighted in it. 
 
 For a certain time I had to submit to even a 
 greater tribulation. There was at Turin a priest 
 who I believe was not really a bad man, but he was 
 one of those who are every day inventing some new 
 spiritual exercise, in order, under this pious pre- 
 text, to coUect children around him, with a view, 
 perhaps, of gaining admission into their families 
 through their means ; this, however, is merely a sup- 
 position of my own, and may be unfounded in the 
 
RELIGIOUS TYEANNy. 125 
 
 ease of Father Polani, an ex-monk and a man of this 
 peculiar kind. He had an oratory, where he as- 
 sembled some thirty hoys, of whom, thanks to my 
 priest, I was one. He used to make me go through 
 a variety of religious exercises, accompanied with 
 sermons and meditations in the dark ; and then from 
 time to time he would comfort us with sanctimonious 
 little dinners or refections in the country. I am, 
 however, bound to say that I never discovered any- 
 thing wrong or objectionable in the manners of the 
 ex-monk. But to say the least, it was unwise and 
 indiscreet to smother a lively and intelligent child 
 under that friar's frock, which would have been too 
 heavy even for a man. 
 
 To conclude the religious history of my childhood, 
 I must add that my good priest was in despair when 
 he perceived that his system, instead of making me 
 very pious, as he expected, had produced (as was 
 but natural) precisely the contrary effect. 
 
 To this day I am unable patiently to endure 
 being bored. When anyone wearies me, a glance 
 at my countenance soon makes him aware of the fact. 
 The expression of my face must often have betrayed 
 to the priest how much I enjoyed his holy practices. 
 Sometimes I could not even refrain from laughing 
 at some of his stories of apparitions, evil spirits, 
 visions, and miracles. One day (and this was a 
 
126 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 serious business) we went almost in the guise of 
 pilgrims to the sanctuary of our Lady of Oropa, 
 where the faithful worship one of those black wooden 
 images, perhaps of Byzantine origin, which consist 
 of a female head supported on a kind of bell, meant 
 to represent the body. The infant Jesus in the 
 arms of this Virgin is an equally fine specimen of 
 art, and both are almost buried under the profiision 
 of rosaries, jewels, necklaces, and other precious 
 things with which the devout of many generations 
 have enriched the shrine. I arrived, as it pleased 
 Heaven, in sight of this marvel, which had cost us 
 a journey of so many miles, the greater part of it 
 on foot ; and instead of being pervaded by a mystic 
 emotion, I bluntly said that I respected our Lady 
 who dwells in Heaven, but as to that ugly black 
 Virgin, I did not care a fig for her, nor did I beKeve 
 she could work me either good or evil. 
 
 I leave the reader to imagine what a hornet's 
 nest I raised about me by the expression of these 
 ideas. I was called a heretic and a miscreant, 
 already without hope of amendment, who would 
 come to a bad end, &c. 
 
 How often the master ought to be flogged instead 
 of the pupil! As a last trial, it was resolved to 
 make me go through what were then called "the 
 exercises." Such things are now no longer heard of. 
 
SPIRITUAL BOTHERS. 127 
 
 I think it was an invention of the Jesuits, at all 
 events they were directed by men of their school, 
 in a convent or sanctuary that had once belonged to 
 them. "Within a few miles of Sango, in the valley 
 of the Dora, there is a mountain peak, upon which 
 some shepherds, as usual, once had a vision of Saint 
 Ignatius. The peak in question was a bare and 
 pointed rock, but, thanks to the apparition, it was soon 
 enclosed in a fine church, of which it became the 
 centre, and round the church rose a convent. A 
 corridor also ran round the walls of the former, 
 giving access to rooms on either side. From the 
 windows looking over the country there was a mag- 
 nificent prospect of the Alps; but the opposite 
 ones only opened into the church, and aiforded the 
 less magnificent view of Ignatius himself, in all the 
 glory of painted mortar, standing bolt upright on the 
 point of his rock. 
 
 One fine summer day in the year 1813, my 
 priest shut me up in one of these latter rooms, that I 
 might be less disturbed by external objects ; and the 
 reader may guess how cheerful I found this Alpine 
 retreat. 
 
 This house of spiritual exercises was kept by a 
 certain Abate Guala, and we lived together as if at 
 college. There may have been about fifty persons ; 
 my two brothers, Prospero and Enrico, were also of 
 
128 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 the number, but they had been indulged with a room 
 looking on the open country. 
 
 Abate Guala had once been a celebrity at Turin. 
 A great many priestly intrigues were attributed to 
 him. It was said, among other things, that he had 
 made a particular study of Horace's art of iaiheriting, 
 and that he even surpassed his master. I have no 
 proof of this, however, and it is my maxim never to 
 affirm anything of which I am not certain. But 
 exactly for this reason I may say, in the first place, 
 that he was a fanatic, devoid of intellect, and utterly 
 destitute of the wisdom requisite for doing any of 
 that good which, I would fain believe, was his aim ; 
 and, secondly, what is still more certain, that he 
 made me spend such a week as I shall never forget, 
 were I to hve a thousand years. 
 
 Excepting at meal-times, I either was continu- 
 ally at church listening to sermons, or in my own 
 room, where I was shut up directly after to medi- 
 tate upon them. And even at night, if I accident- 
 ally awoke, I saw that motionless black St. Ignatius 
 moimting guard over me, who, by the glimmering 
 light of the lamp dimly burning before tlie altar, 
 looked like anything but a dweller in Paradise. 
 
 The result was, that, being at a loss to know 
 how to while away the tedious hours, and wishing 
 also to vent my wrath, I composed a sonnet, which 
 
boeedom's power. 129 
 
 miglit indeed be called de circonstance, and inscribed 
 it in pencil on one of the panels. I remember the 
 first four lines : 
 
 "Volendo far veder la seooatura 
 Quanto tremenda sia sua potest^, 
 Fece dar gli Esercizi di piet^ 
 Da uu prete Becoator senza misura." 
 
 " Boredom's tremendous power to prove, 
 A priest, of bores the chief, 
 Was bid to inflict religious rites 
 On all without relief." 
 
 I never learnt how my holy mentor discovered 
 this poetical effusion. I did not even know it till 
 long after, for he took no notice at the time. As- 
 suredly his heart must have sunk within him, when 
 he saw this fine result of his last effort. 
 
 My father was informed of the fact ; but even 
 he did not reprimand me. Probably he said to the 
 priest : "It serves you right." One thing is certain, 
 from that day forward the pious oppression was re- 
 laxed, and I was allowed to breathe. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 Eeligious instruction — Eeflectiong on its place in education — I 
 do not argue with Atheists — The teacher should educate honest 
 men — Extra-dogmatic reasons to induce the pupil to be so — 
 Faults of the religious instruction I received— Importance of 
 the sense of respect — Examples of the Eomans — Third ele- 
 ment in a good education — Jesuit-teaching — History- — I be- 
 come a day-scholar at college — Shameful examination — Good 
 sentiment — A stolen prize — My character is being spout — I 
 enter the University — I begin to write — Excursions — I am 
 taken for a highwayman — Gymnastics. 
 
 Eeligious instruction is one of the greatest problems 
 of education. It opens the door to the most subtle 
 metaphysical questions ; but heaven forbid I should 
 venture into this labyrinth, since no Ariadne has 
 yet been found to offer a thread which does not 
 snap as soon as you try to make use of it. 
 
 From the beginning of time each generation has 
 asked these questions : 
 
 Whence come I ? 
 
 What am I doing ? 
 
 Whither do I go ? 
 
 And human reason, not having had the modesty 
 to answer the simple truth, — viz. " I know not," — 
 
FORMULA OF ATHEISM. 131 
 
 has from age to age found myriads of answers, each 
 more fiitile than the last ; and will doubtless continue 
 to do so, as long as the Almighty leaves mankind a 
 life-tenancy of this planet. 
 
 But, though we may avoid metaphysics, we can- 
 not so easily rid ourselves of the practical questions 
 of life, with aU the inevitable needs it entails. 
 
 Eehgion may, and in fact has, supphed means 
 to pilot man through those rocks without putting 
 his reason to the torture of metaphysics. She boldly 
 answers the three questions, and iudicates the path 
 to aU those who accept her guidance. 
 
 But, as I have already said, many pages back, 
 men beheve according to their power, and not ac- 
 cording to their wiU ; and in the present age, who- 
 ever undertakes to examine and discuss the practical 
 questions of society — foremost among which I place 
 that of education — must, if he would secure listeners, 
 take as a starting-point some universally acknow- 
 ledged truth. 
 
 Here I must premise that I do not argue with 
 atheists, pantheists, or materialists. Atheism, if con- 
 sistent, reduces the question of life to this simple 
 formula : Procure for yourself the greatest amount 
 of advantage by any me_ans whatsoever within the 
 pale of the law. And, as we cannot conceive the 
 existence of any human society without reciprocal. 
 
132 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 spontaneous, and perpetual sacrifice, there is no pos- 
 sible compromise to be made with atheism. 
 
 In one respect, however, this does not much 
 simplify the problem. There is a wide abyss be- 
 tween the system of my narrow-minded priest, which 
 reduced education to the novitiate of a Capuchin, 
 and that of Rousseau, who proposes to leave reHgion 
 an open question with the pupil for the space of 
 thu'ty years. 
 
 I will content myself with a few observations, 
 the truth of which wiU, I think, be admitted by all. 
 
 Every teacher, be his reHgious opinions what 
 they may, must necessarily aim primarily at making 
 his pupil an honest man. To this end he must 
 first of all learn to do many things contrary to his 
 own inclinations. 
 
 It would be interesting to inquire for what reason 
 I should do what I dishke, setting aside all idea of 
 fature reward or punishment? Apart fi'om this, 
 everything is reduced to a question of present im- 
 punity ; or, in other words, the learning how to do 
 what we please without incurring the penalty of 
 some other inconvenience. What am I, then, to say 
 to my pupU — what motive can I suggest to induce 
 him to forego his own gratification and become an 
 honest man ? Shall I teU him he must be one in 
 order to make his fortune ? He would laugh in my 
 
NECESSITY OF A DOGMA. 133 
 
 face, thougli lie were but a child in arms I Shall 
 I expound the Socratic thesis, viz. that justice is 
 the only good, and injustice the only evil; so that, 
 if I commit a crime, it must be a good even for me 
 that I should be hanged for the triumph of justice? 
 He wotild laugh at me more than ever ! 
 
 This proves the absolute necessity of building mo- 
 rality on a dogma. Having established this point, we 
 suppose that every teacher among us, even though a 
 sceptic, would select the dogma of the Gospel, and not 
 that of Islam or of Brahma. As a general rule, 
 we aU agree in considering the ten commandments 
 as a basis of motality not to be Hghtly disregarded. 
 
 The sceptical teacher may perhaps say : I can- 
 not teach or affirm what I do not know for certain. 
 And I reply by asking, whether he is absolutely 
 certain of the contrary? And if he assumes the 
 responsibility of selecting between the two courses 
 for his pupU, does he not run the risk of affirming 
 his own infallibility ? a position which, I suppose, 
 he cannot pretend to maintain. 
 
 In my opinion, doubt itself should lead to the 
 securing the morahty of the pupil first of all ; and 
 the impressing on his heart, through dogma, that 
 Christian sense of right and wrong, which is after 
 all the basis of modern society, and the sole guaran- 
 tee for that wise and equitable distribution of social 
 
134 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 well-being, the most rational and the widest appli- 
 cation of the first evangelical precept, charity. 
 
 The age of doubt will come only too soon; no 
 need for us to forestall it. God exempts youth and 
 childhood from its influence. Let us not seek to 
 alter the decrees of His goodness. 
 
 My arguments, I know, will satisfy neither the 
 theologian or the philosopher, but they may possibly 
 have some interest for the many sincere and intelli- 
 gent minds who are so often obliged to content them- 
 selves with a moral presumption. 
 
 A great many problems in life require a prompt 
 solution, and there is no time to ' await the con- 
 venience of metaphysical or intellectual convictions. 
 Among these is the rehgious instruction of children. 
 Unhappily, through the injudicious system of instruc- 
 tion pursued with me, I lost all veneration for things 
 most venerable. My faith also in things superna- 
 tural and moral was greatly shaken. How could I feel 
 any respect for the worship of the Black Virgin of 
 Oropa, or for the priest who was so fanatical on the 
 subject ? 
 
 He produced on me individually the same effect 
 as Rome has produced on whole generations; that 
 is, he made respect impossible by an excessive abuse 
 of it. 
 
 The rehgious and political powers of modern 
 
EESPECT WHAT IS RESPECTABLE. 135 
 
 Europe, from alienating the respect of mankind by 
 their conduct, have given rise to that general houle- 
 versement of ideas and things in which the revolution 
 may be compared to a steam-engine, and the general 
 good sense of the public to the "break," which pre- 
 vents us from going headlong to ruin. 
 
 But while all social elements are thus seething as 
 in a caldron, the feeling of abstract reverence has 
 evaporated altogether. The new generations may 
 feel excitement, or the wildest love for men and 
 things, but the sense of reverence is all but lost ; and 
 if we consider the past, and partly the present, this 
 result is perfectly comprehensible. 
 
 Now it is the busiuess of education (if the world 
 is to be restored to its normal and orderly condition) 
 to re-establish in the heart of man that noble and 
 prolific sentiment of the human heart, respect for that 
 ivhich is respectable; without this, example becomes 
 useless as an instrument of good ; and no system of 
 order can be firmly built up. 
 
 People are generally fond of quoting the Eomans 
 and the Greeks. Whenever an iniquitous or arro- 
 gant act is to be lauded to the skies, the Gracchi, 
 Brutus, Cassius, and many others are constantly ad- 
 duced as examples. But let us do the same by 
 the laws and customs which bear witness to the 
 importance attached by the Eomans to respect for 
 
136 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 what is respectable. Their respect for religion, for 
 their city, for the law, for paternal authority, for 
 the consular fasces, the magistrates, and the tribunes, 
 is illustrated by hundreds of examples. When the 
 Consul Nasica, preceded by his lictors, met his father 
 on horseback in the street, he made him dismount to 
 show the respect due to the first magistrate. 
 
 And when the Consul Duilius Nepos consulted 
 the auspices before a battle, and on being told the 
 chickens would not eat, said, " Let us see whether 
 they will drink," ordering them to be thrown into 
 the sea, he showed neither wisdom nor statecraft. 
 
 When, from the Gracchi downwards, the Romans 
 having gradually lost their respect for all these 
 things, fell at last so low as to be compelled to obey 
 Tiberius, Nero, and men of their stamp, the lex 
 majestatis served to refresh their memory. 
 
 Now, in summing up the above facts and re- 
 flections, we may fairly conclude that a sense of 
 respect for what is respectable is the third element of 
 a good education to be added to the other two already 
 mentioned, viz. obedience to rightful authority and 
 firmness of will. 
 
 Thanks to my father, at twelve years of age I 
 was not entirely deficient in this firmness, and I had 
 also learned to obey ; but my priest, with his narrow 
 intellect and indiscreet zeal, had stifled in me all 
 
JESUITIC EDUCATION. 137 
 
 sense of reverence, whicli was tantamount to having 
 endued me vrith a great dose of presumption. 
 
 The secular teaching I received from him was 
 about on a par with the rehgious. Thinls of having 
 spent five or six years in studying Latin at the age 
 at which the acquisition of languages is most easy ! 
 and that, instead of being imperfectly acquainted with 
 Latin and Greek, from which I have never derived 
 much benefit, I might have thoroughly learnt Ger- 
 man and English, which I shoilld now find so ex- 
 tremely useful. But my ediication was governed by 
 the Jesuit system, and the problem it has always 
 so admirably solved is this — to keep a young man 
 tiU he is twenty constantly employed in studies which 
 are of little or no value in forming his character, his 
 intelligence, and his judgment. Li fact, my educa- 
 tion, and whatever I may have acquired, has been 
 the work of later years, and has cost me twice the 
 trouble, at a time of Kfe in which, instead of learning, 
 one ought to be reaping the fruits of previous study. 
 On historical matters, which, with languages, ought 
 to be the chief study of aU classes of men, as being 
 the most capable of useful applications, I was fur- 
 nished with classic books, and became tolerably well 
 acquainted with all that had taken place at Eome, 
 Athens, Memphis, and Babylon, before the Christian 
 era ; but of the events of which Italy was the thea- 
 
138 MY KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 tre in the Middle Ages I knew not a word. And 
 why ? because I was to be kept in total ignorance of 
 Teodora and Marozia,* of Alexander VI., and of the 
 ambition, the greed, the violence, and the frauds of 
 the Popes ! 
 
 But as I did not make much progress even in 
 Latin, I was sent as a day-scholar to the college, 
 which is now the military academy, and where Sig- 
 ner Bertone then taught rhetoric. It was clear that 
 Napoleon did not caffe much for rhetoricians. There 
 were but three scholars ; one Perrier, a Frenchman, 
 Fascini, a Piedmontese, and myself. Though I have 
 never since met these two schoolfellows of mine, I 
 stiU retain a friendly recollection of them. If they 
 chance to read these pages, I beg them to accept a 
 hearty greeting from their old comrade. 
 
 In this course of study I was invariably the 
 greatest dunce of the three. It is perhaps the result 
 of a bad disposition or of a spirit of perversity, but 
 the fact is, that I was never inchned to study as long 
 as my teachers tried to lu-ge me on, but no sooner 
 was I left to myself, than I began to devour books, 
 and have continued to do so, more or less, ever since. 
 
 * Two Roman ladies celebrated in the tenth century for their 
 beauty, their bad character, the influence they exercised on the 
 politics of the day, and on the elections of eight successive Popes, 
 mostly all unworthy occupants of the chair of St. Peter. 
 
A GKEEK COMPOSITION. 139 
 
 But the time for the examinations drew nigh, and 
 one fine morning I found myself in a room with my 
 two companions, each seated at a different desk, 
 busy writing a theme. Nothing less than a Greek 
 composition had fallen to my lot ! and I puzzled like 
 a blockhead over the Lexicon of Schrevelius and the 
 grammar, and squeezed this grand Hellenic pro- 
 duction out of my brain drop by drop. The maitre 
 dCdtudes every now and then paid us a visit. He 
 gave a look at Perrier and Faseini, and as I watched 
 him I saw his face brighten. Then he came to my 
 desk, glanced at my Greek, and suddenly his brow 
 grew dark. Heaven knows what outrageous Greek 
 I was producing ! 
 
 The reader will soon understand the trepidation 
 of the maitre dC^tudes on my account. I was the 
 nephew of Count Prospero Balbo, rector of the Uni- 
 versity; and it was as clear as dayhght that the 
 nephew of one who held the fate of so many maitres 
 d'etvdes in his hands could not possibly be allowed 
 to appear a blockhead. 
 
 Our mentor disappeared for half an hour, then 
 came back. He had taken one of those resolutions 
 which save nephews, and sometimes greater men 
 than them, namely, to perform my task himself, and 
 leave me to reap the credit With a dexterity worthy 
 of a conjuror, he abstracted my theme without being 
 
140 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 perceived by my school-mates, and replaced it by 
 another sheet, with a Greek composition already 
 written, so that I had only to copy it out. 
 
 To my credit I must say that, having at once 
 understood the trick, and even its motive, I felt a 
 bitter humiliation, and a great dislike to lending 
 myself to such a fraud. But I must add, to my 
 shame, that I had not the courage to act upon this 
 praiseworthy sentiment. 
 
 I had always been accustomed to obedience, and 
 my ideas on fas et nefas were not yet sufficiently 
 precise and clear to permit me to carry out my own 
 inspirations. I therefore bowed to authority, and 
 impudently copied the Greek theme, which was na- 
 turally considered a marvel; and I heard my uncle 
 Balbo say, while talking with my father, that he was 
 quite astonished at my showing so much aptitude for 
 the dead languages. Fancy how much less astonish- 
 ing it seemed to me. 
 
 The day the prizes were distributed I received in 
 public, from the hands of Coimt Balbo, a beautiful 
 foKo edition of Somen Opera Omnia, elegantly bound, 
 and was complimented on my erudition. This vol- 
 ume is stiR among my books, and I thmk of bequeath- 
 ing it to some pubHc library, as a" restitution (the 
 phrase is rather hard to utter, but I must bear that) of 
 stolen property. I was certainly wrong; but the maitre 
 
SACREDNESS OF CHILDHOOD. 141 
 
 d'^tudes, heaven forgive liim! was even more guilty 
 than myself, for he set me a very bad example; and 
 bad examples given to young people by their elders 
 are in my opinion real crimes. The divine inno- 
 cence of childhood might almost incline us to beheve 
 that human souls leave the lap of the angels to come 
 down and assume our shape. He who tarnishes its 
 purity by the first soil and degrades it by the first 
 fraud is guilty of a great wrong. 
 
 I confess that this circumstance, added to many 
 others, and perhaps also to the severe strain upon 
 my mind, especially in religious matters, exercised 
 about this time a bad influence on my character. 
 Every despotism, great or small, is the ruin of cha- 
 racter. Dissimulation gradually crept into my mind, 
 then falsehood, which is even worse, and I could tell 
 fibs with tolerable assurance. Subsequently I cured 
 myself of this fault, and I really believe that for the 
 last forty years few men in Europe have been more 
 truthful, including the years in which I was a 
 minister and a diplomatist — professions in which it 
 is more important than in any other to abstain from 
 falsehood, though the vulgar believe the contrary. 
 But men vnll be convinced that I am right if they 
 (mce understand that there is no influence so irre- 
 sistible as that which springs from the confidence 
 one has succeeded in inspiring. 
 
142 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Having thus honoiirably completed the study of 
 rhetoric, the usual scholastic curriculum led me to 
 philosophy, which I commenced at the Universiiy 
 of Turin at the age of thirteen. At that period my 
 mind began to possess a certain degree of cultivation. 
 Whilst the priest taught me and my brothers Latin 
 (the only thing he knew), our father himself super- 
 intended the other branches of our education. At 
 regular hours we read with him the best Italian 
 poets and prose writers ; Dante, Tasso, Pulci, and 
 Ariosto, each had their turn. Of course we were 
 not allowed to read all their works; but even those 
 selections which were adapted to young readers suf- 
 ficed to give us a taste for, and a just appreciation of, 
 their beauty of style, and to afford an opportunity for 
 useful comments to our father, who was a man of 
 retentive memory and of unusual erudition. 
 
 I preferred Dante and Ariosto to aU the rest, and 
 do so to this day. In this manner my taste was 
 gradually formed, and I acquired the habit of con- 
 stant occupation and readuig, which I have retained 
 aU my life. Woe to us if our father had ever caught 
 us indulging in the Italian dolce far niente ! For- 
 tunately its charms were never much appreciated 
 by the Piedmontese. 
 
 We were also employed now and then in writing 
 descriptions of real or imaginary subjects. Very 
 
SEVEEE MAECHES. 143 
 
 often, after an excursion, or a visit to some pic- 
 turesque spot, a villa, or a castle, one of us had to 
 write an accoimt of what we had seen. This exer- 
 cise is very useful for young people, and I have 
 noted it down as a hint to teachers. In order to 
 facilitate the task of the young writers, it is well 
 to call their attention during these excursions to the 
 different aspects of places and things. Our father 
 took every opportunity that offered of explaining the 
 different sites, and especially pointed out their ap- 
 plicability to military science. He taught us to find 
 our way, to guess the points of the compass, to re- 
 cognise places we had already seen, to calculate the 
 probability of finding water, or the vicinity of a 
 hamlet; also to judge distances, and the configm'a- 
 tion of ground, &c. ; all things, a familiar know- 
 ledge of which is extremely useful on many occa- 
 sions, not only in time of war, but also in ordinary 
 life. 
 
 These walks were in fact real military marches 
 of eight, ten, and even twelve Piedmontese miles; 
 and I remember one, the longest of them (which 
 continued from the evening until two the following 
 afternoon), of five-and-twenty of our miles, equiva- 
 lent to thirty-six Italian ones. It is true that at the 
 end (not being yet fourteen) I was quite knocked 
 up, and slept twenty hours without waking. As in 
 
144 MT EECOLLBCTIONS. 
 
 these excursions, whicli included our father, the 
 priest, and servant, we made a very formidable 
 array, the more so because we boys were very 
 tall, and as we wandered at random over hiU and 
 dale, through woods and fields, we were taken more 
 than once on a dark night for a gang of robbers. I 
 well recollect that in the famous pilgrimage to Oropa, 
 about two in the morning, we had lost the road, not 
 far from the Serra, a high mountain near Ivrea. 
 My father heard people passing at a little distance, 
 and called to me and another of us : " Gro and ask 
 your way from those people yonder." I ran as fast 
 as I could ; but on seeing us they took to their heels, 
 and never stopped for all my shouts. 
 
 From this it will be seen that our father wished 
 us to become men physically as well as morally. 
 For this reason he accustomed us to gymnastics of 
 every kind. There was at that time no school for 
 such exercises, but his kind solicitude invented one 
 for us. Before the age of ten I was taught to dance 
 and fence, and later to swim and ride. Afterwards 
 we went through a regular course of leaping, throw- 
 ing somersaults, and dancing on the tight rope. 
 
 My brother, subsequently a Jesuit, had then just 
 entered the first stage of clerical Hfe ; and I re- 
 member his appearance when he was practising the 
 aforesaid somersaults, clad in his long black priestly 
 
A JESUIT BIG- WIG. 145 
 
 robe. Who would have foreseen in that eoal-sack 
 revolving on its own axis the future Father Taparelli, 
 director of the Civilta Cattolioa* and one of the most 
 eminent members of the Society of Jesus ? 
 
 * The dmlta Cattolica is an ultra-clerical paper published at 
 Kome, and edited by the Jesuits. It is well known for its vio- 
 lence and intolerance. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 My Jesuit — our friendship — Jesuits' life — What my brother was 
 — his habits— Black and Eed Jesuits — Jesuits and Englishmen 
 — Napoleon gives him a nomination to St. Cyr — Napoleon and 
 Dr. Jenner — Roberto becomes auditor to the Council of State — 
 Prospero is liberated — Matilde — her death — our grief — Giorgio 
 Bidone — his affectionate advice — Political life of my Father — 
 Persecution of Pius VII. — My Father's solicitude for im- 
 prisoned Priests — their merits — First tidings of the disaster 
 of Moscow — Joy of everybody except" those who lost their 
 appointments — The dihdcle — The folly of mankind — Belief 
 to the wounded. 
 
 "Birds of a feather flock together" is not always a 
 true proverb. It would be as difficult to find two 
 men more diametrically opposed than my Jesuit bro- 
 ther and I in our political and religious opinions, as 
 to find two more attached to each other than we 
 were from our childhood tUI his death, which took 
 place last year. 
 
 As a child I loved him better than either of my 
 other brothers. He had more talent than any of us, 
 with greater powers of self-denial, united to an un- 
 swerving and invincible will. His character may in 
 fact be simmied up in three words — wisdom, virtue, 
 and strength. Had he remained in the world, even 
 
A DISTURBED EXISTENCE. 147 
 
 as a priest, his powerfiil and well-organised nature 
 might have led him to great things. Who can say 
 of what use his talents might have been to his coun- 
 try, to society, and even to his own religious and 
 philosophical opinions ! But how act the part of a 
 great man in the narrow precincts of a cloister ? 
 
 I, who have spent so many hours with him in his 
 ceU, where one could never be half an hour uninter- 
 rupted, know it but too well. Imagine a poor feUow 
 who is writing, for instance, a disquisition on the 
 rights of man. Ding-dong, goes the bell. What is 
 it now ? It is time to give the boys their lessons in 
 grammar — Amen. Accordingly he goes to teach 
 grammar. Then he comes back and resumes the 
 thread of his ideas on the rights of man. Three- 
 quarters of an hour elapse. Ding-dong, again. It 
 is the triduum, or the novena in honour of St. Stanislas 
 Kostka, or some such worthy — Amen. To church 
 he goes forthwith. Again he returns, and the rights 
 of man are continued once more. Ten minutes after, 
 rap, rap, rap, at the dooi\ Deo gratias. A deep- 
 voiced Come in ! uttered in desperation, answers the 
 knock. It is a novice come to beg advice on his 
 absence of mind during Mass, or a pupil who asks 
 whether ancora is spelt with or without an A! It 
 seems to me madness to suppose that a man com- 
 pelled to work under such physieo-moral torment, 
 
148 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 however great his intellect and powerM his will, 
 should perform even the quarter of what he would 
 accomplish if free and undisturbed. In fact, though 
 the Jesuits have in their ranks men of great emin- 
 ence and talent, purchased by Heaven knows what 
 amount of labour and perseverance, they do not pos- 
 sess one of first-rate merit. 
 
 If, however, my brother never rose by his genius 
 to the high position he seemed born to fiU — if he 
 never earned the fame which is the due inheritance 
 of all great men, — he has at least left some beautiful 
 examples of self-sacrifice and virtue, far more valu- 
 able, and which are of more use to those by whom 
 they can be appreciated and applied, than all the 
 marvels of human intellect. 
 
 I do not of course mean that anyone need become 
 a Jesuit in order to be like him ; but these points 
 in his character are worthy the emulation of all. He 
 was a young man of ardent temperament and impe- 
 tuous passions ; he was liable at times to fearful out- 
 biu-sts of rage ; he felt to the utmost all those aspi- 
 rations and cravings, which the Almighty planted in 
 our natm-e. Yet all these he subjugated, all these 
 he overcame. Before the age of thirty, he had at- 
 tained a meekness and serenity of temper, which I 
 never saw disturbed on any occasion. The mind and 
 heart, being in unison, had conquered, one might 
 
, QUID EST VERITAS ? 149 
 
 almost say destroyed, the material nature ; for in these 
 violent and ceaseless struggles for self-mastery he 
 ruined his health for hfe. 
 
 He had opinions, and very decided ones, on reli- 
 gion, philosophy, and politics ; and throughout life 
 sacrificed everything to his convictions. He en- 
 joyed the singular privilege, reserved to few, of never 
 even conceiving the possibility of being mistaken in 
 his creed; he felt an absolute conviction of the truths 
 in which he believed. His truth was not mine, 
 nor that of many others in these days. But as 
 Pilate said, quid est Veritas'^ Let him answer who 
 can. And if no one can give a satisfactory solution, 
 let us at least learn to respect all sincere belief, and 
 to act up to that which we have attained and our 
 conscience approves. And in this my brother may 
 be an example to all. 
 
 Born to a rank in life which entitled him to 
 aspire to everything, he renounced all. I have 
 closely scanned his life, and can truly say that, ex- 
 cept that inward and certainly supreme satisfaction 
 earned by the perfect fulfilment of duty, I never 
 saw him indulge in a single mundane pleasure. A 
 small comfortless room, poorly furnished, without 
 fireplace or carpet, and a hard mattress for a bed, 
 which he had to make every morning ; the plainest 
 of food, with no delicacies whatever ; then ever-re- 
 
150 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 curriiig acts of obedience, perpetual study, preach- 
 ing, and other ministerial duties; rising every night 
 at three o'clock, summer and winter ; — if all this does 
 not constitute a life of self-sacrifice, I know not how 
 else it should be called. 
 
 I am not myself a Jesuit. I am well aware of 
 all the evils they have worked by some of their 
 maxims and many of their arts ; but all the more 
 do I wonder at the degree of self-abnegation to 
 which every one of them condemns himself; and for 
 what purpose ? either to produce a bad result, or 
 none at all. 
 
 Nor do I belong to the opposite side, that dema- 
 gogue and revolutionary party, which is in my eyes 
 the inevitable counterpoise of the other. But grant- 
 ing that the latter succeed in producing only a bad 
 or a negative result, it must be allowed that, judged 
 individually in the matter of self-abnegation, there is 
 a yawning gulf between them and my brother the 
 Jesuit and his companions. 
 
 On this subject some curious parallels might be 
 drawn. I content myself with making the sugges- 
 tion, leaving its further elaboration to those who 
 take pleasure in the analysis of human griefs and 
 follies. One resemblance, however, I wiU mention, 
 and that is a likeness between Jesuits and English- 
 men. Taken individually, all are good and honest 
 
DEACONIC DECISION. 151 
 
 men ; but taken as a body, when the interests of Old 
 England or the Society are at stake, they would not 
 scruple to sacrifice their dearest friends. 
 
 And as in general they mutually detest each 
 other, I must beg pardon of both for having in- 
 stituted a comparison between them. 
 
 Eeverting to my brother: he narrowly escaped 
 following a career very different from that of a 
 Jesuit. Napoleon gave him a nomination to the 
 military school of St. Cyr ; and this piece of news, 
 announced to my father by M. A. Lameth, the 
 ■ Prefect of Turin, fell upon the family Hke a bomb- 
 shell. The reader may imagine the feelings of such 
 a man as my father, when the most sacred of privi- 
 leges — ^his paternal authority, the right, hitherto re- 
 spected by all and at every period, of educating and 
 disposing of his own sons according to his precon- 
 ceived ideas — was thus rudely invaded. Two of them 
 (for Roberto was simultaneously appointed auditor 
 to the Council of State) were torn from him by the 
 enemy of his country, the jailer of Pius YIL, by 
 him who, since the treachery of Bayonne, as every- 
 one could plainly see, was intoxicated and maddened 
 by ambition and pride; and to have no means of 
 resisting him, was enough to break myfather's heart. . 
 
 I was not then of an age fully to appreciate all 
 this; but I well remember the sadness which op- 
 
152 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 pressed our home for a long period. It was then the 
 idea took possession of my mind, which has never 
 been effaced — that Napoleon was a tyrant, and that 
 ten Austerlitzes or twenty Wagrams do not suffice 
 to redeem either an act of violence or the brutal dis- 
 regard of a natural right. 
 
 And yet, thanks to the singular good sense of 
 mankind, Napoleon — who for his own gratification 
 caused the slaughter of- a million of men and broke 
 the hearts of so many fathers and mothers — Napo- 
 leon is famous and admired even among savages ; 
 while I dare wager the reader does not even know the ■ 
 name of the man who has saved the lives of Heaven 
 knows how many millions of his feUow-creatures by 
 the discovery of vaccination. He was caUed Edward 
 Jenner, and was born on the 17th of May 1749, at 
 Berkeley in the county of Gloucester. And I my- 
 self who am preaching must confess to having been 
 obliged to refer to the Dicdonnaire de la Conversation 
 in order to quote these dates accurately ! Header, 
 let us at least remember his name ! 
 
 A host of reflections here intrude themselves upon 
 me. I must give utterance to some of them. I need 
 no one to tell me that my parallel of Napoleon and 
 Jenner will appear an idle jest, not seriously in- 
 tended by its author. But this is quite a mistake ; I 
 am as serious as possible. I foresee the dawning of 
 
GHINO DI TACCO'S VIEWS. 153 
 
 an age in wHcli it will seem incredible that men 
 should ever have entertained other ideas than those 
 I have just expressed. But I shall be asked, how 
 do you arrive at this conclusion ? From observing 
 the gradual modification of certain ideas of the past, 
 and thence prognosticating those of the future. This, 
 in few words, is my conception. 
 
 The ruder the condition of society, the more it 
 admires brute force and violence. Not to be tedious, 
 I pass over the primitive savage state, and take an 
 example from the Middle Ages. Boccaccio tells us 
 that in the medieval period Ghino di Tacco fortified 
 himself at Eadicofani, and attacked travellers on the 
 high road. One day he captured the Abbot of Cluny, 
 and addressed him in the following terms : " My 
 lord, I am Ghinotto di Tacco, and assure your lord- 
 ship I am a gentleman, and never had taken up this 
 course, and declared myself against the court of B,ome, 
 had it not been in defence of my hfe and honour. I 
 was driven from my estate, and all I had in the 
 world was seized ; so that mere necessity obliges me 
 to be a robber on the highways. Your lordship may 
 be aware this creates me a great many enemies."* 
 And the Abbot of Cluny thought this a very sensible 
 
 * 11 Decamerone, novel xcii., translated and printed in Lon- 
 don, 1722. 
 
154 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 speech, and, what is more singular, it seems that 
 even Boccaccio had no fault to find with it. 
 
 To take another instance. Carlo and Grrifone 
 Baglioni conspired to usurp Perugia, the territory of 
 their cousin Gianpaolo. They treacherously attacked 
 him and his family, and slew them all, save Gian- 
 paolo himself, who escaped, and coming back van- 
 quished them in his turn. He killed Grifone, and 
 drove out Carlo, who retreated to Nocera. From 
 this stronghold he harried the adjacent country with 
 fire and sword ; and Materazzo, who was a partisan 
 of Gianpaolo, and consequently an enemy of Carlo, 
 nevertheless feels obliged to add : " On this occa- 
 sion it cannot be denied that he showed himself 
 worthy of his family and name."* It is clear that 
 such views were then general, and not peculiar to 
 the chronicler. Has not public opinion undergone a 
 great change since that day? and if it has altered 
 thus with regard to nobles and petty tyrants, is it 
 not still more likely to do so respecting princes and 
 great conquerors? Is it not already modified since 
 the beginning of this century ? If Napoleon I. were 
 to return to life, could he play the same part over 
 
 * CJironicles of Francesco Materaxao. This writer was bom 
 at Perugia about the year 1240, was secretary to the town- 
 council, and died in 1312, leaving, besides literary works, several 
 chronicles of the factions of his day. 
 
JENNER AND NAPOLEON. 155 
 
 again ? Let us not, then, despair of the progress 
 of mankind, which in truth consists not in steam- 
 engines, but in the increasing power of morality, of 
 justice, and of truth. A day must come in which 
 Jenner will stand higher than Napoleon I. Mean- 
 while the world, like an old serpent, is casting its 
 skin. So much the worse for us who are living dur- 
 ing the operation. 
 
 To return to the history of my family. My bro- 
 ther Roberto was eighteen when compelled to set out 
 for Paris on his new duties. Cesare Balbo, Prie, 
 Guasco, and CoUegno, were appointed to similar 
 offices, and Giacinto, a bi'other of the latter, was sent 
 to the military school of St. Cyr. All these have since 
 distinguished themselves in their respective spheres ; 
 and many of them took an active part in the subse- 
 quent political events in Piedmont and Italy. 
 
 On my father's remonstrance, the government 
 granted Prospero, who was hardly sixteen, a year's 
 delay before his entrance into St. Cyr ; but Roberto 
 was to start at once, and my father accompanied him 
 to Paris. 
 
 The year of respite soon came to an end ; and 
 my father once more undertook that tedious journey 
 over the dusty roads of Savoy, Lyons, and Bur- 
 gundy, in company with a second victim of Napo- 
 leonic despotism. But after great exertions, with 
 
156 JMY EECOLLBCTIONS. 
 
 the help and influence of friends, and, if I remem- 
 ber right, of Monsignore della Torre, Archbishop of 
 Turin, a partisan of the French, count of the Em- 
 pire, &c., he succeeded in bringing his son back to 
 Tm-in, free to follow his own inclinations, which led 
 him to a clerical life. He received his first orders at 
 the hands of the above-mentioned archbishop, and 
 began his ecclesiastical studies in the spirit in which 
 he persevered to his life's end. 
 
 Of my two sisters, Melania, who had been left 
 at Turin with my grandmother whilst we were in 
 Tuscany, died at the age of twelve. The other, 
 Matilde, who married Count PalHo di Einco, was 
 of extraordinary beauty ; and owing to her excellent 
 education, and also her angelic disposition and .ex- 
 quisite nature, she had become a real treasure. 
 
 It is no new thing for poets and writers of ele- 
 gies to say : " He or she was too good, too heavenly ; 
 the world was not worthy of such a being; God 
 therefore recalled them to Himself." And, in truth, 
 experience often shows these poets to be right. There 
 are some natures so perfect and angelic, that they 
 seem to have come into the world by mistake, or as 
 if they had lost their way. Soon they pass away 
 from us; and though mourned by all, none seem to 
 wonder at their so early death. 
 
 This was the fate of poor Matilde, the companion 
 
matilde's death. 157 
 
 of my ehildliood. I have her portrait, with her little 
 hands clasped in prayer, and a blue scarf round her 
 head, like that in which Carlo Dolci paints his ex- 
 quisite Yirgins ; and in truth she greatly resembles 
 them. She died of consumption at the Castle of 
 Binco, before the age of twenty-two. I never think 
 of her without recalling the graceful and ethereal 
 outline of those angels of Fra Angelico da Fiesole, 
 with long robes fluttering down to their feet, and 
 light celestial wings to carry them to heaven. 
 
 The reader must pardon this dream of bygone 
 days. Few recollect her now, and I longed to bring 
 her once more to remembrance whilst still alive to 
 do so. Her death was an unspeakable sorrow to 
 us all. But nature, which gives each generation its 
 dawn, its noon, and its eventide, makes childhood 
 incapable of that prolonged moral suffering which 
 crushes middle age, and shortens the last days of the 
 old. With us boys the natural elasticity of youth 
 soon softened the grief, felt more by reminiscence in 
 after years; but to om: parents the blow was irre- 
 coverable. Many years after, I recollect, they could 
 never bear to Ksten to the music of the Agnese of 
 Paer, and especially to that duet between the despair- 
 ing father and Agnese : 
 
 " Quel sepoloro olie raooMude 
 Di mia figlia i resti esangui." 
 
158 MY KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 " The sepulchre which hides 
 My daughter's last remains." 
 
 And this sad trial yet more impaired my poor 
 mother's weak constitution, already shattered by the 
 many anxieties she had undergone. 
 
 These events have brought us to the year 1813, in 
 the August of which Matilde died. Meanwhile my 
 education had dragged itself along at the University 
 in a slow and slovenly fashion ; arguing in harbara et 
 baralipton under worthy Don Barucchi,* and writing 
 the lessons on natural philosophy in Latin under the 
 dictation of the famous and esteemed Professor Vas- 
 salli Eandi. In addition to these latter lessons, and 
 that I might also acquire some idea of geometry and 
 algebra, my father committed me to the care of 
 Professor Giorgio Bidone, who afterwards attained a 
 certain celebrity in mathematics and hydraulics. 
 
 As will be seen by and by, I ought to kiss 
 the ground on which this man trod. With the 
 exception of my father and mother, I am under 
 more obligations to him than to anyone else in the 
 world ; but it is as yet premature to speak of them. 
 He took every pains to insure my proficiency first 
 in arithmetic, then in algebra and all its branches; 
 but it only proved labour in vain. Providence had 
 
 * A good old soul who taught logic and ethics at the University 
 of Turin. 
 
INAPTITUDE FOE MATHEMATICS. 159 
 
 not gifted me with any aptitude for figures. It is 
 singular that, while I am naturally fond of calcu- 
 lating the causes, the consequences, and the proba- 
 bilities of facts, &c., I have no power of dealing 
 with written numbers. 
 
 But, in spite of my want of aptitude, and the 
 little credit a master was likely to reap from such 
 a pupil, he gradually became very fond of me. 
 From his conversation, more than from his scientific 
 teaching, I derived the greatest of benefits, that which 
 my poor priest had never been able to bestow, and 
 which is nevertheless the basis of every good educa- 
 tion. By degrees I was learning to think, to reflect, 
 to discard false ideas, and embrace accurate ones 
 in their stead. My friend Bidone, I might say, 
 was re-shaping my mind ; not unhke the doctor and 
 nurse when they endeavour to give shape to the 
 soft cranium of a new-born child. From that mo- 
 ment I began to appreciate men in proportion to 
 their honesty and wisdom, and things by their 
 intrinsic merit. By following this system one may, 
 if opportunity offers, perform sundry noble, great, 
 and useftil actions; but it is well to know before- 
 hand that no one will ever make a fortune by it. 
 This is a warning to anyone who may hereafter 
 accuse me of having led him on the road to starva- 
 tion by these theories of mine. 
 
160 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 During the first years after our return from 
 Florence my father lived a very retired and domes- 
 tic life. Our house was frequented by a few old 
 friends, adherents of the so-called Branda pariy 
 (from Branda Lucioni, the chief of a royalist band 
 in the time of the Republic), a name for which there 
 is now no equivalent, as it has completely vanished 
 from the political aijena. To give an idea of them, 
 sufSce it to say that our present codini* would have 
 been considered so many Marats by the Brandas of 
 yore. My father, who did not share their absurdi- 
 ties, used to quiz them ; and we boys, being struck 
 with their folly, so transparent was it, were fast be- 
 coming liberals, in virtue of the allopathic principle, 
 coniraria contrariis. 
 
 All this ended only in words. My father and 
 most of his friends had sworn to enter into no plot 
 against Napoleon, and would not have consented to 
 realise even their fondest wish — the deliverance of 
 Piedmont from the foreign yoke — at the cost of 
 perjury. 
 
 At this time arose a persecution against the 
 Pope, the cardinals, the bishops, &c., followed 
 by events Imown to all. Piedmont, being on the 
 high road between Eome and Paris, witnessed the 
 
 * Eeactionists, and in general people attached to old fashions, 
 are so called in Italy ; codino sigaSijmg pigtail in Italian. 
 
IMPEISONED PRIESTS. 161 
 
 Continual arrival and departure of priests of aU ages, 
 scattered here and there like withered leaves by the 
 stormy will of the despot, who having lost all judg- 
 ment, only retained his talent. Napoleon III. would 
 have acted very differently. 
 
 My father was constantly and actively employed 
 in assisting these victims; and when Napoleon, 
 throwing off the mask, had recourse to his favourite 
 argument of violence, and the different prisons 
 (Fenestrelle especially) were crowded with cardi- 
 nals and bishops, my father, who had sworn to ab- 
 stain from conspiring against Napoleon, but not to 
 abet his tyranny, took the foremost part in every- 
 thing that could afford relief, comfort, and hope to 
 the poor captives. Perpetually on the move, either 
 in town or country, he would return home one day, 
 and set off suddenly the next, always alone (an 
 excellent plan for insuring secrecy), in one of those 
 light two -wheeled vehicles with one horse, then 
 called padovanelli, which have now completely dis- 
 appeared. Wherever his help was most wanted, 
 thither would he hasten, without a single thought of 
 fear; for when urged on by faith, he would have 
 sacrificed himself and all that he possessed in the 
 world. 
 
 - It was at this time that he became an intimate 
 friend of Cardinal De-Gregorio, then a prisoner at 
 YOL. I. M 
 
162 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Fenestrelle. He found means of seeing him, and 
 of communicating with other cardinals and prelates, 
 all of whom were suffering for conscience' sake, and 
 therefore worthy of respect and esteem. 
 
 Strange to think what these prelates had been 
 a few years before, and what they had now become ! 
 To think of that ignoble mixture of corruption and 
 intrigue of which the Roman court was composed, 
 and yet to see such noble and strong natures emerge 
 from its depths, — men who dared say no to Na- 
 poleon, then held immutable and eternal as Fate ! 
 Tliey left their fair palaces under the bright skies 
 of Rome to enter calmly the dungeons of a fortress 
 upon which the snow feU in June. Could they 
 know when and how their prison-doors would open ? 
 Who amongst them could then foresee Rostopchiae 
 and the Beresina ? 
 
 Such is the power of self-sacrifice in renewing 
 and ennobling the human soul. But another idea 
 immediately suggests itself. Equally immutable is 
 the mysterious decree by which almost every good, 
 great, and beautiful thing in the world is the off- 
 spring of sorrow. 
 
 But into this path we must not enter, for Hea- 
 ven only knows where it might lead; and I fear 
 my narrative already too much resembles that of 
 Jeremiah. As, however, the most tedious of pages 
 
NAPOLEON IS VANQUISHED ! 163 
 
 may always be skipped, it will be the reader's own 
 fault if I weary him with my lamentations. 
 
 I have already said that to the. minds of his 
 contemporaries Napoleon appeared as an irresistible 
 Fate ; and this is true. Imagine, then, the bewilder- 
 ment of aU those who, though crushed under that 
 enormous weight, and without hope of rescue, con- 
 tinued to chafe under injustice and disgrace, when 
 the first ray of a possible redemption gleamed forth, 
 — ^when came the earliest tidings of the report, borne 
 almost on the wind, Napoleon is vanquished! Na- 
 poleon is retreating ! 
 
 I felt the reaction — I know its effects ; and al- 
 though even it has not made me regret Napoleon 
 and French dominion in Italy, it is none the less 
 true that we lost a government which, sooner or 
 later, would have secured the triumph of those 
 principles which are the life of human society, to 
 revert to a government of ignorant and imbecile 
 men, full of vanity and prejudice. But no one at 
 that time gave it a thought ; or even had it occurred 
 to them, I believe every one (my father and I cer- 
 tainly) would have said : " Eather the devil than 
 the French I" And because this feeling is so strpng 
 in Piedmont, it has never been long under a foreign 
 yoke. 
 
 The first uncertain rumour became an undoubted 
 
164 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 certainty. The famous twenty -ninth bulletin an- 
 nounced a tremendous disaster, so great as scarcely 
 to obtain belief. The whole population was aroused 
 as if by an electric shock, — it was moved and shaken 
 to its centre, and agitated by hopes and fears, by 
 unlooked-for joys and by unknown terrors; for, 
 after all, he still lived, — a time so well described by 
 these words of the poet : 
 
 " Un Tolgo disperse, repente si desta, 
 Protende 1' orecchio, soUeva la testa."* 
 
 " A scatter'd crowd, aroused to sudden life. 
 With ear intent uplifts its eager head." 
 
 Meanwhile the tide of good news rose higher 
 each day. Like Italy, Europe was rousing herself 
 at the great discovery that Napoleon could be beaten. 
 Nations called to one another like soldiers waking in 
 a camp ; they clasped hands and banded themselves 
 together in readiness to rush with one accord upon 
 the great wounded lion. 
 
 The year 1813 passed amid the anxieties of 
 alternate victory and defeat: gradually^ however, 
 
 * These lines may be found in Manzoni's tragedy Adelehi, and 
 are from the following beautiful passage : 
 
 " Dagli atrii musoosi, dai fori oadenti, 
 Dai bosohi, dall' arse fucine stridenti, 
 Dai solchi bagnati di servo sudor, 
 Un volgo disperse, repente si desta, 
 Protende 1' orecchio, solleva la testa, 
 Peroosso da novo cresoente romor," 
 
HORKOES OF WAR. 165 
 
 appeared long trains of military and civil officials, 
 the last adherents of a falling power, dislodged 
 and driven by the enemy like chaff before the wind. 
 Then came ragged soldiers, with emaciated faces, 
 and sad, dejected looks, their wonted arrogance laid 
 aside; next there followed in constant succession 
 ambulances, wagons, and carts, laden with wounded. 
 New hospitals were prepared. The beds being in- 
 sufficient, the want was supplied by layers of straw 
 on the floor, first in one row, then in two, then all , 
 jumbled together, until there was no room for more : 
 some remained under a doorway, others sought any 
 imperfect shelter they could find. Exposed to snoM' 
 and rain, they died firom hardships, as so many had 
 already perished by the way, after what amount of suf- 
 fering heaven only knows, — shaken in rough carts, 
 buried under the weight of their comrades. I often 
 saw these carts unload their sad burdens : how many 
 young men, mere lads, when hfted up were found 
 to be dead, and thrust aside, then rudely dragged 
 by the feet into a comer, there to await the grave- 
 digger! How many fathers comfortless in their old 
 age, how many mothers without support, how many 
 forlorn widows, how many families made desolate or 
 extinct, were represented by a single cart-load ! And 
 for what ? for whom ? 
 
 I believe those early and ineffaceable impres- 
 
166 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 sions riveted for ever within my inmost soul that 
 profound abhorrence of conquerors, and all the 
 ambitious and wicked host, who, not content with 
 shedding the blood of one or two hundred thousand 
 men for the gratification of a caprice, have also even 
 succeeded in attracting the admu-ation and enthu- 
 siasm, I might almost say the adoration, of all the 
 fools whose lives they hold so cheap. It may be ima- 
 gined how great was my father's joy at the downfall 
 . of the grandest and most invincible of tyrannies. It 
 also offered a rare occasion of impressing true ideas 
 and virtuous .principles on his children, and he was 
 not the man to neglect the opportmiity. 
 
 Even in ordinary times, my brother Em:ico and 
 I (the two youngest) were taken by our priest to 
 visit the sick poor in their garrets. This is a very 
 good plan. For many reasons it is well that the 
 rich should be acquainted with the poor, and that 
 the latter should come in contact with the former. 
 We used to carry alms and comforts to the destitute. 
 Those who have young people to educate should 
 follow this system of my father's. A child cannot 
 learn too soon that every one does not find his dinner 
 put on the table at the sound of a bell. 
 
 But in this great calamity, this influx of fresh 
 misery, he sent us to the military hospitals, and was 
 not withheld by fears of typhus or other contagious 
 
RELIEF TO THE "WOTINDED. 167 
 
 fevers wMcli raged there ; and I still rememter the 
 painful spectacle of the poor wounded thrown on a 
 heap of old and rotten straw, wrapped in dirty rags, 
 to whom we took the few comforts it was possible to 
 dispense while so many had to be cared for. Our 
 father in this way taught us to see in a wounded, 
 cast-down, and miserable man, not a stranger. 
 Frenchman, German, or Chinese, but a brother, or, 
 better still, a feUow-creature — (the word "brother" 
 seems to be now a debased and worn-out term) — 
 whom you must help and support for the love of 
 Christ, if you are a Christian ; if not, for the love 
 of God ; if you are an atheist, for your own sake, 
 and be d — d to you ! These principles, thank Heaven, 
 were never effaced from my heart; and when, in 
 after-years, prisoners of war, wounded and suffer- 
 ing, fell into my hands, I do not think they had 
 reason to complain of me. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Fall of Napoleon — Germans and French — A hint to France — 
 Love for the detested German — Civic guard — Emancipation 
 and farewell to Don Andreis — 1 become a sportsman — ^A few 
 words to my priest — My first excommunication — it does not 
 last long — Pious fraud andjne credendum — Entrance of Vic- 
 tor Emanuel I. — The royal family going about — My father 
 Minister ad interim at Eome — Arrival in Eome — State of 
 Europe and Kome — Blunders of the restoration — Napoleonico- 
 Jesuitio despotism — We settle in Rome — Our acquaintances — 
 Art and literature. 
 
 At last, one blessed day, came the glad tidings that 
 Napoleon was no longer our master, and that we 
 were, or were about to become, free and indepen- 
 dent once more. He who was not at Turin on that 
 day can form no idea of the delirious joy of a whole 
 population at its utmost height. 
 
 Feeling deeply the debt of gratitude we owe to 
 the house of Napoleon ; knowing so well the value 
 of every drop of that generous French blood shed on 
 Italian soil for its ultimate renewal, I cannot say it 
 without remorse, but I must nevertheless bear witness, 
 because it is the truth, to the immense, the ineffable 
 happiness then caused by the departure of the French. 
 
 But here I must observe, that the difference be- 
 tween the French army of those days and that of 
 
GERMANS AKD FEENCH. 169 
 
 our own is as great as between darkness and light. 
 I do not speaJ? of its merit or valour as an army ; 
 this was and is beyond question ; but I am speak- 
 ing of the spirit, the habits, the sentiments, the con- 
 science, so to say, of the two armies. And under 
 this aspect the balance is undoubtedly in favour of 
 the present one. It has been said that the French 
 can make conquests, but not retain them : and this 
 is true. It has also been said, that the Germans 
 toil hard in taking the goods of others, but never let 
 go what is once in their clutches ; and this, as a 
 general rule, is equally true. Yet as regards good- 
 ness of character, which of the two nations is the 
 better? The French undoubtedly a hundred times. 
 How shall we explain this phenomenon? Simply by 
 the fact, that the French make you bear the burden 
 of their vanity, and load you with it as the Cyrenean 
 was laden with the Cross ; the Germans, on the con- 
 trary, make no difficulty about taking your cross on 
 their shoulders, on condition of being masters in 
 your house ! And men in general are so constituted 
 that in the end they will more readily tolerate a 
 master who fleeces them with a modest and humble 
 bearing, almost begging pardon for his audacity, 
 than one who, though he may be less rapacious, 
 makes them feel in his every word, look, and action, 
 that he is everything and they are nothing. If that 
 
170 MY KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 noble and generous nation could but exchange its 
 vanity for an honest pride like that of its neighbours 
 across the Channel, then indeed it would be the first 
 of all nations, past, present, or to come. And I have 
 far too good an opinion of that people to doubt that 
 ere long they will effect such a change. Not only the 
 army, but civil officials and private individuals have 
 made rapid progress since the downfall of the first 
 Empire ; and we all know the grateful memories left 
 in Italy by the French army of occupation, which 
 re-crossed the Alps three years ago. Under the first 
 Empire, on the contrary, men called after the depart- 
 ing French — ^^ May you never returnP'' In simple 
 truth, the insolence of the military and the civil 
 officials of those days was almost intolerable, and of 
 this I have a vivid recollection. I shall never forget 
 a scene which took place in our house just as the 
 French army was in fall retreat on Mont Cenis. A 
 major or colonel had been billeted in casa Azeglio. 
 Against this there was nothing to be said ; under such 
 pressing circumstances every one is bound to aid the 
 municipality. In this emergency my father hired a 
 suitable apartment in an hotel, in order to avoid any 
 disturbance at home (my mother being always an 
 invahd, and we children more or less young) ; but 
 the officer refused to content himself with this, and 
 insisted on taking the house by storm, making a 
 
A BAD-TEMPEEED COLONEL. 171 
 
 great uproar witli his threats and bad language, &c. 
 The worthy major's temper was doubtless ruffled, but 
 he was clearly in the wrong. My father (never very 
 famous for patience) confronted him at the top of 
 the staircase, seized him by the collar, hurled him 
 backwards ; he swore fearfully; and my father, in a 
 passion, gnashed his teeth with rage. The chap- 
 lain, Don Andreis, muttered objurgations; we, like 
 little dogs who bark when they feel they are sup- 
 ported, were bravely pouring forth our little insults 
 in French ; and Giacolin, Pylades, and the maids, 
 who brought up the rear, all made such an uproar, 
 that I think the poor major or colonel, whatever he 
 was, grew utterly bewildered, and was glad to beat a 
 speedy retreat. Down the staircase, across the yard, 
 and into the street, we aU rushed after him bare- 
 headed ; on seeing which, the people, as usual, ran out 
 of their shops, and a great crowd collected round us. 
 Finally, seeing that all this would have ended in a 
 regular squabble, we agreed to compromise matters ; 
 the colonel retired to his inn, and we returned home 
 to rest on our laurels. 
 
 To the joy of witnessing the French departure, 
 succeeded another, not its equal, but stUl a great one : 
 this was, the arrival of the Austrians ! — Yerily, dear 
 reader, I am feeling myself aU over to see if it 
 can really be /who wrote that phrase. And I find 
 
172 - MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 it is I myself in person, body and soul. — I need not, 
 however, explain what ideas were then represented 
 by the Austrians, and what they have since become. 
 The period of a change of masters has always been 
 a harvest for every species of rogue. To save our 
 pockets, a civic force was soon organised, which re- 
 ceived the name of the Urban Gruard. I was then 
 nearly sixteen, but tall and strong as if I had been 
 twenty, with a mania for seeing, doing, and rushing 
 about, all life and spirits, le diable au corps, and an 
 irresistible desire to tear away somewhere like an 
 unbroken colt. The occasion was most favourable, 
 the whole country being in commotion ; my father, as 
 may be imagined, was occupied with various interests 
 and hopes, which kept him anxious, and prevented 
 him from paying his usual attention to domestic 
 concerns; I had only to defeat poor Don Andreis, 
 and my victory would be entire, absolute, and com- 
 plete. 
 
 Here I must take leave of that good priest, who, 
 although somewhat narrow-minded, was in all other 
 respects an excellent soul, and conscientiously tried 
 aU in his power to do me good. I shall always think 
 of him with affectionate gratitude, and retain a 
 sincere esteem for his memory, the more so as his 
 extreme dulness prevented my appreciating his good 
 qualities and made me harsh in my judgment of him. 
 
. MT FIRST GUN. 173 
 
 It is really wonderM how mucli mischief is uncon- 
 sciously done by pure stupidity. 
 
 I must now summon up resolution for the con- 
 fession of that which, if it may not be called our 
 last farewell, occurred but a very short time before 
 our final separation. 
 
 Our holidays were usually spent at a villa situ- 
 ated on the hiU behind MoncaJieri, not far from a 
 little town called EevigHasco. There we only studied 
 enough to prevent our forgetting what we had pre- 
 viously learnt ; the rest of our time was devoted to 
 out-door exercises, running, jumping, shooting, &c. 
 I had discovered in a garret an old gun, which 
 must certainly have done duty in the war of the 
 PoKsh Succession, and by dint of ingenuity and pains- 
 taMng I contrived to make it serviceable. Armed 
 with this wonderful weapon, I went out shooting 
 with my brothers and the priest, using it surrepti- 
 tiously at first, and then, finding I was not checked, 
 almost openly, but stiU unknown to my father. 
 This gun, in addition to some unknown internal 
 disorder, had also another imperfection, of which I 
 was but too well aware — that of kicking most vio- 
 lently every time it was fired ofi". This betrayed me, 
 as I soon had a terrible bruise on the right cheek- 
 bone, which at last attracted the attention of my 
 father. This discovery did not lead to any un- 
 
174 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 pleasant consequences, and I escaped with a simple 
 admonition; nay, my father, touched by the pitiful 
 bruise on my face, gave me a new gun on my birth- 
 day, which at least had the merit of leaving my 
 cheek-bone in peace. In one of these shooting par- 
 ties, finding myself alone with poor Don Andreis, I 
 began to quarrel with him — for what reason I have 
 forgotten, but no doubt a very trifling one — and 
 gradually waxed into a towering passion. Words 
 ran high, presently they became shouts, then we lost 
 aU control. I really know not who began, probably 
 I, or perhaps both at once, but we fell upon each 
 other with clenched fists, making full use of all the 
 weapons supplied by nature, fortunately not of those 
 invented by man. As I was very tall, robust, and 
 active as a cat, and as, moreover, every blow I dealt 
 represented the long-rrepressed vengeance of nearly 
 five years, the drubbing was no child's-play. For 
 the time I was blind with passion; and the poor 
 priest escaped from my hands bruised aU over, rag- 
 ged, bleeding, and fearfully discomfited. As was 
 only natural, he reported of me accordingly. 
 
 I expected nothing short of annihilation. The 
 same evening the curate of Revighasco, a certain Don 
 Rinaldi, who was very intimate with my family, 
 took me aside, and told me that my father was ter- 
 ribly angry, and did not consider me worthy of 
 
I AM EXCOMMUNICATED. 175 
 
 being admitted into his presence ; and as the parish 
 priest, he (Don Kinaldi) was obliged to warn me that 
 I had incurred the penalty of excommunication, be- 
 cause qui percutiet clericum, suadente diabolo, &c. I 
 listened with bowed head, awaiting some other con- 
 clusion; perceiving, however, that none was forth- 
 coming, I timidly looked up, and asked very humbly 
 to what punishment I was condemned by this excom- 
 munication, that I might know how to behave my- 
 self. " You are now," said the curate, " a separated 
 member of the church militant, and cannot partici- 
 pate in any act of worship imtil it pleases the bishop 
 to relieve you from the censure you have incurred." 
 I must explain that there was a private chapel in our 
 villa, where we all had to say the rosary together 
 every night, with such an addenda of oremus, litanies, 
 and other prayers, that it seemed never to come to an 
 end ; and to me it was a perfect martyrdom. My 
 thoughts immediately reverted to the said rosary, and 
 I inquired in a doleful voice, " Not even the rosary ?" 
 
 " No, sir ; I have already told you that you can- 
 not share in any act of worship." 
 
 A quelque chose malheur est bon, was my internal 
 comment on the above, and at that moment I posi- 
 tively blessed, suadente diabolo, those most holy cuffs 
 I had administered to the priest. From that day 
 forward there were no more masses, prayers, or no- 
 
176 MY EECOLLEOTIONS. 
 
 venas for me ; and during the rosary I went into a 
 hayfield to hunt grasshoppers. It was quite a delight- 
 ful respite. But the Archbishop of Turin spoiled all : a 
 few days after, the curate called me into the sacristy, 
 and read aloud the contents of a letter to me. It 
 was a pardon for my crime granted by the ordinary 
 superior, absolving me from every excommunication 
 or censure I had incurred, on condition &c. ; it being 
 understood &c. ; provided &c. 
 
 So, with as cheerfid and relieved a countenance 
 as I could contrive to muster, I was once more ad- 
 mitted within the unattractive pale of that evening 
 rosary ; to the great glory, reKef, and satisfaction of 
 the grasshoppers in the hayfield. From that time 
 forward I could never rid myself of the suspicion, 
 which afterwards became a certainty, that the excom- 
 munication and the letter of the bishop were merely 
 a comedy intended to make a profound impression on 
 my mind, and to prevent me from fighting any more 
 priests, were I to live a hundred years. It was, 
 in fact, a pious fraud, near akin to the pie creden- 
 dum. All frauds, however, be they pious or impious, 
 have the great defect of being very liable to dis- 
 covery, and are indeed invariably brought to Ught, 
 when, instead of improving matters, they only make 
 them worse. One may almost compare the practice 
 of frauds to that of dram-drinking : though seeming 
 
MY FIRST MILITARY STEP. 17? 
 
 to impart strength at first, in the end it leaves one 
 weaker than before. 
 
 My admission to the ranks of the Urban Guard, 
 easily obtained, formed the first step in my military 
 career, and put an end to my education. I recom- 
 menced it later by myself, as soon as I had re- 
 covered, or rather acquired a little common sense. 
 My new-born warlike enthusiasm was not displeasing 
 to my father ; but not wishing to leave me quite my 
 own master before the age of sixteen, he took the 
 trouble to join the same service, to mount guard, 
 patrol, and drill on the parade-ground with the rest 
 of us. 
 
 King Victor Emanuel I. had meanwhile left 
 Cagliari, and was daily expected to arrive. Native 
 troops there were none ; the Urban Guard therefore 
 had to do duty on the occasion of his entrance into 
 Turin, and we were very busy, both officers and 
 men, learning at least how to form fine and break 
 into column, without getting into complete confusion. 
 At last, on the twentieth of May, the beloved and 
 long-expected King arrived. I was under arms in 
 Piazza Castello, and I well remember the group 
 formed by the king and his staff. Got up in the old- 
 fashioned style, with powdered hair, bags and pig- 
 tails, and wonderful cocked-hats a la Frederick II., 
 they presented on the whole a somewhat comical 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
178 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 appearance. To me, however, and to every one else, 
 it all looked very grand, and quite en rhgle; the usual 
 cris mille fois ripitis greeted the good prince, with 
 such enthusiasm as to remove all doubt of the affection 
 and sympathy of his faithful Turinese. In the even- 
 ing there was, of course, a grand illumination, which 
 was equally splendid and spontaneous. The court, 
 that is to say the liing, the queen, and the princesses, 
 appeared in public, if I mistake not without any 
 suite or formality. I know not whether the horses 
 and carriages of Prince Borghese* had disappeared ; 
 but even had they been forthcoming, the royal family 
 would most Kkely have declined to use them. I 
 know very well that his majesty had not even a 
 carriage or a pair of horses ; upon which my father 
 offered him a huge antiquated chariot, which had 
 done duty at his marriage, all gilding and glass, 
 with dropsical Cupids painted on the panels. In this 
 coach sat the good king, with his kind face, which 
 though, it must be owned, not over-inteUectual, was 
 that of a thoroughly honest man (as was proved 
 in 1821), and tiU one o'clock in the morning he 
 drove slowly up and down the streets of Turin, amid 
 the huzzas of the crowd, distributing smiles and sa- 
 lutations right and left, whence naturally resulted an 
 
 * Governor of Piedmont under Napoleon, whose sister Pauline 
 he had married. 
 
I GO TO ROME. 179 
 
 incessant wagging to and fro of his pigtail, wHch for 
 young folks of my age had already become an tm- 
 nsual sight. 
 
 This year witnessed the return of all the dethroned 
 princes to their capitals. That of the Pope was known 
 to be near at hand; and it was the king's wish that 
 he should as early as possible receive a welcome 
 from the head of the House of Savoy, in which 
 respect for the person of the pontiff is as much a 
 tradition as its firmness in resisting the encroach- 
 ments of the court of Rome. My father was chosen 
 as the ambassador ; and it would have been impos- 
 sible to select a more fitting representative of the 
 pohtical principles and the religious creed of the 
 two sovereigns. 
 
 This appointment made and announced, it was 
 necessary to start at once. My poor mother, who, 
 notwithstanding the joy of recent events, was still 
 in very weak health, was alarmed at the idea of 
 my remaining in her care, wUd and refractory as 
 I then was; and my father readily consented to 
 take me with him. We started in two carriages, 
 and took Prospero with us ; for on the re-establish- 
 ment of the Jesuits he had determined to enter 
 their Order. AU Italy was in wonderftd conftision. 
 Itahans of all classes were returning, civil officials, 
 soldiers, &c. ; the French were hurrying away ; and 
 
180 MY EBCOLLECTIONS. 
 
 all the roads were swarming with two opposite liv- 
 ing currents, like those of an ant's-nest. 
 
 I remember that, before crossing the Apennines, 
 we met with a poor Roman lad who was returning 
 half-disabled from the army. I entered into conver- 
 sation with him at a place where the horses were 
 obKged to slacken their pace, and made him get 
 up behind the carriage; so that, instead of having 
 to toil on foot for heaven knows how many weary 
 miles, he very soon reached his home. 
 
 We arrived in Rome late at night, about the 
 middle of June. On entering the city, we found stiU 
 standing the triumphal arches of plastered canvas, 
 erected at Papagiulio and at Ponte MoUe to celebrate 
 the return of Pius VII. , which had taken place only 
 a few days before. We alighted in Piazza MignaneUi 
 at the palace, situated at the farther end of it, which 
 was then a hotel. Next morning, without loss of 
 time (a symptom of Roman atmosphere), we had a 
 street serenade under oiu' windows, in which trum- 
 pets and drums took a leading part. " What is it?" 
 We were answered, " His Hohness's household wel- 
 coming the arrival of Vostra Eccellenza ;" a cordial 
 mode of greeting, which every man of feeling is ex- 
 pected to acknowledge at once by a handful of scudi. 
 
 Rome, and one might almost say Europe, then 
 offered a spectacle which can best be described by 
 
A PAPA NETO. 181 
 
 comparing it to a tract of country upon which a 
 hurricane has spent its fury before sweeping on to 
 other lands. The iiahabitants stare in each other's 
 faces, and rejoice together, on finding themselves still 
 ahve. They gaze in astonishment at the fields, the 
 crumbling banks, the ruins, the floods, the vener- 
 able trees torn up by the roots, and the shattered 
 walls of maroofed cottages : but they themselves have 
 survived; the storm has passed away; the damage, 
 therefore, is not irreparable. Cheer up! it is but 
 a question of money and time. They aU set to work 
 heartily, singing, and encouraging each other. Some 
 make repairs, others prop the ruins and clear the 
 roads; some restore what is old, others build up 
 afresh. Such, at that time, was Europe; such was 
 Rome. 
 
 The Romans had not as yet expei-ienced a papa 
 neto, Hke the rey neto of the Spaniards. * It is well 
 known that, before the Revolution, the temporal 
 power was restrained by capitulations, provincial 
 and • municipal rights, usages and traditions ; and 
 was consequently infinitely less odious than that 
 established by Cardinal Consalvijf in paltry mimicry 
 
 * That is to say, the Eomans had not yet been under the yoke 
 of a true Pope, in the sense in which the Spaniards say El rey 
 neto, to signify the ideal of an absolute king. 
 
 f Brcole Consalvi was born at Eome in the year 1757, and 
 died in 1824. He had been Minister of War under Pius VI. (1789), 
 
182 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 of Napoleon. The latter had bequeathed to Europe 
 as a legacy the most ingenious machines and instru- 
 ments ever discovered by despotism since it began to 
 torment mankind — the police* and the bureaucracy. 
 
 Neither the Eomans nor Europe could then 
 foresee that the sovereigns, and the ministers repre- 
 senting the re-constituted governments, would be 
 so blind as not to perceive how different were the 
 men of 1814 from those of 1789, and not to know 
 that they would certainly be most unwilling to give 
 up that portion of good to which the great genius 
 of Napoleon and the changes wrought by time had 
 accustomed them. The princes and their ministers 
 who returned from exile found it convenient to ac- 
 cept the heritage of Napoleon svh conditione; they 
 retained the police and tlie bm'eaucracy, the taxes, 
 enormous standing armies, and so forth; but the 
 good system of judicial and civil administration, the 
 impulse given to science and personal merit, equalisa- 
 tion of classes, improvement and increase of com- 
 
 was created a Cardinal by Pius VII., went to Paris in 1801, and 
 signed the famous Concordat. Napoleon, wlio was well aware, 
 however, of his indefatigable hostility, procured his removal from 
 power for a few years, and even kept him prisoner in France for 
 some time. In 1814 he went back to Eome, and once more be- 
 came the Papal Secretary of State. 
 
 * This word here means that infamous spy-system and repres- 
 sion of all individual liberty inaugurated in Italy after 1814. 
 
RESTOEATION. 183 
 
 munlcation, liberty of conscience, and many other 
 excellent features in the government of the great 
 conqueror, were all ruthlessly flung aside. In Italy 
 especially the state of politics, the new despotism, 
 might be thus defined : Napoleon in the guise of 
 a Jesuit, or the lance of Achilles in the hands of 
 Thersites ! 
 
 The two countries conspicuous beyond all others 
 for this astute and far-sighted policy were Homo 
 and Turin. Of the latter I shall speak farther on. 
 Meanwhile in Rome everything was restored as in 
 temporibus illis. I witnessed the return of the Bar- 
 gello (the odious chief of the old bloodhounds of the 
 pohce) and his familiars, the revival of the sbirri, the 
 rack, &c., and all its dismal associates. 
 
 But at that time neither I nor the Romans gave 
 much heed to politics. The town seemed to me full 
 of life and enjoyment, and I revelled in all its novel 
 splendours with the ardent vivacity of youth. 
 
 Pius VII. immediately granted my father an 
 audience, and received him with the favour deserved 
 by so staunch a supporter of the Holy See, who had 
 lately given such courageous assistance to the per- 
 secuted cardinals and bishops, and who was now 
 the envoy of the pious and devoted King of Sar- 
 dinia. 
 
 My father was instructed to acquit himself, first 
 
184 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 of all, of his special mission of congratulating the 
 Pope on his happy retui-n, and then to remain 
 temporarily at Eome, as minister, until the arrival 
 of the Marquis San Saturnine, who had been ap- 
 pointed our resident representative at the pontifical 
 court. We accordingly took an apartment at the 
 Fiano Palace in the Corso, and prepared for the 
 necessary official representation ; so that I found 
 myself transformed almost unawares into a diplo- 
 matist, half secretary of the embassy and attachS. 
 In one month, from a student at the university, I 
 had become a diplomatist, wearing the rmiform of 
 a certain guard instituted at the arrival of the King, 
 and having first of all passed through the stage of 
 the civic guard. Was this a foretaste of the mani- 
 fold transformations and metamorphoses I was des- 
 tined to undergo in the course of my long career? 
 My official rank gave me the entree to the best 
 clerical and lay society in Rome, as well as to the 
 diplomatic body, then only in process of formation, 
 as all the governments had so many things on hand, 
 that they were unable to attend to any one thing 
 uninterruptedly. 
 
 The Count of Lebzeltern soon appeared on behalf 
 of Austria ; a certain Abbe Sarabucy, if I recollect 
 rightly, represented France ad interim ; I do not 
 remember any others in the first instance. Cardinal 
 
ARTISTIC ACQUAINTANCES. 185 
 
 Gonsalvi was at the Congress of Vienna. Cardinals 
 Pacca, Somaglia, De-Gregorio, were all intimate 
 with my father; as were also Monsignori Morozzo 
 (my grand imcle), Kiario, Frosini, Ugolini, — aU 
 subsequently cardinals, — and many others. We fre- 
 quently saw the Massimos, the Patrizis, the Torlo- 
 nias, and the Piccolominis ; but I, who even at that 
 time preferred the friendship of kind and cordial peo- 
 ple rather than the gratification of vanity by seeking 
 acquaintances in high places, contracted an intimacy 
 with a family named Orengo, of Piedmontese extrac- 
 tion, which had been settled in Eome for about a 
 hundred years. From that time forward these good 
 people ever treated me with the utmost kindness and 
 affection, and I am always happy to have an oppor- 
 tunity of expressing the sincere gratitude I have 
 retained for them. 
 
 Art and literature were represented in Rome 
 by a great many distinguished and illustrious men. 
 I made the acquaintance of Canova, Thorwaldsen, 
 Eauch, Camuccini, Landi, Chauvin; the poet Ferretti, 
 author of several of Rossini's librettos ; the Abate 
 Coppi; and the dramatic author Grherardo de Rossi. 
 
 AU this society was pervaded by a brilliant ani- 
 mation and stirring hfe. Napoleon had fouetti le 
 sang of that generation ; and it was widely different 
 from that sluggish type which has since flourished 
 
186 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 for many years amongst us, under the shadow of 
 the broad-brimmed Jesuit hat, and the microscopic 
 thrones of the Austro-Bourbonist- Italian kinglets ; 
 Heaven rest their souls ! In this exhilarating atmo- 
 sphere I imbibed with avidity " the fresh breezes of 
 a new spiritual existence," and felt that this at last 
 was life. 
 
CHAPTEE X. 
 
 We explore ancient and modem Eome — Visoonti — Malvotti — Be- 
 ginning of a bad period — Man is to be judged by his sincerity, 
 and not by his flag — I acquire a taste for Painting — My first 
 Master — I talie to Music again — Violicemialo — Music is a mys- 
 tery — Dreams on Music — Similitude between the human mind 
 and body — Diplomacy — Murat — I am made a Comet — My 
 Brother joins the Jesuits — ^Wish to make me a " Monsignore" 
 — My impressions of Rome; — Fleuve Axi tendre — Canon Spaziani 
 — Donna Teresa Bracucci — Monsignor Branoadoro — Boccaccio 
 and John Huss, 
 
 AccoEDiKG to my father's system of education, we 
 were never to lose time, but always to find the best 
 means of employing it under the circumstances in 
 which we happened to be placed. On this occasion 
 the best plan obviously was to avail ourselves of the 
 opportunity of seeing Rome. With this object we 
 began our round of the city, accompanied first by 
 Signer Visconti, an antiquary, a son or nephew of 
 Ennio Quirino;* and afterwards with a painter — 
 Signer Malvotti. 
 
 Every one then accepted Roman history as the 
 ancients had transmitted it to us, without further 
 
 * Ennlo Quirino Visconti was the celebrated arch^ologist 
 who published the well-known work on Greek and Roman icono- 
 graphy. 
 
188 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 inquiry ; the valuable modern works of Niebuhr 
 and his countrymen, of Mieali, Thierry, Ampfere, 
 and many others, on the origin of the Italians, had 
 not yet, I will not say discovered the truth, but at 
 least proved with how much reserve the bulk of 
 ancient history is to be received. From the instruc- 
 tion of Signer Visconti we gained nothing beyond a 
 confirmation of facts we already knew ; and we went 
 through a most minute investigation of the antiqui- 
 ties (a task rendered unnecessarily long and tedious 
 by cicerones, door-keepers, &c., for the purpose of 
 extracting the inevitable three paoli from the pockets 
 of the visitors as often as possible) ; without omitting, 
 a single stone, and accepting Romulus, Clelia, Scse- 
 vola, Horatius at the Pons Sublicius, &c., in short 
 all the dramatis personw of that great drama, with 
 the blind faith of a Mussulman. 
 
 Under the government of the priests, archaeology 
 was one of the few permitted studies. It would re- 
 quire a very powerful imagination to discover in it 
 any revolutionary tendencies. I must, however, con- 
 fess that the venerable relics which produced so great 
 an effect on the genius of Gibbon and Groethe made 
 but a faint impression on my youthful mind. In 
 those days I preferred novelties to antiquities ; and 
 Signer Malvotti was exactly of my opinion in tliis 
 respect. With him we resumed our survey of Eome 
 
MY TWO GUIDES. 189 
 
 and its environs ; but this time from an artistic point 
 of view. We visited all the museums of sculpture, 
 picture-galleries, churches, palaces, and buildings 
 containing things worthy of note. This second tour 
 interested me much more than the first. I must 
 acknowledge that the character of my new mentor 
 had no small share in this preference. 
 
 Signor Yisconti was an old white-haired man, 
 dressed in black, with knee-breeches, and a three- 
 cornered hat as large as a house ; and nothing in- 
 duced him to converse on any subject but his own. 
 Malvotti, on the contrary, was a man of thirty, of 
 easy manners and high spirits, in short, a regular 
 mad-cap, as artists usually were before the invention 
 of les hommes sirieuw ; he talked about everything 
 on earth, visible and invisible ; and when my clerical 
 brother was out of hearing, he would also expatiate 
 on everything enjoyable by frail mankind. Scamps 
 always recognise each other at a glance, and Signor 
 Malvotti and I had estabhshed an understanding be- 
 fore we had exchanged many words. 
 
 When this second survey of Eome was finished, 
 Prospero began cultivating the society of the Jesuits, 
 whose reHgious habit he was so soon to wear ; while 
 I under the guidance of the free and easy Malvotti, 
 having finished my inspection of pictures and statues, 
 turned my attention to their living originals. And 
 
190 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 now begins one of the worse phases of my life ; the 
 remembrance of which I would gladly banish, as it 
 must ever be a som-ce of regret and shame. But, on 
 the contrary, I remember it as if it were yesterday; 
 only that in recalling myself as I then was, I seem to 
 be thinking of quite another being, of some disre- 
 putable companion whom I had picked up, and after- 
 wards dropped as bad company. And this is really 
 true, thank Heaven ; the Massimo of those days has 
 been thoroughly thrown aside ; I shook him off four 
 or five years later, like a soiled garment. I would 
 fain blot out those years ; but it cannot be : I must 
 be honest not only with the reader, but with my- 
 self ; otherwise I should be treating my story like a 
 half-decayed pear, the spoilt part of which I should 
 cut out, and present only the sound portion; and 
 by so doing I might end by deceiving even my- 
 self. 
 
 If I too early exceeded the Hmits of wholesome re- 
 straint, I owe it to Signor Malvotti alone. How was 
 it, I shaU be asked, that my father had not chosen 
 me a safer guide ? A monsignore had recommended 
 the man ; and it was assumed that a monsignore 
 could not possibly err, either firom negligence, ig- 
 norance, or design. The profound sincerity of my 
 father's religious sentiments, as well as his unshaken 
 faith, inspired him with a sort of exalted affection 
 
DISEEGAED FOE EOMAN EUINS. 191 
 
 for the Pope in the first place, and then for the whole 
 hierarchy of the church; and the rogues of the clerical 
 party, both laymen and ecclesiastics, took advantage 
 of his straightforward and noble nature on several 
 occasions, which I shall have an opportunity of men- 
 tioning by and by. From this we may deduce a 
 precept of great practical utility. 
 
 In factious times, past and present, we fall into 
 the habit of calHng the men of our own party good, 
 and our adversaries lad; as if it were possible that 
 a coimtry should be divided into two distinct bodies ; 
 five millions of honest men, for instance, on one side, 
 and , five millions of rascals on the other. Men who 
 profess these ideas are, as is natural, often bam- 
 boozled, or worse, by a scoundrel, whom they believe 
 honest for no other reason than that he belongs to 
 their own party. To avoid this, let us forbear from 
 selecting friends and confidants only on account of 
 their poHtical opinions; and let us remember that, 
 if two different opinions professed by two opposite 
 parties cannot be equally true, logical, and good, two 
 men belonging to the said opposite parties are just 
 as likely to be two arrant knaves as two honest 
 men. 
 
 During my stay in Eome in 1814, the taste for 
 painting, which has never since left me, began to 
 develop itself If the antiquities and the remains 
 
192 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 of Roman greatness did not make much impression 
 upon me,* I was at least struck by the greater and 
 more durable grandeur of the 
 
 " Vasta insalubre region, che stato 
 
 Si va nomando." 
 " The vast unwholesome region, which a state 
 
 Men call." 
 
 All very true ; but it is nevertheless a region which, 
 like some of those fair women born under its skies, 
 wiU ever remain the passion, the poetry, and the des- 
 pair of the artist. It is impossible to say why, but 
 
 * Foreigners may find it hard to tmderstand, but I believe 
 many Italians share this sentiment of the illustrious Massimo 
 d'Azeglio. At all events, such was the impression made upon 
 me by the Eternal City. On my own first visit to Eome, in 
 the year 1858, I was intensely anxious to behold the celebrated 
 ruins of which I had heard so much. I arrived late at night, 
 and next morning at daybreak I hurried to the Forum. The 
 solitude and stillness combined to render the spectacle of mu- 
 tilated columns, fallen arches, and crumbling temples even more 
 striking ; yet I felt conscious of a sad deception. Though I fully 
 appreciated the artistic beauty of the relics before me, I was 
 still more impressed by the image they afforded of the forfeited 
 independence, broken fortunes, and utter downfall of Italy. As 
 I turned back, lost in a thousand reflections, I met a few fo- 
 reigners escorted by their cioerones, and was reminded that Italy 
 had been called the land of the dead and of idle hotel-keepers. 
 Presently I was roused by the sound of bugles and drums, and 
 saw a French regiment march past the arch of Septimus Severus 
 to the Coliseum for their morning drUl, thus trampling under 
 foot the very remnants of our ancient greatness. Upon my soul, 
 I believe I forgot the Austrians at that moment 1 
 
FIEST PAINTING LESSONS. 193 
 
 once seen and known, their presence is enchanting, 
 and their absence death — to the heart. 
 
 The dull pedantry of drawing-lessons — that in- 
 variable appendage to every education — with the 
 usual course of noses, ears, mouths, &c. had utterly 
 wearied me. It is true, I used to sketch horses, 
 warriors, and a thousand things, on the margins of 
 my school and copy books; but Heaven forbid such 
 scrawling should be taken as a prognostic of fiiture 
 artistic eminence. Parents should remember this, 
 unless they wish to expose themselves to many un- 
 pleasant disappointments. At Rome, however, I 
 really felt within myself that internal fire, which 
 is the forerunner and promoter of the persevering 
 struggles of the soul with itself and the difficulties of 
 science or art. My father, to whom I confided my 
 feelings, helped me in every way with his usual in- 
 telligent affection. My first master was a native of 
 Calabria, called Don Ciccio de Capo ; but this Don 
 Ciccio, with his infantine name,* was eighty years 
 of age, and belonged to the old school which faded 
 into obHvion as the names of Yoogd, Verstappen, 
 Bassi, and Therlink, became known during the last 
 years of the Empire. The old artists were painters 
 of a conventionalist school; the new ones scrupu- 
 lously imitated nature. 
 
 * Ciccio is the Neapolitan diminutive for Francesco, 
 
 TOL. I. 
 
194 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Those who know Rome will recollect several 
 large landscapes which adorned the walls of the 
 CafFe del Veneziano in Piazza Sciarra ; very effec- 
 tive compositions, with great breadth of style. They 
 were the work of my good old master, who de- 
 serves a kindly remembrance on account of his 
 rare modesty. He used to teU me, in his Neapolitan 
 jabber : " Now, the new painters are very good; but 
 I, poor old man, — chiii (P accosi no saccio fare! — 
 more than this I cannot do !" Under his tuition 
 I began to daub canvas with oil, and to acquire 
 the habit of using a pallet and colours ; splashing 
 myself all over with paint, even to the nape of my 
 neck. 
 
 Besides painting, I also resumed the study of 
 music with great delight. I had previously begun it 
 in Turin, as part of the afore-mentioned programme 
 of a systematic education, with Maestro Tagliabd. 
 He had, however, never been able to make me go 
 through the seven notes without several blunders. At 
 Rome, on the contrary, I was fired with enthusiasm 
 for this agreeable branch of art, and took great pains 
 to learn it. The passion for music has grown upon 
 me ever since. 
 
 My father was a very good musician. He read 
 with great facility; and as, in those days, there 
 were no arrangements written for the pianoforte, he 
 
A MUSICAL JESUIT. 195 
 
 was obliged to accompany from the score itself, which 
 is exceedingly difficult, and requires a thorough ac- 
 quaintance with all the clefs. 
 
 His was a bass voice, full and expressive; not 
 flexible, but perfectly suited to the old style of music, 
 of which he was very fond. The Jesuit, however, 
 was the best musician of the family. He under- 
 stood counterpoint, and was the composer of several 
 pieces of sacred music, and might be considered an 
 excellent pianist, — in those days, I mean ; for since 
 then immense progress has been made in this as 
 well as in many other things. He even invented 
 a new instrument, called by him the Violioembalo, 
 in which the usual harpsichord key-board puts an 
 ingenious mechanism in motion, producing, from 
 the vibration of the chords, a sound similar to that 
 obtained by the action of a bow on a violin. This 
 instrument, with its sustained notes, had great power 
 of expression, but was more adapted for grave than 
 for lively melodies. The Emperor of Russia bought 
 one of these instruments. 
 
 As for me, I was never thoroughly acquainted 
 with music ; but nature had endowed me with a 
 rather pleasing and very flexible voice, and, if I mis- 
 take not, with a certain amount of taste for singing. 
 There was a time in which I thought of nothing 
 but semi-quavers ; but finding at last that it occa- 
 
196 MY EECOLLEOTIONS. 
 
 sioned too great a waste of time, I renounced it en- 
 tirely, together with the gay companions who had 
 helped me to warble my days away. This was one 
 of the few good deeds of my life. 
 
 And yet, of all the works of man, music is to 
 me the most marvellous and only inexplicable one. 
 Poetry, painting, sculpture, aU the imitative arts, 
 are comprehensible ; their very name suggests their 
 origin. Finding a model, mankind spent centuries 
 in trying to imitate it, and in the end succeeded. 
 Science is comprehensible. Granted the power of 
 reasoning, and I find no diiSculty in understanding 
 how each age has profited by the work of its pre- 
 decessor, and how humanity, raising itself on the 
 shoulders of former generations, has attained its 
 present height. But whence in all the universe came 
 music? This is a mystery similar to that of the 
 origin of languages. Yet music exists, and is innate 
 within us ; though not in all, it is true. I remem- 
 ber once, at a concert, Cobden whispered to me : " I 
 never could understand the meaning of the noise 
 they call music." The experiments made on the 
 monochord and on the prism, the relations which 
 exist between the distances of the notes and of the 
 colomrs, prove that harmony and dissonance are not 
 the results of human caprice, nor of an acoustic 
 conventionalism. But what explanation does this 
 
WHAT IS MUSIC ? 197 
 
 afford ? It may be said, I am losing myself in the 
 clouds ; still I must speak. Why is it that certain 
 melodies will bring tears to the eyes, like the sound 
 of a beloved voice, or the awaking of a sweet half- 
 vanished memory? And why, at other times, is 
 the whole being roused, the soul ennobled and ele- 
 vated, the wiU more resolute, the heart more true ? 
 .... How explain the influence of melody and 
 harmony on the moral qualities? What did those 
 notes impart ? Why should they fill the mind with 
 a craving for all that is beautiful, sublime, and good ? 
 May it not be that music is a lost language, the 
 meaning of which is forgotten, and only the har- 
 mony retained? May it not be a reminiscence ot 
 a language perhaps heard before or to be heard 
 hereafter? .... I descend from the clouds, and 
 return to terra firma. 
 
 Alas for human genius ! Bound to a fixed point, 
 it dwells within a narrow circle, beyond the limits 
 of which it can never range. Such is its doom. 
 
 This idea recurred to me only a few days since 
 on seeing a little goat tied to a tree. The poor 
 creature had but a few yards of tether, and a few 
 square feet whereon to browse ; it, too, complained, 
 in the timid tremulous bleating which constitutes 
 its language; it, too, looked beyond the limits as- 
 signed to its narrow circle, struggling to enlarge its 
 
198 MY KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 boundaries ; and it, too, .... strained and toiled in 
 vain ! 
 
 Away, then, -with vain regrets, and let us return 
 to our subject ! 
 
 My occupations in Eome were not entirely con- 
 fined to the domains of poetry and imagination. 
 It must not be forgotten that I was also a diplo- 
 matist; and in that capacity I had social as well 
 as official duties to perform. 
 
 The Holy Alliance had accepted the confession 
 and repentance of Murat, and had granted him ab- 
 solution ; but as the new convert inspired little con- 
 fidence, he was closely watched, in the expectation, 
 and perhaps the hope, of an opportunity of crown- 
 ing the work by the infliction of penance. 
 
 The penance intended was to deprive him of 
 his crown and sceptre, and to turn him out of 
 the pale. Like all the other diplomatists resident 
 in Eome, we kept om- Court well informed of all 
 that coiild be known or surmised regarding the in- 
 tentions of the Neapolitan Government; and I had 
 the lively occupation of copying page after page of 
 incomprehensible cipher for the newborn archives of 
 our legation. Such was my life at that time ; and, 
 in spite of the cipher, I soon found it pleasant 
 enough. Dinner-parties, balls, routs, and fashion- 
 able society did not then inspire me with the holy 
 
THE JESUITS' KESUREECTION. 199 
 
 horror which now keeps me away from them. Hav- 
 ing never before experienced or enjoyed anything 
 of the kind, I was satisfied. But in the midst of 
 my pleasure, our successor — Marquis San Saturnine 
 — made his appearance, and we had to prepare for 
 our departure. One consolation, however, remained. 
 I had just then been appointed to the high rank 
 of cornet in the crack dragoon regiment " Royal 
 Piedmont." I had never seen its uniform, but I 
 cherished a vague hope of being destined by For- 
 tune to wear a helmet; and the prospect of realis- 
 ing this splendid dream of my infancy prevented 
 me from regretting my Eoman acquaintances over- 
 much. 
 
 The Society of Jesus had meanwhile been re- 
 stored, and my brother was on the eve of taking 
 the vows. He availed himself of the last days left 
 him before that ceremony to sit for his portrait to 
 the painter Landi. This is one of that artist's best 
 works, who, poor man, cannot boast of many ; and 
 it now belongs to my nephew Emanuel.* 
 
 The day of the ceremony at length arrived, and 
 I accompanied my brother to the Convent of Monte 
 Cavallo, where it was to take place. 
 
 The Jesuits at that time were aU greatly rejoicing 
 at the revival of their order, and, as may be in- 
 * The present Marquis d'Azeglio, Italian Minister in London. 
 
200 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 ferred, they were mostly old men, with only a few 
 young novices among them. 
 
 We entered an oratory fragrant with the flowers 
 adorning the altar, full of silver ornaments, holy 
 images, and burning wax-lights, with half-closed 
 windows and carefully-drawn blinds ; for it is a cer- 
 tain, although unexplained, fact that men are more 
 devout in the dark than in the light, at night than 
 in the daytime, and with their eyes closed rather 
 than open. We were received by the Greneral of 
 the order. Father Panizzoni, a little old man, bent 
 double with age, his eyes encircled with red, half 
 blind, and I believe almost in his dotage. He was 
 shedding tears of joy, and we all maintained the 
 pious and serious aspect suited to the occasion, until 
 the time arrived for the novice to step forward, 
 when, lo ! Father Panizzoni advanced with open 
 arms towards the place where I stood, mistaking me 
 for my brother ; a blunder which, for a moment, 
 imperilled the solemnity of the assembly. 
 
 Had I yielded to the embrace of Father Paniz- 
 zoni, it would have been a wonderful bargain both 
 for him and me. But this was not the only invi- 
 tation I then received to enter upon a sacerdotal 
 career. Monsignor Morozzo, my great imcle and 
 godfather, then secretary to the bishops and regular 
 monks, one day proposed that I should enter the 
 
I MIGHT BE POPE ! 201 
 
 Ecclesiastical Academy, and follow the career of the 
 prelacy, under his patronage. The idea seemed so 
 absurd that I could not help laughing heartily, and 
 the subject was never revived. 
 
 Had I accepted these overtures, I might, in the 
 lapse of time, have long since been a cardinal, and 
 perhaps even Pope. And if so, I should have drawn 
 the world after me, as the shepherd entices a lamb 
 with a lump of salt. It was very wrong in me to 
 refuse. Doubtless the habit of expressing my opinion 
 to every one, and on all occasions, would have led 
 me into many difficulties. I must either have greatly 
 changed, or a very few years would have seen an 
 end of me. 
 
 We left Rome at last, in the middle of winter, 
 in an open carriage, and travelling chiefly by night, 
 as was my father's habit. While the horses are 
 trotting on, I wiU sum up the impressions of Rome 
 and the Roman world which I was carrying away. 
 The clearest idea present to my mind was, that the 
 priests of Rome and their religion had very little 
 in common with my father and Don Andreis, or 
 with the religion professed by them and by the 
 priests and the devout laity of Turin. I had not 
 been able to detect' the slightest trace of that which 
 in the language of asceticism is called unction. I 
 know not why, but that grave and downcast aspect. 
 
202 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 enlivened only by a few occasional flashes of pon- 
 derous clerical wit, the atmosphere depressing as 
 the plumbeus mister of Horace, in which I had been 
 brought up under the rule of my priest, — aU seemed 
 unknown at Rome. There I never met with a mon- 
 signore or a priest who did not step out with a pert 
 and jaunty air, his head erect, showing off a weU- 
 made leg, and daintily attired in the garb of a clerical 
 dandy. Their conversation turned upon every pos- 
 sible subject, and sometimes upon quibusdam aliis, 
 to such a degree that it was evident my father was 
 perpetually on thorns. I remember a certain prelate, 
 whom I will not name, and whose conduct was, I 
 believe, sufficiently free and easy, who at a dinner- 
 party at a villa near Porta Pia, related laughingly 
 some matrimonial anecdotes which I, at that time, 
 scarcely understood. And I remember also my poor 
 father's manifest distress, and his strenuous endea- 
 vours to change the conversation and direct it into 
 a different channel. 
 
 The prelates and priests whom I used to meet 
 in less orthodox companies than those frequented 
 by my father seemed to me still more free and 
 easy. Either in the present or in the past, in 
 theory or in practice, with more or less or even 
 no concealment, they all alike were sailing or had 
 sailed on the sweet jUiuve du tendre. For instance. 
 
FROLICSOME PRIESTS. 203 
 
 I met one old canon, bound to a venerable dame by 
 a tie of many years' standing. I also met a young 
 prelate with a pink-and-white complexion and eyes 
 expressive of anything but holiness. He was a' des- 
 perate votary of the fair sex, and swaggered about 
 paying his homage right and left. Will it be be- 
 lieved, this gay apostle actually told me, without 
 circumlocution, that in the monastery of Tor di 
 Speechi there dw«lt a youiig lady who was in love 
 with me ? I, who, of course, desired no better, took 
 the hint instantly, and had her pointed out to me. 
 Then began an interchange of silly messages, of 
 languishing looks, and a hundred absurdities of the 
 same kind ; all cut short by the pair of post-horses 
 which carried us out of the Porta del Popolo. 
 
 Wrapped in my cloak, and nestled in a corner 
 of the carriage, I meditated on all these discoveries 
 (for such at that time they were to me), with many 
 others besides, as we rolled along the road towards 
 Tuscany. 
 
 The opinions of my father respecting the clergy 
 and the Com't of Eome were certainly narrow and 
 prejudiced ; but with his good sense it was impos- 
 sible for him not to perceive what was manifest 
 even to a blind man. During our journey he kept 
 insinuating, without appearing, however, to attach 
 much importance to it, that it was always advisable 
 
204 MY EBCOLLECTIONS. 
 
 to speak with proper respect of a country where 
 we had been well received, even if we had noticed 
 a great many abuses and disorders. To a certain 
 extent, this counsel was well worthy of attention. 
 He was doubtless much grieved at the want of de- 
 cency apparent in one section of that society, or, to 
 use a modern expression, at its absence o? respect- 
 ability ; but he consoled himself by thinking, like 
 Abraham the Jew in the Decameron, that no better 
 proof can be given of the truth of the religion pro- 
 fessed by Eome, than the fact of its enduring in 
 such hands.* 
 
 This reason, however, is not quite conclusive ; 
 
 * Allusion is here made to Boccaccio's novel (ii.) of the First 
 Day of the Decameron, of which the following is the argument : 
 
 " Abraham the Jew, at the earnest request of one of his friends 
 (Jeannot de Chivigny), goes from Paris to Rome ; and being 
 shocked at the scandalous lives of the clergy, returns to Paris 
 and becomes a Christian." 
 
 The idea of the Jew, as expressed by Boccaccio at the end of 
 this novel, was, that if the Christian religion shone triumphantly 
 everywhere, in spite of clerical atrocities, it must be true and 
 worthy to be embraced. 
 
 The following words, put by Boccaccio into the mouth of 
 Abraham the Jew, are very suggestive. I take them from the 
 already-mentioned London edition of 1722 : 
 
 " That court seems rather to me to ape the devil than imitate 
 God, insomuch that I conceive your Pope and all his dependents, 
 who ought to be the protectors and the supporters of the Chris- 
 tian religion, take a great deal of pains to ruin and destroy it. 
 But in regard I see they do not succeed, but on the contrary that 
 your religion flourishes, and every day becomes more and more 
 
JOHN HUSS AND LUTHER. 205 
 
 for if Boccaccio had had patience to wait another 
 forty years, he would have learnt, first from John 
 Huss, and then from Luther and his followers, that 
 although in certain hands things may last awhile, 
 it is only till they are worn out. What Boccaccio 
 and the Jew would say if they were now to return 
 to life, I do not venture to surmise. 
 
 resp endent, I am entirely convinoed that it is the most sacred of 
 all religions, and that the Holy Spirit is its true protector." 
 
 Any reader desirous of further information respecting the 
 scandals witnessed at the Court of Eome by this judicious and 
 observant Jew had better read the whole of the novel from which 
 the above passage is extracted. He wOl, I am sure, derive both 
 pleasure and edification from itg perusal. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The helmet is secured — Reaction — Curious reoomposition of the 
 army — My father a bad courtier — Courtiers, and true danger 
 for princes — End of Don Andreis — I definitively join the regi- 
 ment — Injustice of my promotion — Well-founded humility — 
 I learn my drill conscientiously — Follies of our masters — My 
 love of justice — My dislike of aristocracy, and absurd ideas 
 on democracy — I become corrupted, and live with rowdies — 
 Quarrel with a brother-officer — My father is informed of it — 
 His visit — ^Advice to young men. 
 
 At two or three o'clock in the morning I at last 
 found myself at home again, groping my way in 
 the dark to my bed, which was in the same room as 
 that of my brother Enrico, who woke at the noise. 
 
 "Halloo, who's there?" — "It is I, Massimo, come 
 back from Rome ;" and in a twinkling I was in bed. 
 
 My first question was : " Has Royal Piedmont 
 got a helmet?" — "Yes." I drew a long breath; 
 after a few more questions we both fell fast asleep. 
 
 Scarcely a week had elapsed when one beautiful 
 sminy Sunday I at last felt that blessed helmet on 
 my head, and was enabled to contemplate myself in 
 a mirror in all the glory of full uniform, in which, 
 according to my fair flatterers, I was a rather good- 
 
BEARDLESS OFFICERS. 207 
 
 looking boy. At last I had the ineffable joy of re- 
 ceiving the mihtary salute from all the sentries, and 
 of parading in the streets tUl dusk, in order not to 
 defraud any of the inhabitants of Turin of the hap- 
 piness of admiring me on that memorable day. 
 
 The regiment was then in course of formation, 
 and I believe at that moment there was hardly a 
 troop mounted. The soldiers who retm-ned from 
 the French army were being enlisted, while old 
 officers who had been out of the service for many 
 years were recalled to command them. The plan 
 which was then resorted to for filling up the vacancies 
 both in the army and the civil service is very well 
 laiown. The court calendar, at the date of the 
 King's departure, was consulted ; all those who had 
 then held any office were re-instated, with the sole 
 exception of such as had died in the interval — a 
 statement by the bye which might have been left to 
 the sagacity of the reader. But not to mention the 
 gaps produced by death, the old officers were too few, 
 and it was necessary to appoint some younger ones. 
 
 I was of the number, and was made an officer at 
 once. And for what reason? only because, if the 
 reader still remembers it, in the year 1240, or 60, or 
 80 (it is curious that I myself have forgotten the 
 date), a certain knight Brenier Capel came to Sa- 
 vigliano, married there, and was fortmiate enough 
 
208 MT EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 to be the efficient cause of that long line of Tapa- 
 rellis of which I have the honour to be the last but 
 one. 
 
 As to those who returned from the Ereneh ser- 
 vice, they were readmitted, with the loss of one step ; 
 the corporal again became a private, the sergeant 
 a corporal, and so on up to captains and colonels, 
 whatever they might be. It was simply the world 
 turned upside-down ; for we young noblemen received, 
 without any desert of our own, that which was taken 
 away from veterans who had earned it by their valour 
 and their blood. We shall soon see the effects of 
 this injustice upon my mind. 
 
 I must not omit to say that my father had an 
 offer of returning to active service, for which he 
 had always felt an inclination. But he reftised, on 
 the plea that, after eighteen years of inactivity, he 
 should consider himself rather a burden than an 
 acquisition to the country, if he reentered the army. 
 He therefore remained a general on the retired list. 
 He was made a commander of the order of St. Mau- 
 rice and Lazarus, which at that time had its value 
 (the gallant chiefs of the Theban legion had not 
 yet become omnibus conductors) ;* and a year after- 
 wards he was appointed governor of Casale. 
 
 * The military order of St. Maurice was founded in 1434 by 
 Amadeus VIII. Duke of Savoy, in honour of St. Maurice, chief 
 
MY father's unpopularity. 209 
 
 But in spite of his past conduct, and the merits 
 and \'irtues with which the reader is acquainted, if he 
 has not skipped too many of these pages, mj father 
 was never very popular at court or in the higher 
 spheres of government. 
 
 The king was an honest man, and those by whom 
 he was surrounded were by no means dishonest; 
 the members of the aristocracy who had remained 
 in Piedmont, and had more or less bowed to the 
 power of Napoleon, received their share of honours 
 and dignities without much difBculty; and these 
 latter, generally speaking, were men of honour and 
 distinction; they all esteemed my father, they appre- 
 ciated his intellect and his erudition, nobody was his 
 enemy; but if each of these individuals dived into 
 
 of the Eoman legion called "Theban," because it was raised in 
 Thebais, and entirely composed of Christians, who all embraced 
 death rather than idolatry, in the year 303, under the Emperor 
 Diocletian. The massacre took place in Switzerland, between 
 Agauneun and Octodurus, the modem St. Maurice and Martigny. 
 In 1572 this order was united to that of St. Lazarus by the Duke 
 Emmanuel Philibert. The latter was a religious and military 
 order established by the Crusaders at Jerusalem in 1119, and con- 
 firmed by the Pope in 1255. The amalgamation of these two 
 orders formed that of Saints Maurice and Lazarus, which has 
 ever since been in the gift of the royal house of Savoy. When 
 the author here speaks of the leader of the Theban legion as not 
 having in his young days fallen so low as to be compared to 
 omnibus conductors, he alludes to the way in which this decora- 
 tion has of late been lavished both at home and abroad. 
 
 VOL. I. P 
 
210 MY KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 his own conscience, he felt there was an incompa- 
 tibility between him and them. 
 
 The simple fact is, that at times too much honesty- 
 is mconvenient. Courts have the same effect on the 
 mind and character that marshes have on the body; 
 there is bad air in both. I do not announce this as 
 a new discovery ; the iniquities of courts have passed 
 into a proverb. The novelty would be to find out a 
 remedy; but as this depends entirely on princes, 
 who are the first to suffer fi-om the noxious atmo- 
 sphere in which they five, we are shut up in a vicious 
 circle. And yet what has always been the primary 
 cause of the downfall of thrones ? Not a rebel- 
 lious mob, but the court itself. It would therefore 
 be for the interest of princes, as well as of their sub- 
 jects, that the atmosphere should be purified; and 
 I could suggest a mode, but refrain from doing so. 
 Do not believe, however, that this reserve conceals 
 any republican leanings. It would indeed be a bad 
 exchange ! We should have the kings, the chamber- 
 lains, les marquis de la ripubliqice! Thank you. 
 
 My father — who, like all high-minded men, 
 never thrust himself forwai'd — whilst so many others 
 were pushing their way to the front rank, was always 
 left behind; and this will ever be the fate of men of , , , 
 his stamp. 
 
 My regiment was to be quartered at Yeneria, 
 
FAEEWEEL TO DON ANDREIS. 211 
 
 an ancient royal castle three miles from Turin, 
 whieli, after being partly desti'oyed during the wars 
 of Catinat, was granted by the king to the army to 
 be used as cavalry barracks. I was one of the first 
 oflBcers equipped and provided with everything ; and 
 the day for our departure from Turin was fixed. 
 
 This was the last, the definitive separation from 
 home as well as from every educational bondage. 
 At fifteen and a half it came rather early, especially 
 with a character like mine ! I likewise took a final 
 leave of Don Andreis. To end his history, relieved 
 from the cares of my education, and thinking per- 
 haps that his pupU had not turned out the pious 
 young gentleman he had meant to form, he became 
 a Capuchin. He died, poor fellow, in the year '30 
 or '31, if I am not mistaken, still praying fervently 
 for my conversion. In my turn I heartily pray God 
 to give peace to that worthy soul, who was in truth 
 ever animated by an earnest desire of doing good. 
 
 On five or six occasions in my life I have felt 
 a joy, a satisfaction, so complete, so overwhelming, 
 that no words can be found sufficient to express it, 
 just as at those times my heart seemed too small 
 to contain its overflowing measure. 
 
 One of these few instances, which I shall care- 
 fully note down as we proceed, was that on which 
 I arrived at our barracks rejoicing in my bran- 
 
212 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 new uniform, the famous helmet on my head, and 
 mounted on a prancing charger, to the full as frisky 
 as his master, but who being also good-tempered 
 and free from vice, was under perfect control. In 
 those days, what with youth, gymnastics, fencing, 
 swimming, and riding, &c., I was extremely active, 
 and on horseback a perfect dare-devil. 
 
 Being, as I stated before, one of the first officers 
 thoroughly equipped, I was very warmly received by 
 my superiors and Comrades. The trumpets sounded, 
 and I rode out of Porta Palazzo to my new destiny 
 as happy as a Pope, — possibly even happier. 
 
 Ours was a curious way of forming a regiment. 
 The superiors, men of another period, had forgotten 
 everything. We youngsters had everything yet to 
 learn. Don Andreis had never given me any lessons 
 in drill ; and our subordinates, the non-commissioned 
 officers and privates, who had almost all been trained 
 in the first school in the world and were thorough 
 soldiers, laughed in their moustaches while we were 
 present, and openly behind our backs. 
 
 I shall never forget the first time I found myself 
 with the regiment in battle array, and the impres- 
 sion made upon me when I beheld those martial, 
 bronzed, and bearded countenances, made stiU more 
 severe by the shadows cast from the visors of their 
 helmets ; men proof against everything, inured to 
 
TETBEANS AND YOUNGSTEES. 213 
 
 the snows of Moscow and to the scorching sun of 
 Andalusia, and who had survived so many dangers 
 to become the subordinates of beardless youths like 
 me. I felt so small, so humble, such an utter zero, 
 and, what is worse, so open to ridicule. This last 
 idea stung me to the quick. The thought occurred 
 to me — Why is all this, but because I am a noble 
 by the grace of God ? At every glance from those 
 stern faces I seemed to feel the sensation of a cufF, 
 such as is given to an importunate child to get rid 
 of it. And what still more enraged me was to see 
 that, while I was so deeply galled at these humili- 
 ating thoughts that they absolutely embittered my 
 life, my superiors, who ought to have been ashamed 
 to show themselves, looked as proud as if each one 
 of them had severally been the conqueror of Napo- 
 leon. Among the captains and subalterns there were, 
 however, several who had served in the French regi- 
 ments. For instance, our adjutant. Marquis Doria 
 Cavaglia, had been in the Cuirassiers. He arrived 
 straight from Moscow, had swum the Beresina in- 
 stead of crossing by a bridge, and would have faced 
 anything. The Chevalier GazeUi, now a general, 
 the Chevalier d'Albrione, one Lombardi, a Chevalier 
 Lovera, and some others, were just fresh from that 
 great epoch. Of course they talked of nothing else, 
 and I Kstened open-mouthed, drinking in every word 
 
214 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 and filling my imagination with those terrible scenes 
 of sacrifice and bloodshed, eager to hear of daring 
 feats, anecdotes, names, mixed up with wonderful 
 stories of orgies, rows, military bravadoes, tavern 
 and barrack-songs, and I know not what besides; 
 from aU of which I formed an idea of a world 
 so different, so much greater, more dazzling, and 
 worthier of men and soldiers than ours. My sense 
 of humiliation increased every day, especially when 
 I measui'ed myself, many of my brother officers, and 
 more particularly those who commanded us. Having 
 my head ftill of the reviews, the grand parades, and 
 the splendid manoeuvres of Napoleon, it was very 
 irritating to see our major on Sundays, when the 
 regiment was paraded to go to church, get into 
 almost inexti'icable confusion whilst attempting to 
 break into column and march off the ground. "J're- 
 mier rang ne houge! En avant! Ouvrez vos rangs!" 
 was an order I once heard him give with my own 
 ears. The colonel too, who, having a bad memory, 
 was wont to write down the movements and com- 
 mands for a field-day on a bit of paper, and which, 
 forgetting all about it, he would leave on his desk, — ■" 
 used to search his pockets for it and turn anxiously 
 to those who surrounded him, crying in piteous tones, 
 "Gentlemen, the paper, — who has got the paper?" 
 But I and the greater number of my comrades 
 
FIEST-EATE TACTICS ! 215 
 
 would, on no account submit to the disgrace of not 
 knowing our drill. We worked hard under the ad- 
 jutant, who was our instructor, and a month had 
 not elapsed before we already knew more than the 
 colonel, the major, and some of the captains ; and 
 in a very short time I was judged fit not only to 
 lead but to instruct the third squadron, to which I 
 belonged, in both the foot and mounted drill. The 
 driU and the words of command were the same as 
 those of the French army. But our, shallow -brained 
 courtiers of course had not come back from the island 
 of Sardinia to submit to the caprices of the usurper. 
 They wished to do something greater and better, and. 
 devised a new driU with Italian words of command ; 
 and, so far as it went, this was aU very well ; but 
 their other innovations and inventions were really 
 worth seeing. I wiU give a single example. 
 
 The position of the first rank in the charge was 
 the same as that still in use, which every one knows ; 
 but what is not so generally known is the command 
 prescribed to us when charging a square. We were 
 to, make sure of victory as follows (I quote textu- 
 •ally) : " Every horseman falling upon the infantry 
 shall make a cut with his sabre /j'om below upivards, 
 in order to try and break tlie bayonet off the musket 
 of the enemy" ! 
 
 Nothing makes one hate people more than their 
 
216 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 eompelliiig us to cut a ridiculous figure. Thanks to 
 this accumulation of acts of injustice and bhmders ; 
 thanks to the vexations of every kind to which we 
 were subjected, — the results either of an exagge- 
 rated monarchical principle or of bigotry, — the en- 
 thusiasm of the day upon which I had seen the 
 entrance of the king on Piazza CasteUo was very 
 considerably diminished, and my sympathy for the 
 system had completely disappeared. • Nor was this 
 all. The final result was, that I conceived a hatred 
 so intense for the nobility, wliich occupied the highest 
 ofiices in the kingdom, that I defy the whole middle 
 class of Turin in the old days put together to have 
 felt half as much. And not only did I hate the 
 aristocracy, but I was in despair at being a noble 
 myself. I blushed for it, and concealed the fact 
 whenever I could. One day at Fossano I passed 
 myself off as the son of Signor Aragno (Mr. Spider, 
 the family agent at our neighbouring castle of Lag- 
 nasco, and I was in raptures. 
 
 Here I must make a declaration. God in his 
 goodness planted in my heart a love of justice ajid 
 a hatred of injustice and deceit. He bestowed on 
 me a love of justice, just as He gave me a sanguine 
 temperament, fair hair (quondam), and light eyes. 
 This is no merit of mine, and I could not be other- 
 wise, even if I desired it. Tlierefore I say frankly 
 
DESPAIR AT BEING A NOBLE. 217 
 
 that I always hate injustice, no matter who is to 
 profit or be injured by it. I hate it if it profits 
 my enemies ; I hate it if it profits my friends ; I 
 hate it if it profits me ; I should hate it even if it 
 were profitable to the persons most dear to me in 
 the world, or if it forwarded the fulfilment of my 
 most ardent yearning to see Italy really reconsti- 
 tuted. 
 
 Having said this, the reader may understand 
 my deep despair a,t being a noble. Knowing that . 
 ■ no human power could alter the fact, and that hence 
 my misfortune was irreparable, I envied those who 
 had escaped this disaster, and considered their hap- 
 piness as immense. It may be supposed I am joking 
 or exaggerating ; but I could pledge my word of 
 honour that I am not adding one syllable, and that 
 I do not exaggerate in the least. 
 
 At that time I believed the nobility was justly 
 detested for an insolence, of which it alone was cap- 
 able. I then thought that its detractors would not 
 on any account have condescended to be knighted 
 or created counts. Blockhead that I was! Had I 
 known then, as I have discovered since, that demo- 
 cracy is an egg which when hatched produces the 
 chicken called an aristocrat, I should not have waxed 
 so hot about the matter. 
 
 These extreme views of mine sprang from a good 
 
218 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 sentiment — an aversion to injustice and undeserved 
 privileges ; only my •want of experience made me 
 believe that the vice of arrogance was peculiar to 
 the aristocracy. Life has since taught me that it 
 is inherent in mankind; and that man, when he 
 has a weapon in his hand, and nobody to oppose 
 or keep him in check, uses it to oppress his equals 
 and make them his inferiors. It results from this 
 that in a well-regulated community nobody should be 
 , irresponsible, neither individuals nor classes ; hence 
 no privileges, and perfect equality before the law. 
 
 But the king, you wiU suggest, is and ought to 
 be irresponsible. True. But it would be more cor- 
 rect to say that his person is inviolable. Suppose 
 a conflict between the Crown and the other two 
 powers ; in the end, if the latter did not yield, in 
 which very likely they would be right, what is the 
 sovereign to do ? Certainly he can send a battalion 
 to shut up the Parliament-house and put the keys 
 in his pocket. But what then? Is not this re- 
 sponsibility ? 
 
 If my contempt for the government of that 
 period and my abhorrence of aristocracy were the 
 offspring of a good sentiment, they nevertheless pro- 
 duced a bad result. Owing to the spirit of contra- 
 diction, and the tendency to extremes, which is a 
 defect of youth, I gradually mixed myself up with 
 
FAST LIFE. 219 
 
 the worst company, and became intimate with an 
 utterly depraved set. It was not enough that a 
 man should not be a noble, I required him to be 
 a rowdy. 
 
 I have already said that this is a period of my 
 life I would, if possible, obliterate, and for which 
 I have cause to blush. And to think that in after- 
 years, and every day more and more, I have felt 
 an invincible repugnance to all that is ugly or foul, 
 either physically or morally ! Nowadays I am often 
 even compelled to accuse myself of intolerance ; for, 
 after aU, men are not angels ; we aU need forgive- 
 ness, and I more than others. But in those days — 
 I cannot explain how it was — I lived with the scum 
 of society, and was as happy as a fish in the water. 
 
 This may teach mothers and fathers not to de- 
 spair of sons who may chance to follow in my track ; 
 and it may prove to those who have fallen so low, 
 that bad habits can be got rid of; it only requires 
 will. 
 
 I did not, however, fail in my military duties ; 
 on the contrary, I attended very zealously to them, 
 so that I was never punished for negligence. But 
 I was often put under arrest for tapages nocturnes, 
 escapades, freaks, quarrels, and wild conduct of 
 every sort. 
 
 On one occasion I had a dispute with a brother 
 
220 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 officer, and we went out to fight a duel. But I was 
 not yet sixteen, lie very little older; and as soon 
 as we crossed swords, our seconds, both veterans, 
 interposed. Perhaps they only wanted to see how 
 the young recruits would behave. I, who am not 
 often irritable, and then especially scarcely ever lost 
 my temper, flew into a passion, and as soon as we 
 reached the barracks and each went his own way, 
 ran after my adversary, and said to him : " Let us 
 go out alone, that nobody may disturb us." 
 
 Fortunately, General Count Richelmi came that 
 day to ijispect the regiment at the hour fixed for our 
 second meeting. Being at liberty, I went to the 
 place of meeting, and waited long, but no one ap- 
 peared. My adversary was engaged on duty, and 
 having immediately after been put under arrest, 
 was prevented from coming. I say again fortunately ; 
 because two angry children, each of whom wanted 
 to act the man, might have got into serious mischief. 
 
 Seeing I remained master of the field, I went 
 back to the barracks at sunset. The adjutant told 
 me / Imd behaved well, but that I was for the present 
 under arrest; a premise, as every one may see, fol- 
 lowed by its logical consequence. 
 
 My father learnt what had happened, and I was 
 informed that he would pay me a visit. Here was 
 a dilemma ! I did not suppose my father had been 
 
SECOND EXCOMMUNICATION. 221 
 
 apprised of the affair, and thought to myself, If he 
 comes here and finds me under arrest, he will ask 
 why ? And what answer can I give ? I must pre- 
 tend to he ill. 
 
 No sooner did I see a carriage stop at my door, 
 and make sure it was he, than I jumped into bed 
 without even taking off my clothes. 
 
 He came into the room, but there was no severity 
 in his look. He approached my bed ; I said that 
 something or other ailed me : he made no answer, 
 but after a little while went away with my sister-in- 
 law, who had accompanied him, and who laughed 
 at my sudden indisposition. 
 
 If this visit made me feel very uneasy, it was 
 only because it was obvious that my father, with his 
 rehgious opinions, though a thoroughly good soldier, 
 as everyone knows, and one who in his youth had 
 been involved in similar scrapes, could not hesitate 
 about a matter which the Church has expressly de- 
 cided under penalty of excommunication. Not yet 
 sixteen, and already twice excommunicated ! Well, 
 he must have thought it a fine beginning ! 
 
 A few days after, I received a letter from him, 
 in which he analysed the question of duels with the 
 warmth of heart and clearness of reasoning which 
 were peculiar to him, and pointed out the principal 
 reasons against them. This letter recapitulated, as 
 
I 
 
 222 MY KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 it were, all he had previously said to us on this sub- 
 ject whenever an opportunity arose, so anxious was 
 he to convince us of its importance. 
 
 Unfortunately, this custom, which originated, not 
 among the Greco-Latin, but among the Northern 
 races, has its roots in the instinct which the human 
 heart has most difficulty in expelling — ^vanity. In 
 how many things the world would be better if vanity 
 could be changed into honest pride ! The latter 
 suffices to itself; vanity requires applause. 
 
 The remedy, therefore, must be sought in pubHc 
 opinion. Take away applause, and duels will disap- 
 pear. In England, where public opinion has declared 
 itself against them, duels have become obsolete. 
 
 Without entering into the question of its moral 
 or rational value, which would take me too fai', there 
 is, at all events, one good piece of advice to be given 
 to young men : Let them always consider a duel 
 as a very serious thing. They may kill, or maim 
 a man for life, and by so doing strike many other 
 persons to the heart. A day may come in which 
 such a recollection will be as heavy as a millstone. 
 I am speaking of a serious duel ; one fought for 
 social reasons is simply ridiculous. Therefore in 
 both respects it is a bad business, and to be avoided 
 as much as possible. 
 
CHAPTEK XII. 
 
 Derangement of health— Return of Napoleon from Elba— Coun- 
 sels of Bidone — Reflections on the charms of a currycomb — 
 By Bidone's advice I quit the active service, and enter the 
 provincial militia — Defeat and expulsion of masks from the 
 Carignano Theatre — My triumphal entry into Turin — I go to 
 MUan, and there sell my ancestors — ^A warning to young men 
 against running into debt — The choice of Hercules— Bidone's 
 maxims — his quotations — Glory and popularity are more 
 highly paid than they deserve— At seventeen I was pining for 
 glory — " Learn art, say I ; then lay it by" — Complete conver- 
 sion — Gossip of my companions on the subject — I am declared 
 a downright lunatic. 
 
 The formation of a cavalry regiment is a very la- 
 borious undertaking. I worked hard at it in my 
 small sphere, and moreover underwent all the wear 
 and tear of a wUd scape-grace Kfe. After a day's 
 drill I often sprang on horseback at sunset and 
 hurried off by cross roads to Turin, where I spent 
 the whole night in revelry of every kind, contriving, 
 however, to be back again at Yeneria by half-past 
 three in the morning for the rSveille. A few months 
 of such a Hfe, as may easily be conceived, so much 
 affected my health as to oblige me to pay it serious 
 attention. 
 
 I also began to feel the emptiness of garrison life 
 
224 Mr KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 in time of peace ; and of war there seemed to be then 
 no probability whatever. We had seen the landing 
 of Napoleon, the general sauve qui peut of the diploma- 
 tists from the Congress of Vienna, and the renewed 
 dread of the false warrior make many of the restored 
 princes shake with fear. Not all, however ; for Victor 
 Emanuel, old and infirm as he was, showed on that 
 occasion from what house he sprang, and lost no time 
 in putting oiu- little army in motion, ready to mount 
 horse himself at the first signal. The delight we all, 
 and I in particular, felt on learning the warlike news 
 may be imagined. Young, active, and accustomed 
 to hard work, what could I wish for better ? Cesare 
 Balbo, though an austere man, used to say : " There 
 are two pleasures in the world, — niaking war and 
 making love." It should, however, be added,, both 
 are the business of youth. 
 
 But as the world is always cross-grained, I was 
 then, while a young man, obliged to stay at home ; 
 and afterwards, when years began to press upon me, 
 I had to endure all the hardships of war. 
 
 After the crash of Waterloo, and the final impri- 
 sonment of the great world-disturber at St. Helena, 
 it did not require much penetration to divine that 
 for a long time the trade of arms, especially in the 
 non-scientific corps, would be as exciting and plea- 
 sant as a nunnery. 
 
A VILE TRADE ! 225 
 
 My friend Bidone, whom I went to see every now 
 and then, always let some ironical words escape him, 
 some jest on the destiny to which I was called by 
 my epaulette d'offider tout juste, as he used to say. 
 "A pretty career, in which two arms take precedence 
 of one head !" And, to be quite sincere, during the 
 weary time in which my duty compelled me to pay 
 profound attention to the grooming of the horses, 
 and to see that the currycomb, the brush, and the 
 wisps of straw were used in accordance with good 
 principles ; when for hour after hour I had to keep 
 an eye on the soldiers to prevent them from using 
 the currycomb on the manes, and to make sure that 
 they sponged the eyes and nostrils of their four- 
 legged companions properly; when I had to assist 
 at the refections of these interesting animals, that 
 the corn might be applied exactly in the manner 
 specified by the war-office ; when, I say, my mind 
 was concentrated on these highly intellectual occu- 
 pations, it occasionally struck me that I might have 
 to go on thus for the trifling period of thirty years ! 
 This idea was at first as transient as a flash of light- 
 ning, but it gradually gained strength, and finally 
 haunted me with daily increasing pertinacity. 
 
 But when to all this was added the ill health 
 to which I have alluded ; when I had attacks of 
 fever every night, and coughed so that my wind- 
 
 VOL. I. Q 
 
226 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 pipe seemed like to burst, without being induced to 
 refrain from any of my usual mad escapades and 
 excesses, my parents saw that this must not continue, 
 and determined to stop it. 
 
 They obtained a sick-leave for me, and, whether 
 I would or not, I was put under medical care at 
 home. 
 
 Li the mean time my friend Bidone was always 
 harping on the same string ; and when I recollected 
 that cursed currycombing, I began to think he was 
 right. But I would not and could not come to a 
 decision. At last, as I had always persevered in my 
 artistic tastes, and even while with my regiment oc- 
 casionally tried to sketch from natm'e, I announced 
 my wish to leave the Royal Piedmont, and enter 
 the provincial mihtia.* In this service there were 
 only four months of active duty, followed by eight 
 
 * In the old Piedmontese military system the provincial mi- 
 litia was a sort of reserve, on the Landwehr principle, destined 
 to be called out in time of war, and which was exercised for a 
 certain period every year. It was by no means a bad institution ; 
 for when, in 1848, Charles Albert rushed to the rescue of Lom- 
 bardy, very few days sufficed to raise the little Piedmontese army, 
 notwithstanding fifty years of peace, to an efficient number, able 
 to contend with the big battalions of Austria in a campaign far 
 from inglorious for the old weather-beaten white cross of Savoy ; 
 and it is a curious fact, that among the many projects recently 
 submitted to Napoleon III. for the reorganisation of the French 
 army, this old-fashioned Piedmontese system was warmly recom- 
 mended by an eminent general. 
 
MILITARY INSOLENCE. 227 
 
 of liberty, wMch left ample time for any studious 
 occupation. 
 
 My father, seeing my state of health, and not 
 wishing to oppose any appearance on my part of a 
 desire to tm'n over a new leaf and work, assented to 
 this and took the necessary steps. I was transferred 
 to the provincial militia, and joined the battalions 
 attached to the brigade of foot-guards. The company 
 I belonged to was commanded by Captain Santarosa, 
 the same who was destined to acquire so much cele- 
 brity in the movements of 1821. 
 
 But the serpent changes its skin and not its spots. 
 I became a scamp on foot, instead of being a scamp 
 on horseback. I was to be found, more frequently 
 than ever, in the worst society, both mihtary and 
 civH. It must be confessed that at that time the 
 oiBcers who had been in the French army, accustomed 
 as they were to success, always behaved as if they 
 were actually in a conquered country. 
 
 The arrival of a regiment was a real calamity 
 everywhere ; the cafes and inns frequented by us 
 officers were soon deserted by all other customers ; 
 the noise, the rows, the insolence with which we 
 treated the unfortunate pdhins, made us odious and 
 unwelcome ; the officers of the actual army appear 
 like nuns if contrasted with what we then were. Only 
 imagine that one night there was a masked ball at 
 
228 MY KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 the Carlgnano Theatre, at wHcli very few people 
 were present. The officers took it into their heads to 
 turn out those few, extinguish the hghts and close 
 the theatre ! — a programme that was carried out to 
 a tittle. I leave the muse to record the jostHng, the 
 hard blows, the scuffle, the swearing, and the uproar, 
 produced by this beautiful scheme, which I must say 
 seemed even to me rather too much, and our supe- 
 rior officers, being stiH mere strongly of that opinion, 
 rebuked us next day on parade as we deserved, and 
 indeed they ought to have gone farther, and infficted 
 condign punishment upon us. 
 
 Another time the public of Turin was gratified 
 by a spectacle in which I was the sole actor and in- 
 ventor. The society in which I delighted, composed 
 of individuals of both sexes, has been christened 
 demi-monde by modern ingenuity; but we, being 
 more primitive, used to call it by another name. 
 All its members were very fond of going into the 
 country to have joUy dinners at some suburban inn, 
 as a pedant would say. I was the possessor of two 
 horses and a small carriage. One Sunday, when all 
 Turin was out for its afternoon walk, the said carri- 
 age suddenly making its appearance, dashed through 
 the crowd at full speed ; in it were two damsels re- 
 nowned for their conciliatory dispositions, driven by 
 the Chevalier Massimo d'Azeglio h la Daumont ! 
 
HARD UP. 229 
 
 This expedition made a sensation in the town as 
 well as among my relations, and my reputation as an 
 irreclaimable scamp rose even higher than before. 
 And this was exactly my aim. I wanted to be con- 
 spicuous. 
 
 My confession is now far advanced, and will soon 
 be over. Yet I must not omit a last episode, which 
 also had a great success at the time. I say, like 
 Brantome, " Encore celle-ci et puis plus /" 
 
 I had arranged to go to Milan with some other 
 young rascals ; but those were days of pecunia rara, 
 and the capital we were able to scrape together was 
 pitiably small. What was to be done? We scru- 
 tinised our respective possessions, but in vain; no 
 resource made its appearance; in our cant phrase, 
 "not a fly was to be detected in the air." Still, to 
 Milan we must and would go. 
 
 One day, being alone in my room, lost in pro- 
 found reflections on the great problem, my eyes fell , 
 upon two old portraits in oil, which hung on the 
 opposite wall. 
 
 Luckily for me, a Count of Lagnasco had hit 
 upon the excellent idea (as in the seventeenth cen- 
 tury was the custom of noblemen who found no em- 
 ployment at home) of going to seek his fortune in 
 Germany. He had taken service imder King Au- 
 gustus III., and commanded his guard in Poland. 
 
230 MY KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 A lady of the name of Wallenstein, descended from 
 the same house as the famous Duke of Friedland, 
 found him to her taste, married him, and, what was 
 stUl more important to me, they both had had their 
 portraits painted by Eigault, an artist of some cele- 
 brity with an agreeable style. 
 
 Their two figures (the count with a cuirass and 
 a huge powdered Louis XIV. wig, and the countess 
 with her hair a la Sioigni and the low dress of the 
 period), surrounded by handsome gilt old-fashioned 
 frames, adorned, as I said, the waU opposite me 
 during my aforesaid meditation; and, as I also 
 stated, on glancing at the handsome features of my 
 beloved ancestor, he seemed to look at me with pity- 
 ing eyes, almost as if, non ignarus mali, he invited 
 me to throw myself into his arms at such a critical 
 juncture. 
 
 I did not wait for a second hint, but pounced 
 ' upon the idea, and responded to the kind invitation 
 as follows. 
 
 Two days after, at dawn, trotted along the Milan 
 road a horse (no longer two), harnessed to a two- 
 wheeled carriage, intended, therefore, to hold only 
 two. In it, however, were five persons, namely, I 
 and two friends, and then the Count of Lagnasco on 
 tlie right, and the Countess of Lagnasco Wallenstein 
 on the left, like two large screens, which prevented 
 
SALE OF MY ANCESTORS. 231 
 
 US, it is true, from enjoying the beauty of the land- 
 scape on either side, though they permitted us a full 
 view of the straight road before us leading to the 
 sighed-for Milan. 
 
 I remember we were packed rather close. Now, 
 why did that happy couple travel with us? They 
 were, I blush to relate, destined to be sold to a dealer^ 
 in old pictures, and thus defray a part of the ex- 
 penses of the trip. As the Georgians and the Cir- 
 cassians sell their young sons and daughters alive, 
 can it be so heinous a crime to seU a brace of painted 
 old ancestors ? 
 
 I shall not attempt to relate all the follies we 
 committed at Milan, where, among other pleasant 
 incidents, its future governor was arrested for want 
 of a passport. I will merely add that the abduction 
 of my ancestors was considered so original by every- 
 one, that my escapade was forgiven, and my ex- 
 cursion to Milan was spoken of in the family ever 
 after as " the journey with the ancestors." 
 
 They were eventually brought home several years 
 after ; so that the service they rendered me on that 
 occasion only cost them a sojourn of a dozen years 
 at Milan.* 
 
 My wild life, so morally and physically fatal to 
 
 * The two innocent abettors of this youthful freak are now 
 in London among the valuable collection of Marquis d'Aaeglio. 
 
232 MT EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 a young man, caused the deepest anxiety to my 
 father, and still more to my mother ; and even now, 
 as I write these lines, my heart aches to think of all 
 the grief I cost her in those days. "Would to Grod 
 they had been the only ones ! 
 
 Li fact, I was on the road to ruin; for I have 
 not told all, nor even the worst part of my adven- 
 tures. I declare this because, after so many pro- 
 testations of sincerity, if I am not at liberty to say 
 everything, I must not leave the impression that I 
 have done so when it is not true. 
 
 My mother, poor woman, often went alone and 
 muffled in her veil to the house of my friend Bidone, 
 to pour out her distress about me, seek advice and 
 comfort, or sometimes to repay him any small sum 
 he had lent me in some hour of need. 
 
 But as to debts, I must do myself the justice to 
 say that I always detested them. I may have sold 
 ancestors, but never ran into debt. 
 
 For a young man such repugnance is a most . 
 precious boon, and I had received it from nature 
 without any merit of my own. Knowing how to 
 live upon what one has, be it little or much, is the 
 first earnest of an honest and quiet life. When, on 
 the contrary, one begins to live on borrowed money, 
 farewell to peace, and but too often farewell to hon- 
 OMT. Let young men think of this ; and every gen- 
 
MONITORIBUS ASPER. 233 
 
 tleman should bear in mind that if Don Juan came 
 back to this world, he could no longer slam his door 
 with a jest in Mr. Dimanohe's face. No one now 
 laughs at the creditor, but at the ruined debtor. 
 
 The worthy Bidone endeavoured to reassure my 
 mother. He spoke well of me, and inspired her with 
 some hope ; so that she used to leave his house a 
 little consoled. He, besides, actually laid siege to 
 me ; not trying to take me by storm with sermons 
 and reproaches, but, as he possessed great skiU and 
 knowledge of the world, he contrived to invest me 
 on aU sides, and in the most effectual way, without 
 causing any irritation. 
 
 I partly evaded him — monitoribus asper — and 
 partly, whether I would or no, succumbed to the 
 power of that clear and calm intellect, that sterling 
 straightforwardness which shone in his eyes, and 
 ma'de it impossible to doubt the sincerity of his 
 opinions and of his endeavours. 
 
 The ancient myth of the choice of Hercules is 
 the poetical expression of a fact which every man 
 must have more or less experienced for himself, 
 and it was reproduced in me with full intensity. 
 Sometimes, ' influenced by my wild companions, I 
 absconded ; and poor Bidone waited long for me 
 in vain ; then, drawn on by a fascination which I 
 was unable to resist, I again, almost against my 
 
234 MY KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 will, laiocked at the door of my friend. I en- 
 tered his neat Httle lodgings, equally simple and 
 severe, in which everything was as orderly and 
 exact as a page of mathematics. I never saw a 
 house which was so exact an image of him who 
 inhabited it. He always received me with placid 
 benevolence, and never made a scene ; for he was 
 one who knew the surest ways of becoming master 
 of a human will. 
 
 This oscillation between the attractions of two 
 opposite poles lasted for some time. I now re- 
 member with real and heartfelt gratitude how ear- 
 nestly that excellent friend endeavoured to make 
 something good of me. Himself naturally fond 
 of study, and ftilly occupied by the duties of his 
 professorship, he nevertheless found time to watch 
 for opportunities of meeting me, and enticing me 
 to take long walks with him, that he might be 
 able to talk to me at length, and insinuate good 
 and sound ideas into my head in a hundred dif- 
 ferent ways. A volume would be insufficient to 
 enumerate them all ; they may be summed up, 
 however, in these simple ideas : man possesses a 
 value in proportion to his honesty and instruction, 
 and to his utility to himself and to others ; he 
 should therefore aim at everything conducive to 
 this end, and avoid whatever leads him the oppo- 
 
IMPOETANCE OF HEALTH. 235 
 
 site way ; it is the duty of every man to regulate 
 his life so as to be able to preserve the full power 
 of his intellectual faculties and good instincts ; con- 
 sequently, among material blessings, the greatest 
 is health, without which it is impossible to be a 
 great man, and therefore it can never be paid for 
 too dearly, and it is to be obtained by temperance 
 in everything, &o. 
 
 In order to support these truths by tangible 
 examples, he pointed out to me the miserable 
 wrecks of a disorderly life — old men with blear 
 lifeless eyes and emaciated bodies, who spend their 
 last days in cafes, age not having taught them 
 either to seem or to be respectable, and who 
 die, useless, abandoned and despised by everyone. 
 " Look !" he used to say to me, " what you will 
 become fifty years hence by following your present 
 course ofUfe. Behold yourself!" At other times 
 he took as his example some entirely opposite type — 
 some man, either old or young, who, starting from 
 a humble beginning, by firmness and constancy, 
 had succeeded in doing useful and praiseworthy 
 deeds. He did not always censure me ; nay, often 
 he would say, for my encouragement, " Providence 
 has given you a powerful intellect ; so cheer up ! 
 and try to do something with it." 
 
 I cannot remember these times and the fi'iend- 
 
236 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 ship of Bidone without recalling to my mind the 
 
 affectionate verses in which Dante describes his 
 
 meeting with Brunetto Latini — Knes which express 
 
 so well what I feel : 
 
 " Se fosse pieno tutto '1 mio dimando, 
 
 Eisposi io lui, voi non sareste ancora 
 De r umana natura posto in bando : 
 
 Chfe in la mente m' fe fltta e or m' accora, 
 La eara e buona immagine paterna 
 Di voi quando nel mondo ad ora ad ora 
 
 M' insegnavate come 1' uom s' eterna ; 
 
 E quanto io 1' abbia in grado, mentre io vivo, 
 Convien che nella mia lingua si scerna." 
 
 " Were all my wish f ulfiU'd, I straight replied, 
 Thou from the confines of man's nature yet 
 Hadst not been driven forth ; for in my mind 
 Is iix'd, and now strikes full upon my heart. 
 The dear, benign, paternal image, such 
 As thine was, when so lately thou didst teach me 
 The way for man to win eternity. 
 And how I prized the lesson, it behoves. 
 That, long as life endures, my tongue should speak," 
 
 Would that my tongue could speak a tribute worthy 
 of him ! But Brunetto Latini, so inferior, had Dante, 
 whilst Bidone, so superior, has only me. Just see 
 upon what celebrity and oblivion depend ! and ought 
 one to toil so much for glory, and believe so blindly 
 in the infallibility of fame ? 
 
 These ideas have now been paramount in my 
 mind for a long time ; and however much I may 
 enjoy (I do not deny it) being praised when the 
 
APPROVAL OF CONSCIENCE. 237 
 
 occasion arises, I am also perfectly happy if no 
 on6 thinks about me. I have learnt in life, that 
 however many testimonies of approval a man may 
 earn, one only is sornid, true, and worth seek- 
 ing; for that which makes everything pleasant and 
 smooths our pillow is the approval of the judge 
 we aU carry in our hearts, when it says. You have 
 done your duty ! It has happened to me to be 
 praised and lauded to the skies by the outer world, 
 while this internal judge was saying. You do not 
 deserve it. And then I have felt embittered, and 
 on going to bed found that, in spite of all the 
 applause and bravos, I had laid my head on 
 thorns. 
 
 But at seventeen, having as yet no experience^ 
 of any kind, my pulse beat faster at the idea of 
 applause, glory, and fame. Bidone, who perceived 
 this, stimulated my self-love, saying, that, if I chose, 
 I might do great things. This roused me, and 
 my mouth watered at the hope of being perhaps 
 — who knows? — even mentioned in the newspa- 
 pers. How delightful such a prospect would seem 
 now! I began to turn over in my mind aU the 
 ways, methods, and means by which it could be 
 arrived at. I began to consider my wishes, in- 
 clinations, and tendencies, seeking to penetrate the 
 probabilities of the future. Having resolved, fin- 
 
238 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 ally, upon action, I had next to determine what I 
 should do. 
 
 It was no use. to think of exact sciences; poor 
 Bidone, who, with all his endeavours to teach me 
 mathematics, had never succeeded in making me 
 master of the first four rules of arithmetic, was well 
 aware of that. All other branches of knowledge, 
 however, were open to me ; and when I asked 
 him, " What must I do?" he answex'ed, with a 
 smile, " Do !" 
 
 " Impara V arte, e mettila da parte" — Learn art, 
 say I, then lay it by — was a proverb that seemed 
 invented by him ; it was also one of his maxims, 
 that every man ought to be able to earn his daily 
 bread without depending on his fortune, salary, &c. ; 
 not that he, however, pushed the theory so far as 
 to require that every educated person should be a 
 carpenter — as Rousseau does in his Emile. 
 
 It was thus that I became more and more 
 strongly imbued with the idea of dedicating my- 
 self to art, for which I had already a great in- 
 clination. It is certainly not the surest means of 
 avoiding starvation — my dear brethren in the pro- 
 fession know that; yet a brush may be put to so 
 many uses, that, so long as one can keep clear of 
 the desert of Sahara, it would be very hard if, in a 
 Christian land, it were not the means of procuring 
 
A RESOLUTE CHANGE. 239 
 
 at least a daily loaf of bread. Up to this time, alas ! 
 I had not gone beyond good intentions ; and ex- 
 cept in the rare moments when Bidone succeeded in 
 surprising me and tearing me away from my vices, 
 just as Socrates did Alcibiades (excuse the audacity 
 of the comparison), my dissipated life continued and 
 flourished, as before, in the midst of the usual scum 
 by which cafes, bilKard-rooms, &c. are peopled. 
 
 But the blessed day of the great, stern, absolute, 
 and durable resolution dawned at last ! 
 
 Within twenty-four hours the change was com- 
 plete. The society I had frequented was given up ; 
 male and female companions, cafes, biUiard-rooms, 
 theatres, taverns, and all that is unmentionable, were 
 abandoned ; habits, hours, places of resort, waits, 
 &c. were all altered. The old man had vanished; 
 the new one appeared. I now rose before daybreak, 
 and without intermission I studied, read, and drew 
 tiU breakfast-time ; after breakfast I returned to 
 work, except an hour's walk, till dinner; and the 
 same in the evening. All this of my own head, 
 without guidance, but impetuously, and especially 
 without giving any warning to my former friends. 
 I disappeared, and there was an end of it. 
 
 For a day or two this passed unnoticed; then f 
 my companions began to murmiu'. Where is Mas- 
 simo ? Have you seen Massimo ? What Las be- 
 
240 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 come of Massimo ? Nobody knew anything. I thmk, 
 though I am not quite certain, that I had ordered, 
 the servants not to admit any visitors. This was, 
 perhaps, superfluous ; for few, if any, of my wild 
 companions would have dared to show themselves 
 in a house inhabited by my father ; and in this they 
 did thorough justice to him and to themselves. 
 
 Being without any guidance, and yet wishing 
 to paint landscapes in oil, I applied to one of our 
 painters, the Chevalier Bagetti, a man full of talent 
 and imagination, bold, and famihar with the world, 
 foreign countries, and society. Napoleon had taken 
 him with him in several of his campaigns, that he 
 might paint the fields of battle.* I applied to him, 
 as I said, to learn how to begin. He advised me 
 to copy two marine views which the Marquis Cam- 
 biano had in his gallery ; good pictures, I never 
 knew by whom, or have forgotten. I obtained leave 
 from the marquis, who kindly had the pictures 
 taken down to a lower room for me, and (wishing 
 first to copy them in chalk) I worked at them in 
 the evening. One of my old friends (it would be 
 more correct to say enemies) came to see me there. 
 He entered with a smile ; but I saw that he scanned 
 me fi-om head to foot, with a look in which confi- 
 
 * In the gallery of modem pictures belonging to the munici- 
 pality of Turin there are many of Bagetti's large water-colours. 
 
I AM VOTED MAD. 241 
 
 denee was not predominant ; just as if approaching 
 some dangerous animal. 
 
 " Why, nobody sees you now. May one ask, 
 What have we done ? What has happened ?" 
 
 " You have done nothing, and nothing has hap- 
 pened," said I, laughing also ; " only I have a whim 
 of learning to paint and to copy these two pictures." 
 
 This answer was as good as none ; and my friend 
 took it in that light. After a few more words he 
 went away ; and I have learned since that, having 
 gone back with his report to the society of scape- 
 graces, it was unanimously voted by them, after 
 having heard, weighed, and examined the whole 
 business, that I had gone mad. And when by any 
 chance someone inqmred after me, they invariably 
 answered : " He has lost his head:" 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 An act of pride — Training for sacrifice — My diligence — I fall ill 
 from over-exertion — I have an organic complaint — Mania for 
 going to Eome — Lassitude of my mother, and her patience 
 in Buffering^Abate Natali — My mode of life — My occupa- 
 tions — Poetical sins — ^neas an odious hero — Other precepts 
 of Bidone — Yestri the actor, and my vocation for the stage — 
 My rage for Alfieri — Alfieri has discovered Italy — What I 
 would now say to Alfieri — My mother a subtle literary critic. 
 
 I SAT it in all sincerity, though there are many 
 things I did in those days of which I am ashamed, 
 and which I should like to forget, I am rather proud 
 of this one. Come, dear reader, say truly, do not 
 you think that a young man who, after being a 
 downi'ight rake for some years, passes without tran- 
 sition to the Hfe, I may say, of a Capuchin novice, 
 must have a certain strength of will, and that the 
 case is not a very common one ? The fact is, after 
 being always tied to some apron-string or other, I 
 ■ lived four years and eight montlis in the most strict 
 and absolute abstinence from any connection of the 
 sort. The temptation sometimes was almost too 
 strong for me. But stop. I said no ; and if I am 
 a man, it must be no, and no it was. 
 
 Tliis was a first result of the education I had re- 
 
MOEAL GYMNASTICS. 243 
 
 ceived, and of the example set me by my father 
 and mother, and perhaps a proof of the advantage 
 of being born of such parents. The devoted and 
 thoughtful friendship of Bidone had also something 
 to do with it. The latter, moreover, taught me a 
 method of acquiring strength of will ; a method 
 which might be termed "moral gymnastics," being 
 not unlike the physical means which are employed 
 to give strength to the muscles and elasticity to the 
 nerves. He used to teU me : " Accustom yourself, 
 in the common acts of life, to make sacrifices which 
 no one is aware of. Train yourself in silence — so 
 that you may not be compensated by either praisei 
 or thanks — to give up things that please you, and 
 to submit to others that are distasteful ; beginning 
 with small things, and gradually attempting more 
 important and difScult acts of self-abnegation." I 
 entreat young men — I implore them in the name of 
 that which is most dear to them in the world, in 
 that of our poor country, of our decayed Latin race, 
 whose greatest, and I might almost say only, need 
 is to nerve itself to acquire character, steadiness, 
 moral strength (for with these qualities it would be- 
 come the first nation in the world) — I entreat them, 
 I say, to consider this precept of Bidone, convince 
 themselves of its importance, and practise it better 
 and more efiectually than I did. 
 
244 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 I do not mean to say that I utterly neglected it, 
 for in substance it was homogeneous to my nature — 
 a new application of an old theory I had often heard 
 inculcated by my father during my childhood; and, 
 thank God, I had good sense enough to appreciate 
 its immense value. 
 
 I therefore trained myself to small sacrifices ; for 
 instance, to give up a pleasure, to continue an oc- 
 cupation for half-an-hour after I had become weary, 
 to get up an hour sooner than usual, to defer drink- 
 ing or eating when I was hungry or thirsty, and 
 so forth ; and always without the knowledge of any- 
 one but myself. 
 
 Do not laugh, dear reader, at trifles which may 
 appear childish. Remember that, if I were not bent 
 on writing a good wholesome book — an eminently 
 practical book, which may be useful to young people 
 — I should not be taking so much trouble. Re- 
 member, too, that in every case analysis leads to 
 synthesis ; that to become a good fencer one must 
 pi'actise for hours and hours against a wall ; to be- 
 come a good dancer one must go through millions 
 of hattemens ; and that to create a character of iron 
 like that of my father, and such as I shoiJd wish 
 to see all Italians possessed of, it is necessary to 
 nerve oneself, and so acquire the habit of suffering 
 and making sacrifices in trifles, as to be able in 
 
ILL HEALTH. 245 
 
 time to do so in great things ; and then a man may 
 flatter himself that he has become akin to those who 
 are destined to found as well as to save and to re- 
 generate nations ; but not before. 
 
 I, however, wanted to effect the change at once, 
 and to begin by great sacrifices. I exchanged an 
 active and unshackled life in the open air for a 
 sedentary one at home, hardly ever leaving my 
 studio ; in a word, I gave up the life which, barring 
 excesses, fattens a fool, for that which makes men 
 eager in the pursuit of knowledge grow thin ; — add 
 to this that I slept among colours, oils, and varnishes 
 — odours which might have thrown a mule into fits ; 
 — and the end of it was that, after six months of 
 furiously hard work, I fell iU. Mine was not an 
 acute fever, nor did it confine me to my bed; but 
 my nerves were thoroughly unstrung ; my ruddy 
 complexion became white as wax ; besides which 
 I waS as thin as a lath. I had such an oppression 
 on the chest that I could hardly draw my breath; 
 and finally my heart beat almost incessantly with 
 such violence that, especially after meals, I felt as if 
 it would leap into my throat. Conceive what a state ! 
 Farewell to the studio, to painting, reading, and writ- 
 ing ; farewell to it all ! And I was condemned in- 
 stead to lie still all day, whilst the desire of working 
 hard preyed on me more than ever. It was a great 
 
246 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 trial. My parents, knowing this time that, if I had 
 committed excesses and suffered from them, they 
 had been virtuous excesses, surrounded me with the 
 most tender soHcitude, and the doctors were called 
 in. To begin with, I was forbidden to do anything. 
 
 It was fearfully wearisome. Bidone consoled 
 me and kept me company while my treatment fol- 
 lowed its course ; but its success was not great. In 
 process of time I recovered my health, and was 
 again able to resume my former occupations; but 
 it was many years before I lost the palpitation and 
 difficulty of breathing, and sometimes even now I 
 feel their effects. I took it into my head that I 
 had an organic complaint, and spent whole days 
 in feehng my palse and counting its beats. All 
 this was not very lively. I found that a morbid 
 feeling was creeping over me, and came thereupon 
 to a peremptory resolution, based on the following 
 reasoning : If I have an organic complaint, it is 
 incurable; if not, it is absurd to torment myself. 
 In either case I had better not think of it, nor feel 
 my pulse, nor pay attention to every slight indis- 
 position, nor give way to anxiety. Having thus 
 made up my mind, I followed tliis system, and have 
 done so ever since with the happiest results. 
 
 But meanwhile I improved very slowly, in spite 
 of change of air and of all the medical prescrip- 
 
EOMAN LONGINGS. 247 
 
 tions. My love for art continued to grow upon 
 me. I had been for some time in the studio of a 
 certain EeveUi, an indifferent artist, but who had 
 spent years at Rome, whence he had brought back 
 a series of studies recalling the splendid beauty of 
 the Campagna. I conceived a longing to go back 
 to Rome, which soon became a sort of mania. I 
 recollect that my eyes once filled with tears as 
 I gazed on a picture by this same EeveUi, repre- 
 senting Monte Sant' Oreste, a very poor perform- 
 ance, but which in those days I looked upon as the 
 ne plus ultra of art. I began to expatiate on this 
 Roman hobby to my mother, as the idea became 
 more paramount in my mind; and, to make a 
 long story short, that dear blessed woman, who 
 would have done anything for me, spoke to my 
 father; and partly in the hope that I might suc- 
 ceed in something good, partly for the sake of my 
 health, and perhaps also to remove me from all risk 
 of a moral relapse, they decided that the journey 
 should be undertaken. 
 
 In a few days the preparations were completed, 
 and my mother, my brother Enrico, and I, started 
 with a maid and a valet, in a travelling chaise drawn 
 by four post-horses. 
 
 My mother undertook this journey solely on 
 my account. God knows whether any other reason 
 
248 MT EECOLLEOTIONS. 
 
 would have made her face a fatigue which, with 
 her dehcate health, was a real risk. But no one 
 in the world knew how to bear suffering with 
 serenity equal to hers. The least attention paid 
 to her was rewarded by an affectionate smile ; she 
 was never exacting ; not a word of complaint or 
 fear ever escaped her ; and she kept up a continual 
 and calm cheerfulness which only the most acute 
 pain was ever able to disturb. 
 
 Our first halt (at Piacenza, I think) gave us 
 some anxiety. She was extremely tired and ex- 
 hausted, and seemed to doubt whether she could 
 continue her journey. But a night's rest restored 
 her. The next morning she was quite another 
 creature, and said, in a lively and cheerful tone : 
 " We are getting on well ; let us set off at once." 
 
 Monsignor Morozzo had already found us an 
 apartment, at which we alighted. It was a first 
 floor, situated in Piazza Colonna, opposite the Chigi 
 Palace, and belonged to a certain Abate Natah. He 
 was what is called a Monsignor di Mantellone,* super- 
 intendant of the ofliee of weights and measures, and 
 was very old. 
 
 * Mantellone is the name given at Rome to a purple mantle, 
 the privilege of wearing which is conferred by his HolineBS, 
 as a proof of his favour, although it does not constitute any 
 particular dignity of the Church. 
 
A MONSIGNOEE AlTD A FORGERY. 249 
 
 I soon had a sample of the new atmosphere in 
 which we moved, so different from our own. One 
 night we had heard a noise in the house. The 
 next morning on rising we asked, " What happened 
 last night?" " They came to fetch the abate, and 
 took him as a prisoner to the Castle," so said the 
 neighbours. Diavolo ! A priest — a high functionary 
 — an old man ! It seemed impossible. 
 
 We heard afterwards that the wretch had com- 
 mitted a forgery in an official transaction. This 
 fact made an immense impression upon me. If 
 high functionaries, priests, old men, said I, do such 
 things at Eome, and at eighty run the risk of end- 
 ing in gaol or a quid simile, what must the rest be 
 like? 
 
 Just as I was about to begin my studies, I fell 
 ill of gastric fever. It lasted a fortnight, and was 
 the only serious illness I ever had. The symptoms 
 of this fever were not threatening, but it left me 
 very weak, and with a prodigious appetite, which 
 my doctor prevented me from satisfying, so that it 
 was a real torment. How fuUy it made me appre- 
 ciate the condition of those who cannot appease their 
 hunger even when in good health ! 
 
 I spent the winter which followed our arrival at 
 Rome, working with constant but ill-directed dili- 
 gence. My life was, however, a model of regtilarity. 
 
250 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Except the Orengo family, who then lived at the 
 Falconieri Palace at San Marcello, Gherardo de' 
 Eossi, and a few others, I frequented no society. 
 I rose early, and went straight to my studio. At 
 first I had one at the Due Macelli, at the corner 
 of the street leading to Capo le Case; then another 
 close by, near the Palace of the Pupazzi. Li the 
 evening, I went to bed betimes, to the great mi'- 
 prise of the Romans, especially the ladies, during 
 the fine season. 
 
 In Rome, as everyone knows, sunset determines 
 the hours. Certain things are done all the year round 
 after the "Ave Maria."* One goes into society, for 
 instance, at tre ore di notte (the third hour of the 
 night) ; so that in winter parties begin at eight, and 
 in summer at eleven o'clock in the evening, if we 
 count in the way usual elsewhere. This gave rise to 
 perpetual qui pro quos. "Why," they said, "do you 
 go to bed at half-past two ?" and I, " No, at half- 
 past ten, as I do all the year round." — " But it is 
 
 * The Am Ma/ria (in France called the Angelus) ia a prayer 
 in honour of the Virgin, announced by the ohuroh-bells at dusk ; 
 and in Italy its name was formerly used, as it still is in many 
 parts, for the beginning of the evening. "Where the old Italian 
 custom of computing the hours from sunset to sunset stiU sur- 
 vives, the Ave Maria is rung out at 24 o'clock. This system of 
 counting to number 24, instead of stopping at 12, being regulated 
 by the sun, occasions the additional inconvenience of a perpetual 
 change in the hours, and greatly puzzles the uninitiated. 
 
MORE POETIC sms. 251 
 
 now half-past two." " No, it is half-past ten." And 
 so forth. 
 
 These regular habits greatly assisted in the resto- 
 ration of my health. Besides my favourite study of 
 drawing, I improved myself in music, Itahan lite- 
 rature, history, &c. And as I was just at the age 
 most liable to the sin of poetry, I became guilty of 
 it, like aU the rest, and actually fabricated a heroic 
 poem, stanza by stanza. Nay, now that I think of 
 it, I had previously, when a boy of fourteen, written 
 several cantos of another poem, called Rinier cCAspro- 
 monte. What a curious Garibaldian coincidence ! 
 
 I forget the title of my second epic composition, 
 but know that the scene was laid at Saluzzo, at the 
 court of the then marquis, and the argument was a 
 somewhat comical adventure. The victor in a certain 
 tournament was to be rewarded by the hand of a 
 fair damsel. A sorcerer, however, her enemy, was 
 interested in preventing the marriage. The lists are 
 opened, the most illustrious paladins take part, and 
 soon remain masters of the field ; when suddenly a 
 knight presents himself — black horse, black armour, 
 all black, of course. He begins to lay about him, 
 and no one is able to resist the shock. Fresh war- 
 riors continue to compete for the young lady, and 
 the toui'nament is protracted so long that a certain 
 fatal hour strikes; after which, farewell bride and 
 
252 MT EEOOLLECTIONS. 
 
 wedding ; it was not to be thought of more. The 
 hour havmg struck, the black knight, who till then 
 moved, acted, and spoke, suddenly becomes immov- 
 able as a post, — he and his horse. At first this 
 attracts no attention ; but as his immobility con- 
 tinues, first remark and then marvel is excited. He 
 is spoken to, called, at last shaken, upon which the 
 coat of armour tumbles to pieces, the helmet falls on 
 one side, the cuirass and the gauntlets on the other. 
 In short, the hauberk was empty! A spirit had 
 assumed the arms to prevent the marriage, &c. 
 
 What do you think ? was it not a most charming 
 invention ? 
 
 And besides a poem, in those days I wrote a 
 comedy, half a tragedy, and frantic odes and son- 
 nets about Italy. 
 
 The tragedy was Dido. Act I. : ^neas sum- 
 m6ns the chiefs of the Trojans to a council. He 
 tells them that Anchises has appeared to him, and 
 bitterly reproached him (^neas) for spending his 
 time in soft dalliance, instead of going to Italy to 
 fulfil his destiny and escape from the curse of Juno, 
 &c. He must therefore depart. But the Getu- 
 lians ? but larbas ? but poor compromised Dido ? 
 In spite of all this, he determines to go ; and they 
 must depart forthwith. The object naturally not 
 being to write a tragedy in one act, it was necessary 
 
MOCK-HEEOICS. 253 
 
 to fill up the other four with the phases of the con- 
 test between ^Eneas and Dido, until the catastrophe, 
 which everyone foresees, of the departure of ^neas 
 and the suicide of Dido. And this was, in fact, my 
 plot. But when half of it was written a ray of light 
 flashed upon me, and I abandoned my tragedy, writ- 
 ing on the manuscript, " A hero who announces in 
 the first scene what he is going to do in the last, 
 is an ambulant bore." And so I sent ^neas. 
 Dido, Anna, and the whole of them to the devil. 
 
 Even then I had a great tendency to work out 
 my ideas by my own lights, instead of humbly 
 accepting them from others ready made. In those 
 days it was almost a heresy to treat the hero of 
 Yirgil so cavalierly. But, Virgil or no Virgil, I had 
 no sympathy for ^neas, nor with his treating poor 
 Dido as a traveller's caprice, nor especially with 
 his useless and silly whining when he meets her 
 soul in the realms of Pluto, merely for the pleasure 
 of being snubbed ; a fate he exactly encounters. Not 
 to speak of the impossibility for us moderns of taking 
 a passionate interest in the gossip of the ancient 
 Olympus, and the famous vengeances of Venus, 
 Jimo,-or Neptune. 
 
 The reasoning which made me abandon my tra- 
 gedy contained an excellent principle, which I have 
 always tried to develop — that of seeking out truth. 
 
254 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 and professing it, without regard to either persons or 
 things. Bidone insisted very much on this research, 
 and extended his theory to all the acts and incidents 
 of every-day hfe. He used to say to me, " Seek 
 for the truth ; and when you have found it, speak it 
 openly and freely. Of course, there are modes and 
 forms to be observed even in the most rigid sincerity. 
 And especially," he added, "do not measure your 
 words timidly according to your audience, nor pause 
 to consider whether your opinion will please or dis- 
 please," &c. 
 
 I will not mention a comedy of mine in one 
 act, the subject of which was an episode in the Hfe 
 of Frederick II., — a senseless absurdity. Yet — but 
 it may be conceit — I camiot help thinking that I 
 might have succeeded in this line. But I met a 
 person who stifled my ambition in the bud. Can 
 you guess who it was? Vestri,* the actor; and it 
 was in this wise : having finished and made a clean 
 copy of my comedy, I put it into my pocket, and, 
 with truly Arcadian simplicity, went straight to the 
 Valle Theatre, where the Vestri company was then 
 acting. It was about noon, and they were at a 
 rehearsal. I succeeded in finding my way to the 
 
 * A very celebrated Italian actor, who founded a school, to 
 which several distinguished modern artists still belong, — for in- 
 stance, Madame Eistori, &c. 
 
CLASSICO-MOEBID ENTHUSIASM. 255 
 
 stage, asked for Vestri, who was superintending his 
 actors book in hand, and with great trepidation 
 opened my case, and offered him my precious manu- 
 script. 
 
 He gave me a glance which, translated into lan- 
 guage, seemed to signify : " Poor baby, you must 
 be completely born before you write comedies !" 
 and turned on his heel, leaving me alone, under 
 pretext of some stage engagement. 
 
 Thus I did not become a writer of comedies. 
 The idea, however, often came back, knocking at 
 my door to gain admittance. But I always dis- 
 missed it with my blessing, as Vestri did me, — not 
 under some pretext, but for the very good reason 
 that, as Italy has no language, no actors, and no 
 public, it is useless to think of writing comedies. 
 The explanations requisite on this point would be 
 too voluminous, so I defer them till a more favour- 
 able opportunity. 
 
 The age which, as I said, is most inchned to the 
 sin of poetry has an equal tendency to political sins 
 of a democratic-repubKcan hue. Who has not felt 
 himself more or less a citizen of Athens or Sparta, 
 or at least of San Marino, while he was a student ? 
 Who between fifteen and twenty has not slain at 
 least one tyrant, — of course only in imagination? 
 As for me, I confess that I would have given I 
 
256 MY KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 know not what to have discovered a tyrant to slay ; 
 but I never had the good fortune to hit upon one. 
 I vented my enthusiasm by declaiming the trage- 
 dies of Alfieri, which I had learned by heart; 
 and, shut up in my studio, foaming at the mouth, 
 and ringing my r-r-r^s, I intoxicated myself with 
 those tits of fury, of which I must say I cannot 
 understand the meaning nor the use in modern 
 society, — when I now think them over calmly, — in 
 spite of all my affection and respect for the name 
 of Alfieri. 
 
 The daggers and cups of poison are welcomed 
 as a real blessing after five acts of uninterrupted 
 virrath, because at least they put an end to it; but 
 to us they seem the proper province of a criminal 
 court ; and Heaven forbid that they should produce 
 any other effect. I did not think of this then. 
 
 We had organised a company to recite these 
 tragedies, and every now and then we used to have 
 private representations. One night I remember that 
 Don Carlos in drawing his sword gave such a blow 
 to a lamp that it sent a deluge of oil over Philip, 
 Isabella, Perez, as well as over his own beautiful 
 cloak, which was sky-blue and silver, of course — 
 he being the lover. 
 
 Howbeit, if Alfieri showed a great deal of oddity 
 and eccentricity in his ideas, as in his life, it is 
 
A SOHNET OF ALFlEEl's. 257 
 
 none the less true that he was the first to discover 
 Italy, and that we are indebted to him for the first 
 symptoms of national Italian resurrection. For this, 
 more than for anything else, he is worthy of the 
 highest honour ; and it is the bounden duty of 
 Itahans to immortalise his memory by realising the 
 prophecy he made in the following sonnet : 
 
 " Giorno verr^, tornev^ giorno in cui 
 Eedivivi omai gli Itali staranno 
 In campo armati, e non col ferro altrui, 
 In vil difesa, ma dei Galli a danno. 
 ***** 
 Odo gi^ dirmi, o Tate nostro, in prari 
 Seooli nato, eppur creato hai quests 
 Sublimi et^ che profetando andavi 1" 
 
 " The day will come, tlie day return, in which 
 Eegenerate Italy, at length aroused, 
 Shall speed unto the battle-field in arms ; 
 Not now for tame defence, with foreign steel, 
 But hurled against the Uauls. 
 ***** 
 Methinks mine ear already hears this strain, 
 Thou Bard, who, f all'n upon degenerate days, 
 Couldst yet create this age subUme, — ^thyself 
 Its prophet." 
 
 Suppose someone had then whispered in the ear 
 of the bard, " The Gauls wiU be the efficient and 
 immediate cause of the triumph of Italian nation- 
 ality. They will be led by the nephew of him who 
 signed the peace of Campoformio ; and the Italian 
 press, existing in the 'age sublime' which you are 
 
 VOL. I. s 
 
258 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 foretelling, will fire off against him and France a 
 volley of insolence, as a sign of their tender grati- 
 tude."* 
 
 I should like to know what the honest and gene- 
 rous Alfieri would have replied to this counter- 
 prophecy. I do not know what he would have said, 
 but I know well how I should be tempted to address 
 him, had I the honour of being in his presence at 
 my actual age, as I was when a child. I would 
 say to him : " Signer Conte, forgive my excess of 
 sincerity ; you are one cause of these enormities, 
 while another is that strange mixture of ideas which 
 are at once pagan, immoral, and without any ra- 
 tional applicability in our day, and which nevertheless 
 have been the basis, or rather the fertilising essence, 
 of our education, and, I might add, of your own." 
 
 If at least we had been taught to judge and ap- 
 preciate facts ! If we had been told, for instance, 
 that nothing can excuse assassination, because it is 
 an act of treachery in execution of a sentence pro- 
 nounced without trial by an incompetent tribunal ! 
 It is true that Alexander of Pherse, Nabis the Lace- 
 dsemonian, the Sicihans Agathocles, Phalaris, and 
 
 * Written in 1863-64:. It would be curious to know how the 
 author would have modified these views had he heard the speeches 
 on the Eoman question delivered before the Corps Lggislatif in 
 the year of grace 1867 by the mouthpieces of the French Govern- 
 ment. 
 
ANTI-CLASSIC ANTIDOTE. 259 
 
 Dionysius, Nero, Comnlodus, &c. were such loath- 
 some wretches, so powerM and so well guarded, 
 that the benefit of extenuating circumstances may 
 be conceded to those who rid the world of them, 
 by whatever means. But such iyrants no longer 
 exist (I do not speak of the French terrorists, 
 whom I regard as exceptions) ; brazen bulls are 
 no longer cast, the Kving are not now sewn up 
 in sacks with corpses ; and modern petty tyrants 
 can be dealt with in many other ways, more effi- 
 cacious, because far more loyal and straightforward. 
 We ought to have been made to observe how 
 fallacious and erroneous the verdict of the assas- 
 sin has almost always turned out to be; how little 
 he discerned who was deserving of death, even if 
 the legality of the form be admitted : we ought to 
 have been shown that the present age has a para- 
 mount need of universal responsibihty, and is eager 
 for general security, and an act of habeas corpus ex- 
 tending to the whole world ; that it is inclined to 
 clemency on every occasion, and revolts from the 
 infliction of capital punishment, especially for poH- 
 tical reasons ; and still more from arbitrary judg- 
 ments pronounced without a trial, without a defence, 
 without witnesses being confronted. This antidote 
 should at least have been administered to rectify the 
 false ideas necessarily instilled by reading and study- 
 
260 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 ing Pagan classics: and also — if Count Alfieri wiU 
 allow me to say so — by the recital of his tragedies: 
 for what is really the fundamental simple idea they 
 contain? What act attains the highest summit of 
 virtue, glory, and human fame ? What remedy is 
 suggested for the evils produced by wicked princes 
 and bad governments? What is the shortest way 
 for a nation to arrive at perfect felicity, liberty, 
 prosperity? &c. Let someone hide behind a door, 
 lying in wait for the tyrant, and when he passes 
 — bang ! a good blow on his head, and the thing is 
 done, completed and terminated ; one blow makes a 
 whole people joyous and independent; all are free, 
 happy, virtuous, equal, like loving brothers; in a 
 word, they have suddenly become inhabitants of a 
 land of Cocagne ! And is it reaUy thus ? Is all this 
 true, and does it perchance inspire sound ideas ? 
 
 Count Alfieri must allow me to say he is in part 
 responsible for the political ideas (I have proofs of 
 it) rampant in Italy in the universities, behind the 
 scenes of the theatres, in the billiard-rooms, the 
 cafes, in the press generally, in the barbers' shops 
 — and this list unfortunately embraces three-fourths 
 of the Italians ; and an equal responsibility weighs 
 on the antique classical education which was given 
 us, winding-up with the finishing school of the se- 
 cret societies ; and if a grain of jest pervades my 
 
MISGUIDED IDEAS. 261 
 
 words, it is because this is part of my nature. But 
 the imaginative fancies, immoderate cravings, and 
 unbridled ambition, which, after long brooding, ex- 
 plode in certain brains of small capacity, little judg- 
 ment, and less instruction, are unhappily only too 
 serious. And all this is the result of ancient exam- 
 ples badly applied and worse understood; of the 
 glorification of a hundred guilty and insensate acts 
 in history, dramas, and tragedies; and to think of 
 the vast interests, the incalculable consequences that 
 are thus abandoned to the caprices of madmen, 
 scoundrels, or fanatics, rendered all the more dan- 
 gerous, thanks to such a strange perversion ! When ■ 
 we Italians consider — had Orsini succeeded ! — 
 
 But let us leave this subject, which makes my 
 hair stand on end. Let us thank God that he did not 
 succeed; and inquire whether it would be possible 
 for teachers, authors, poets, and also for preachers, 
 professors, and play-writers, to persuade themselves, 
 once for all, that false ideas corrupt human brains, 
 and that misguided minds are the ruin of society, 
 and thus learn to inculcate better ones : and put 
 forth such as may be heard with pleasure if well 
 expounded, and yet better a man instead of making 
 him worse than he was before. 
 
 My mother, who was highly cultivated, and added 
 to exquisite taste in literature the greatest upright- 
 
262 MY EECOLLBCTTOKS. 
 
 ness of intellect and heart, might have been a model 
 for the teachers I am sighing after, to rectify the 
 false ideas that are current in the world. It was 
 my special good fortune to have her near me, aiid 
 disposed to help me in every possible way. As I 
 wrote, I showed her my productions, and she found 
 in them a text for subtle criticism and ingenious 
 remark. Then, as ever, I did not profit by this pre- 
 cious advantage as 1 might, nor was I so grateful 
 to her as I ought to have been. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Journey to Naples — The friends I met there— The Carbonari — 
 Greeting to Cardinal Amat and Count della Margherita — Our 
 travelling-chaise passes over my body — Visit of my father — ■ 
 he sees my works— M. de Blacas — Miss Knight— English 
 friends and my shame — Miss Knight and one's native country 
 — The Emperor of Austria at Eome — General yearning for 
 peace in Europe — I catch the malaria fever — My master Mar- 
 tin Verstappen — his character — his school — We were pupils 
 and servants as in the fifteenth century — Our impertinence to 
 the master — My mind slowly ripens — Period of moral distress 
 — Dreams of the future — Method of study I proposed to my- 
 self — Flights of fancy — Modified political ideas — Cardinal 
 Consalvi — Love appears upon the scene. 
 
 About the middle of winter, my brother Enrico, 
 who, as an artillery officer, had only a limited leave, 
 went to Naples, that he might not lose so good an 
 opportunity of visiting that interesting country. After 
 spending some weeks in the usual roinid of ancient 
 and modern sights, he fell ill, and in a few days 
 the Chevaliers Germagnano, two Piedmontese gen- 
 tlemen, friends of my family, who were at Naples, 
 had to write to my mother that his iUness had in- 
 creased, and that serious fears began to be entertained 
 of a fatal issue. 
 
 The case was urgent, and my mother sent me 
 to Naples without delay. I started in the evening, 
 
264 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 in our usual travelling-camage. It was the time 
 at which brigands were most rife. This made my 
 mother very anxious, and to the suni required for 
 my travelling expenses she added another to pay 
 for an escort. I at once calculated that the latter 
 could be so much more pleasantly employed at 
 Naples, that it was worth while to run some risk. 
 I did so, and successfiilly ; saw no brigands; and, 
 on arriving at Naples, beheld in their stead a little 
 heap of crowns ready to offer me their services. 
 Unfortunately, the wide and easy roads of roulette 
 soon led them into the hands of Barbaja.* Would 
 they had been the only ones ! 
 
 I found Enrico much better ; he was soon able to 
 leave his bed, and was visited by a young gentleman 
 of Macerata with whom he had made acquaintance, 
 to whom I too was consequently introduced. Like 
 me, he occupied himself with music and drawing, 
 and his name was Marquis Domenico Ricoi. We 
 never met after those days at Naples, nor did I know 
 what had become of him, mitil one day in 1852 he 
 came to ask the hand of my daughter Alessandrina 
 
 * The famous Neapolitan impresario, who at one time had the 
 management of all the principal Italian theatres. Rossini and 
 Barbaja were great friends ; and it was for him that the illus- 
 trious maestro wrote his first musical compositions. He also 
 kept a large gambling-house at Naples, in a palace in Strada 
 Toledo, still called " Palazzo Barbaja." 
 
EAELY POLITICAL DISCUSSIONS. 265 
 
 for his son Matteo ; a marriage which happily took 
 place. 
 
 At Naples I found the Marquis San Satm-nino, the 
 same who succeeded my father as minister in Kome, 
 and who had been transferred from thence. His 
 Secretary of Legation was an old friend of mine, 
 whom I was very glad to see again, and in whose 
 society I spent my time. I drew from nature, 
 studied, and admired the beauties of Naples (not 
 those of the animal kingdom, mind !). He wrote 
 verses and tragedies, which he then read aloud for 
 my benefit. 
 
 This friend of mine, this tragic poet, was after- 
 wards for sixteen years a minister of Charles Albert. 
 He was Count Clemente Solaro della Margherita, 
 with whom I have been engaged in constant dis- 
 putes ever since.* Even then we discussed politics, 
 religion, cosmogony, philosophy, a little of every- 
 thing, but without any bitterness. At that time 
 Naples was already pervaded by that subterranean 
 agitation which subsequently burst out in 1820 ; and 
 the increasing organisation and discipline of the se- 
 cret society of the Carbonari was a notorious fact. 
 
 * Count Solaro della Margherita, after the fall of the system 
 of which he was the impersonification, at the first liberal reforms 
 granted by King Charles Albert to his people in 1847, became for 
 many years the well-known leader of the Piedmoutese reactionist 
 opposition. 
 
266 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 We were neither of us great admirers of secret 
 sects ; and verily, when Italy determined to regene- 
 rate herself, she had to apply to a society anything 
 but secret — that of rifled artillery ! At all events, 
 it was the duty of the Legation to inform its own 
 government of what was preparing. 
 
 I laugh even now when I remember a poor devil 
 of a Carbonaro, who earned a scanty pittance by the 
 trade of a spy in the service of the Sardinian Lega- 
 tion. When he was pressed with questions to dis- 
 cover some very secret matter, his contortions were 
 piteous. He remonstrated, saying, with his fanny 
 Neapolitan accent, " EcceUenza, I cannot teU you 
 that; it is impossible." And if the question was 
 urged : " EcceUenza," he would exclaim, " you 
 understand. ... I have taken an oath . . . give me 
 at least another ducat!" 
 
 Besides Count della Margherita, I again met 
 another countryman. Marquis Amat di San Filippo, 
 a very accomplished and charming young man, who 
 is now a cardinal, and one of the most highly es- 
 teemed among the sacred college. 
 
 If these pages happen to fall into the hands of 
 my two old friends, I beg them for one moment 
 to forget the disparity of the lives we have each 
 led, and to remember the pleasant excursions we 
 made together in the balmy evenings of that favoured 
 
A CAEEIAGE ACCIDENT. 267 
 
 clime ; giving a thought also to the memory of the 
 worthy Federigo, our attentive and accomplished 
 cicerone, who guided us in that vast labyrinth, and 
 thanlis to whom we were able to enjoy its beauties 
 and singularities. 
 
 On our return to Rome my neck was near being 
 broken by an accident ; but I was destined to escape 
 this, and many others still worse, without receiving 
 even a scratch. The carriage had stopped at a post- 
 house on the long straight road across the Pontine 
 Marshes, and fresh horses were being harnessed. 
 The postiUion of the preceding stage had already been 
 paid, and poured forth the whole string of oaths and 
 maledictions usually employed to extract a little extra 
 payment. I had put an end to the negotiation, and 
 was reading. The departure of a chaise-and-four 
 from one of these post-houses»might seem the start 
 of a troop of demons and witches on a nocturnal 
 ramble, so desperate are the howls, jumps, plunges, 
 and rears of those six beasts (if I include the two 
 postiUions), or rather of those eight or ten, counting 
 the ostlers, helpers, and urchins, who push, whip, and 
 bellow, the dogs that bark, &c. However, off you 
 go at last, and generally straight along the high- 
 road, till a series of tremendous plunges and back- 
 leaps, or at least a gaUop at full speed, brings you, 
 if nothing is broken, safe to the next relay. 
 
268 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 But this time was to be an exception. Instead 
 of dashing along the high road, the whole convoy 
 rushed into the canal excavated by Pius VI. for the 
 purpose of draining the marshes, and which runs 
 parallel to the road the whole way. Enrico and our 
 servant, who foresaw what was going to happen, had 
 time to leap out of the carriage. Being occupied 
 with my book, I was too late, caught On the step, and 
 was thrown to the ground. I heard a consoling voice 
 cry " poor Massimo !" just as I saw one of the hind- 
 wheels of the carriage coming right upon my back. 
 Grood-bye to my spine ! thought I. The good-natured 
 wheel, however, passed over me without breaking 
 any bones, causing only a slight contusion, much 
 to the astonishment of all. Springing to my feet, T 
 leaped for joy; the chaise, horses, and postillions were 
 motionless in the caijal; the post-master seized a 
 pitch-fork, threatening to kill the latter, and even 
 when pacified by our entreaties, he continued the 
 comedy by dismissing them, which of course only re- 
 sulted in their hiding behind the post-house until the 
 interested parties were gone, when they emerged 
 from shelter and resumed their duties. 
 
 Li spite of this mishap, our mother ?aw us both 
 safe and sound in the evening, Enrico perfectly re- 
 covered from his illness. 
 
 Early in the spring we hired a villa at Castel 
 
GENIAL SOCIETY. 269 
 
 Gandolfo (the. summer residence of the Pope), of cer- 
 tain well-to-do proprietors of the name of Albenzi. 
 
 Here my father came to see us. He examined 
 my drawings, and certainly did not attribute to them 
 more merit than they deserved ; but, not to dishearten 
 me, he showed himself tolerably satisfied, and did not 
 criticise them severely. It must have seemed to him 
 hardly possible that a thorough scamp like me should 
 be bent upon work, and, good or bad, produce some- 
 thing, instead of spending his life in caf^s and bil- 
 liard-rooms as before. It is certain that from that 
 time forward it has been unceasingly my endeavour 
 and delight to live among honest people, and avoid 
 rowdies. The society which we mixed with at Castel 
 Gandolfo was very interesting. M. de Blacas, his 
 wife, and the statf of his Legation,* who lived at the 
 VUla Cybo ; an English lady, Miss Knight, an old 
 friend of my parents ; and occasionally the Torlonias, 
 when they were at their villa, besides the visitors we 
 each of us received, and who came from Rome. 
 
 Miss Knight had been governess to Princess 
 Charlotte, daughter of the Regent, and first wife of 
 
 * The Duke of Blaoas, Minister of Louis XVIIL, and intimate 
 friend of Charles X., was for many years French Ambassador at 
 Eome and Naples. Gifted with wealth and a taste for aroheeo- 
 logy, he formed the celebrated collection of antiquities which 
 bears his name, and which has lately been added to the British 
 Museum. 
 
270 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Leopold, King of the Belgians. She had known all 
 that dazzling but corrupt generation, and had been 
 in Italy during the last years of the century. She 
 had seen the Court of Naples, King Ferdinand, and 
 Queen Caroline, Acton, Nelson, and OoUingwood: the 
 captain of the Centaur (the ship which led the Kne 
 at AbouMr, and served as a signal to the others by 
 the misfortune she had of running aground, whereby 
 she was prevented from taking part in the action), 
 the gallant Trowbridge, was to have married Miss 
 Knight, but, as she used to say, " he was born un- 
 lucky:" ordered to India with a ship of war, he sailed, 
 and was never heard of again, only a report spread 
 that he had gone to the bottom in the Mozambique 
 channel. 
 
 This kind friend of ours, who was no longer 
 young, taught me English, and talked to me of 
 literature, arts, and sciences, for all subjects were 
 familiar to her. She would relate to me events she 
 had herself witnessed. Nelson was her idol, and it 
 is impossible to describe the feelings with which she 
 spoke of the fatal Emma, Lady Hamilton, of the 
 death of Gravina, and the breach of the capitulation 
 of Castel deU' Ovo. 
 
 Through her I knew and became intimate with 
 other English families — Lady Dawson, the Fairfaxes, 
 Miss Mackenzie — who all showed me real affection 
 
ASHAMED OF BEING ITALIAN. 271 
 
 and overwhelmed me with kindness ; but I felt so 
 painfully humiliated in their company, that familiar 
 acquaintance with them caused me more bitterness 
 than pleasure. 
 
 I was ashamed of being an Italian ! 
 
 I cannot describe the shame with which the then 
 political state of Italy oppressed me. I felt the guilt 
 of it as if disgrace were stamped upon my brow ; 
 every word seemed to me an allusion, and I fancied 
 all eyes were fixed on me. The cold bearing of the 
 English, the indifference with which most of them 
 naturally regarded a "youngster like me, the quiet 
 self-possessed pride written on their faces, all seemed 
 invented on purpose to mortify me, to make me feel 
 my inferiority, and give me to imderstand that when 
 a country has for centuries belonged to whoever chose 
 to take possession of it, and has allowed adventurers 
 from the four quarters of the globe to feed and fatten 
 within its borders, Kke huntsmen in a region where 
 game is abundant, — ^he who belongs to such a nation 
 may be tolerated by foreigners, but as to being on 
 terms of equality with them — never. 
 
 One day, I remember, Miss KJuight was talking 
 of my fatherland to me ; I answered in the bitterness 
 of my heart, ^'Have the Italians one, perchance?" 
 She stared at me in surprise, and my mother re- 
 proved me, I did not explain my idea, nor. reply 
 
272 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 another word ; I could not bear to touch that chord, 
 it was too painful. Heaven knows what the good 
 Englishwoman thought of me ; for though certainly 
 not in favour of any revolutionary aberrations, she 
 was English to the core, and consequently loved 
 liberty, and her own country above all. 
 
 The fatherland is not merely the spot on which 
 we are born ; the Italians have long known that. 
 
 This sense of humiliation has kept me sad com- 
 pany almost throughout life ; it has been in part the 
 cause of my constant disinclination for foreign travel 
 and for the society of strangers. I own to having 
 always had a morbid sensibility on this point ; and I 
 have often taken exaggerated offence at words and 
 acts which probably alluded to anything rather than 
 to our inferiority. Happy Gioberti, who triumphed 
 in having discovered the supremacy of the Italians !* 
 
 * An allusion to the celebrated political and philosophical work 
 of Vincenzo Gioberti, II Primato morale e civile degV Italiani (The 
 Moral and Civil Supremacy of the Italians), first published at 
 Brussels in June 1843. In spite of this disparaging remark of 
 Massimo d'Azeglio, it is not only a great book, as Cesare Balho 
 called it, but its appearance was an important event in Italian 
 histoiy, or politics rather, and had both at home and abroad an 
 effect for which Italy will always owe gratitude to its author. 
 II Primato is dedicated to Silvio Pellico, and bears as an epi- 
 graph a quotation from Pliny, describing Italy in the following 
 emphatic terms : " Terra omnium terrarum alumna, eadem et 
 parens, numine Deftm electa, qua3 caelum ipsum clarius faceret, 
 
A QUOTATION FROM DANTE. 273 
 
 But SO I was and so I am, and cannot feel other- 
 wise. 
 
 This painful thought almost entirely vanished 
 from 1848 to 1859 ; since 1860 it has partly revived, 
 and taken fresh root in my mind. We are not the 
 admiration of Europe, it must be acknowledged ; 
 therefore I live alone. 
 
 The Emperor of Austria came to visit Rome ; and 
 you may imagine if the idea of witnessing the festi- 
 vities in his honour ever crossed my mind ! I would 
 sooner have hidden myself in the thickets of the 
 forest Fajola, an immense wood which stretches for 
 hundreds of miles from the lake of Albano along the 
 backbone of the Apennines, and is an almost virgin 
 forest, like those of America. 
 
 The reception of the Emperor by the Pope and 
 the Eomans was, however, most splendid. The 
 latter were then very different from what they have 
 since become, and might in aU sincerity have ad- 
 dressed to Kaiser Franz that verse of Dante, which 
 
 sparsa congregaret imperia, ritusque molliret, et tot populorum 
 discordes ferasque linguas sermonis commercio contraheret : col- 
 loquia et humanitatem homini daret : breviterque, una ounctarum 
 gentium in toto orbe patria fieret." The whole work is somewhat 
 in keeping with this hyperbolic strain ; but it had the merit of 
 fostering the national idea, still further developed in the Prolego- 
 mena and the Gesuita Moderno, subsequent publications of the 
 eminent philosopher. 
 
 VOL. I. T 
 
274 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 the papal court alone would willingly recite now if it 
 
 could: 
 
 " Cesare mio, perchfe non m' accompagne ?" 
 " My Csesar, why dost thou desert my side ?" 
 
 It must, however, be observed, in justification not 
 only of the Romans but of the world, that, after 
 twenty years of slaughter, devastation, and inva- 
 sions ; after being plundered by republicans, im- 
 perialists, foreigners and natives, Frenchmen, Grer- 
 mans, Russians, Cossacks, Tartars, and I know not 
 who else besides, all the nations of Europe were 
 utterly exhausted, and longed to see the end of so 
 much desolation, that they might live ; live in peace, 
 no matter whether under a king, pope, emperor, or 
 the devil, provided only they might live. 
 
 But I, who had scarcely perceived all the evils 
 which had come to pass during my childhood, was 
 not possessed with this intense longing for repose ; 
 on the contrary, I bore within me the seeds of the 
 new generation and its works. Quite the reverse 
 of living in peace ! 
 
 While we were staying at Castel Gandolfo, I 
 used to go out shooting in the plain below, and in- 
 stead of birds I caught the terrible Maremma fever, 
 the ancient scourge of Latium. Fever undoubtedly 
 raged in the time of Horace, who complains of it, 
 as everyone knows. I do not, however, understand 
 
MAEBMMA FEVER. 275 
 
 how many students can believe that the ancient 
 Latins were equally afflicted by it. How reconcile 
 large armies, like that of the Rutuh, for instance, 
 which Coriolanus led to the gates of Eome, with the 
 existence of malaria ? Whoever has been at Ardea, 
 their ancient capital, and the head-quarters also of the 
 fever (which I have visited, thanks to the hospitality 
 of my excellent friend Duke Sforza, the actual lord 
 of that ancient citadel), and has seen their territory, 
 which certainly did not exceed forty or fifty square 
 miles, will never believe it possible to have raised an 
 army of 40,000 men there, had the Maremma fever 
 existed at that time. Try and raise 1000 men in the 
 Pontine Marshes now, if you can ! 
 
 When I caught the fever, quinine had not yet 
 been discovered ; the only remedy then in use was 
 bark, of which I was made to swallow large tumblers- 
 ful at a time. But in the beginning I had eight 
 or ten violent attacks without intermission, and the 
 antidote could not be administered till they ceased. 
 Thank God, it did not turn into malignant fever ; 
 but I narrowly escaped a premature journey to the 
 next world. Even after the disease left me, I went 
 on taking bark, and swallowed seven or eight pounds 
 in a few months. StiU, for more than a year I con- 
 tinued subject to occasional attacks of the fever; 
 but, strange to say, it did not aifect my constitution 
 
276 MY EECOLLBCTIONS. 
 
 in any way. A proverb of the Roman Campagna 
 
 says on this subject, " La terzana, il giovane risana, 
 
 Al veccJiio suona la campana.^^ 
 
 " Tertian young men treateth well, 
 But for tlie old it tolls a knell." 
 
 No one can have a conception of the icy shiver- 
 ings of the algid stage, nor of the agonising heat of 
 the burning one, both characteristic of these fevers, 
 which certainly make one suffer intensely. For the 
 Roman Campagna quinine is the most valuable of 
 discoveries. Since they are deprived of steam- 
 engines, the press, and many other discoveries, let 
 its poor inhabitants at least have quinine, which for 
 them is a blessing that makes up for all the others. 
 
 I continued my study of art with the same 
 ardour. At Rome I drew in the studio of Martin 
 Verstappen, and in the country from nature. 
 
 Martin Verstappen of Antwerp was one of the 
 best and most esteemed artists of that day. He was 
 born without a right hand, instead of which nature 
 had only given him two or three deformed fingers, 
 with which he was able to hold a palette made on 
 purpose for him, while he painted with his left. 
 He had the qualities as well as the faults of the 
 Flemish school — colom', execution, and deficiency in 
 drawing. But his love for the true, which he sought 
 not in that which is ugly but in the beautiful, was so 
 
A GEEMAN DUFFER. 277 
 
 real, he took such pains to study nature, in spite of 
 trouble, danger, and fatigue, that he succeeded in 
 producing pictures that had the great merit of being 
 pleasing and attractive, and of procui'ing him the 
 means of living comfortably. 
 
 He was an excellent man ; but he lived in great 
 retirement, avoiding not only gay society, but every 
 one in general : he got up at daybreak, worked as 
 long as he could see, and then in the evening walked 
 for miles and miles, always alone, and for the sole 
 purpose of stretching his legs. His strong constitu- 
 tion required violent exercise ; and, not to lose time 
 during the day, he walked at night, defjang rain and 
 everything else. He had been doomed to this hermit 
 Kfe by the exti-eme diffidence of his character. He 
 had come to Italy with heaven only knows what 
 idea of the Italians ; and even I cannot say they are 
 angels. On the contrary, there both are, and were, 
 in Rome, especially at that period, an abundance of 
 scamps of every degree, not to mention wild fellows, 
 who, partly for their own advantage, and partly for 
 fun, would have deemed it a real treat to expose and 
 ridicule a German muff (a technical phrase of our 
 artistic slang), by giving him a chance of showing 
 himself as great a duffer as nature had already made 
 him. 
 
 Whatever the reason, it is a fact that he lived 
 
278 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 as a recluse, associating with no one, not even 
 with his pupils, who were only two in number — a 
 young Eoman and I. My fellow-student was a son 
 of the sculptor Pacetti, his landlord; and I believe 
 Verstappen had only accepted him because of the 
 quasi-impossibility of saying no. I had been admit- 
 ted for similar reasons, and I think our presence 
 gave him as much pleasure as the eyes derive from 
 the smoke of green wood. The only advantage to 
 be enjoyed at his school was as follows. His lodging 
 was composed of an ante-room with large studio- 
 windows, in which he hung up his finished pictures 
 until sent to their destinations. Another studio ad- 
 joining this room was his sanctum, and gave access 
 to other rooms unknown to mortal man. 
 
 The gate of Castel S. Angelo, though sufficiently 
 well guarded, cannot be compared to the studio in 
 which our master worked. The latter was always se- 
 cured by a bolt, which was only withdrawn on certain 
 days, not regularly. On these occasions the good 
 Martin came forth with a face like a boiled apple, and 
 two white eyes as round as ducats. We used to be 
 copying one of his pictures. He would stop behind 
 our chairs, and gaze for five minutes without utter- 
 ing a word ; we, who were ignorant of the rules, the 
 different methods, and the tricks of art, awaited some 
 wise precept, as from the mouth of an oracle. 
 
QUIXOTIC IDEAS. 279 
 
 " A leedle hart," was the great sentence which fell 
 from his lips, in his harsh Grerman pronunciation ; 
 and he passed to the other pupil. Five minutes more 
 of contemplation, and then, " A leedle heffy ;" and off 
 he went to his own affairs : it was for the sake of the 
 latter, and not for ours, that he occasionally came 
 out and glanced at our daubs as he passed. 
 
 He understood the relations between master and 
 pupil much in the same way (except their affection- 
 ate side) as the old masters did. When he accepted 
 pupils, he expected them amiably to become his ser- 
 vants to a certain extent. 
 
 I did not much object to this idea, finding in it. 
 something of a patriarchal and familiar character, 
 which excluded all sense of humiliation. I am igno- 
 rant, and he knows a great deal ; I require his help, 
 he has no need of mine ; my object is neither gain 
 nor ambition, but art. Besides, I must confess that 
 a touch of Don Quixote lurks in my nature. Just 
 as he imagined himself a comrade of Tristan or 
 Launcelot, I fancied that I was one of the many 
 pupils of the ancient schools, who were part of the 
 family of their teacher, did everything for him, and 
 looked upon him as a father and master in one. 
 
 For two or three years therefore, though I did 
 not actually use a broom or carry water, I very often 
 opened the door when I heard a knock, received or 
 
280 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 delivered messages, carried pictures, and, in a word, 
 rendered a variety of services which, though above 
 the duties of a mere menial, may nevertheless be 
 thought below the dignity of the descendant of so 
 many heroes, and of a future President of the Council. 
 
 What say you? Was I right or wrong in accept- 
 ing the part of a pupil upon the old model of Giotto, 
 Masaccio, and others, when painters used to keep a 
 shop and shopmen, like pork -butchers ? 
 
 At all events, there is one consideration in my 
 favom\ If I was a servant for the love of art, I 
 have never acted like one to be helped up that 
 .greasy pole, at the top of which hang decorations, 
 ribbons, titles, and ministerial portfolios, instead of 
 sausages and fat turkeys. And in my conscience I 
 really think that the sin of servility will not be the 
 one for which I shall risk condemnation at the Last 
 Judgment. 
 
 Faithfully to observe artistic traditions, we every 
 now and then played off some trick upon our un- 
 sociable master. If, for instance, we had been left 
 to desire his appearance for several days — he often 
 forgot our very existence for a while — we decided in 
 council that an example must be made. 
 
 We piled up easels, chairs, and frames in such 
 a way as not to occasion any damage ; then gave 
 a push, and down they all came with a crash as 
 
. MISCHIEVOUS INSTINCTS. 281 
 
 though the house were falling. Poor Martui fancied 
 all his pictures were in tatters; and he darted out 
 like a flash of lightning, I can tell you. Of coui'se, 
 we always had an answer ready for the anxious 
 " Vot has peen de matter ?" which would escape liirn 
 as he withdrew the holt and ran into his exhibition 
 room. 
 
 You see, if the instinct of mischief had no longer 
 a ma,stery over me, I could not boast that it was 
 entirely vanquished. A grain of this ingredient adds 
 a certain charm to youth, and I certainly did not 
 possess a larger dose of it. My character began 
 to show some signs of maturity ; but it took a long 
 time to ripen thoroughly. I did not really feel my- 
 self a man, nor succeed in arriving at firm convic- 
 tions, nor in conceiving clear and well-founded ideas 
 on the majority of the most important moral, social, 
 and pohtical phenomena until very late. This tardy 
 growth is perhaps inherent in my intellect ; or it may 
 spring from the longing I have always felt to dis- 
 cover as much truth as possible about everj-thing, 
 not being able to content myself with probabilities, 
 or accept the decrees of authority unquestioned. It 
 takes time to examine the reason of everything for 
 oneself In those days I had hardly begun this long 
 and up-hiU task ; and besides, my age was not that 
 of logical reasoning, but rather prone to sentiment 
 
282 MY EBCOLLECTIONS. 
 
 and passion. I, who was destined to experience 
 very ardent ones, and of various kinds, then found 
 myself in a very peculiar condition. I felt within 
 me all the strength of passion, but there was no 
 object to give it shape, soul, and life. In the early 
 morning I often used to wander among the groves 
 of the Villa Borghese, taking with me both drawing 
 and writing materials. I sat alone in the shade, but 
 neither wrote nor drew. Aspirations, yearnings, 
 forebodings, hopes, dreams of love, glory, sorrow, 
 bold and brilliant actions, mysteriously inflamed my 
 heart and imagination. It was a painful state, be- 
 cause it had neither aim nor issue ; but yet it 
 awakened an intense joy in my inmost soul from the 
 ftJness of life with which it inundated me. The 
 mysterious flower which blooms in our souls as the 
 forei'unner of spring was budding within me. It is 
 an inestimable treasure, the greatest of all to him 
 who knows how to profit by it, for it reveals the 
 most powerful of aU the faculties which God has 
 imparted to men. But, unfortunately, most of us 
 fling this treasure to the whirlwind of passion ; the 
 energy is uselessly squandered, and the evil is not 
 felt until too late. How often in this world he who 
 knows cannot, and he who could does not know I 
 
 I had done like the rest. In my earliest youth, 
 made precocious by circumstances, but which, in fact, 
 
DKEAMS OF YOUTH. 283 
 
 was only adolescence, I had trampled the first bloom 
 of my heart and soul in the mud; but, thanks to 
 example and education — thanks to Bidone — that 
 shameftd recklessness came to a timely end. My 
 perversity was not complete, only the surface had 
 been scathed. Perhaps this was owing to my nature 
 — a gift of Heaven, and no work of mine — a nature 
 from which it is difficult to efface that youthful and 
 glorious impress which is so faithful a guardian of 
 generous thoughts. In fact, I did not suddenly 
 become old. Touthfulness of soul lingered long 
 after age had crept upon my body, and even now 
 it is not quite extinct. It is only since 1860 that 
 I begin to feel my heart grown old. Hope is the 
 best preserver of its freshness, and years (it is their 
 bitterest insult) carry away several with every change 
 of season. 
 
 Fancy, therefore, what I was in 1819-20. I 
 sought a means of imparting life and form to the 
 resplendent future that appeared to me in my dreams. 
 In art I imagined new m.ethods, new conceptions : 
 not pictures painted after the recipes of the man- 
 nerists of the eighteenth century ; not the minute 
 and scrupulous imitation of nature of my contem- 
 poraries ; for if this were the essence of art, photo- 
 graphy would be preferable to painting. I could 
 not then take into account the scrupulous imitation 
 
284 MY KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 of the ugly, realism not having yet invaded the class 
 of landscape-painters. 
 
 Yet, as I am on this subject, the realist school in 
 landscape-painting is an invention which does honour 
 to human ingenuity. Someone arose who had no 
 artistic fire, no sense of colour, and . who was too 
 lazy to work. A fool would have humbly slunk back, 
 saying, " I have not the qualities to become a painter ; 
 patience ; so be it, I will be a carpenter." The man of 
 talent said instead, "What is execution, composition, 
 and colom-ing, this precision of lights and shades, 
 this glimpse of truth ? Nothing but the clap-trap of 
 the fogies of the old school. Here is the new art, 
 the art of the futm-e." 
 
 And everyone can see what it has produced. 
 But the public swallows it all. 
 
 Let us, however, leave this subject for the pre- 
 sent. I shall find some better opportunity of speak- 
 ing of art and artists — a topic which demands much 
 discussion. 
 
 Thus, in art too, I built castles in the air, and fed 
 on fancies ; but being aware that my first business 
 was to acquire a thorough mastery of my brush and 
 palette, and the power of execution in the reproduc- 
 tion of nature, I was bent on securing a good founda- 
 tion at whatever cost of labour. The idea of writing 
 as well as painting, nevertheless, danced before my 
 
DOUBTS AJSD INDECISIONS. 285 
 
 mind, and I had only to decide on the subject, the 
 object, the language, and the style — mere trifles, of 
 course ! I had often talked this over with Bidone 
 when at Turin. In this also his single piece of ad- 
 vice was, " Write." « But about what ?" " Write." 
 "But in what style and language?" "Write." 
 " But," said I at last, " if, one may say, there is 
 neither language nor readable prose in Italy?" " Is 
 there not? Invent one on purpose!" 
 
 It was easily said, but meanw'hile I chafed at 
 being unable to arrive at a satisfactory solution. I 
 then thought, " Let me study in the interim ;" and 
 I was right. During my stay in Rome the question 
 of writing remained undecided. It was not to be 
 solved, well or iH, till many years later ; and in the 
 interval I suspended all further coiasideration of it, 
 thinking it impossible to draw from nature and 
 write simultaneously. And herein I was not far 
 wrong. But my poor little imagination fluttered its 
 wings, as diminutive as those on Mercury's cap, 
 even beyond the fields of art and hterature. 
 
 Happy they who can remain on the spot where 
 they were bom, smiling on heaven and earth, on 
 men and beasts, and swallowing everything that is 
 thrust into their mouths or brains, and when their 
 turn comes, leave the world as they found it. And 
 unhappy they who, scarcely out of their cradles, and 
 
286 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 as soon as they have glanced around them, chirp 
 out an insatiable why ? as naturally as new-hatched 
 chickens twitter. And these inquirers fret, roam, 
 examine, weigh, confront, search, grope. And what 
 next ? They too leave the world — but no, by hea- 
 ven! they do moi always leave the world — as they 
 found it. Then man was born to move, to scrutinise, 
 and to know (if he can) who he is, what he does, 
 and whither he is going ; and if he dies in harness, 
 he dies with honour, and perhaps with profit to his 
 kind. Therefore I do not complain if my nature be 
 inquisitive, as it always was and always will be. 
 
 From that time forward, besides art and litera- 
 ture, I asked myself a hundred questions about poli- 
 tics, philosophy, morals, and religion — all emanations 
 of my own soul, and not reminiscences of books. 
 What had I read — I, who was a soldier at sixteen ? 
 
 My political ideas had already undergone some 
 modification. I no longer felt an urgent desire to 
 slay a tyrant. It may be imagined that the tyranny 
 of Alfieri in his exaggerations had sobered me. But 
 the craving to see my country its own master grew 
 more and more potent within me, just as I increas- 
 ingly felt the outra.ge of our humiliation. The beha- 
 viour of the foreigners in Rome towards the Romans 
 of every class, in society, and more especially at 
 public solemnities, — such as tlie ceremonies in the 
 
PAPAL AEROGAlirCB. 287 
 
 Papal chapel, those of the holy week, &c. ; their 
 superb assurance in overriding, disobeying, and brow- 
 beating the officers and soldiers whose duty it was 
 to maintain order on those occasions, — aroused an 
 indescribable anger in my breast. The English were 
 the most domineering ; and some of them would go 
 so far as to attempt to force a passage through some 
 door protected by the Swiss guards. It sometimes 
 happened, however, that these halberdiers, dressed 
 and armed like those of Griovanni delle Bande Nere,* 
 answered with the sharp edges of their armour and 
 with the butt-ends of their pikes ; and I blessed their 
 hands, praying Heaven to deliver them from those 
 of Cardinal Consalvi. 
 
 The latter was, as is well known, -secretary of 
 state to Pius YII. ; and if in one way he had more 
 progressive ideas than the rest of the sacred col- 
 lege, on the other he wanted to copy the forms and 
 centralisation of the Napoleonic system in the narrow 
 limits of the tiny Papal state ; and this idea — by en- 
 tirely altering the old traditions and usages of the 
 inhabitants, sweeping away ancient charters, which 
 were precious to the government as proofs of an 
 accepted sovereignty — was, in my opinion, the true 
 commencement de la fin of the temporal power. He 
 
 * Giovanni de' Medici, bom in 1498, and thus sumamed from 
 the celebrated "black bands" of Italian mercenaries whom he 
 commanded. 
 
288 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 endeavoured to increase the pubKc funds, whicli had 
 suffered so much imder the past administration. He 
 knew well that it was neither an easy nor a short task 
 to reopen the dried-up sources of this wealth ; and thus 
 it was his particular study to attract foreigners, and 
 induce them to stay in Rome.- — Unfortunately, in 
 default of other trades, Italy, from Florence down- 
 wards, has long practised that of an hotel-keeper ! — 
 So, wheaever a poor Roman official tried to resist 
 the encroachments of a stranger, the latter never 
 failed to exclaim, " I shall go to Cardinal Consalvi." 
 And unluckily his Eminence nearly always decided 
 in favour of the impertinent foreigner, and against 
 the faithful official. Therefore I prayed heaven to 
 save the Swiss from his most eminent hands. 
 
 But if my heai't rebelled against the foreign yoke, 
 my intellect did not reveal any means of breaking 
 it. Even at twenty I ah'eady understood that Aus- 
 trian regiments could not be driven over the Alps 
 by the Carbonari conspirators, and still less by their 
 daggers. The time was still far distant in which 
 the possibility of a solution of this great problem was 
 to flash upon me. Then, on the contrary, the shades 
 of the ViUa Borghese and many other places were 
 the confidants of my melancholy, and sometimes of 
 the tears I shed in secret over our degradation, which 
 I deemed everlasting. 
 
LOVE. 289 
 
 And as -if art, literature, and politics were not 
 enougli to throw my heart and mind into wild 
 confiision, love also intervened. But should any- 
 one ask, "Were you in love?" — "I? not in the 
 least," would be the answer. And this was exactly 
 my torment : to be in love, and not to know with 
 whom. 
 
 In every autobiography love is sure to make its 
 appearance about the age of twenty. It is not a 
 subject to be exhausted in a few words, but requires 
 a separate chapter, and this shall be the fifteenth. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 First love — How many sorts of love there are — Difficulty of 
 understanding them, and still more of naming them, except 
 one — Love in the literature of the reign of Louis Philippe — 
 Little love-making in the world — Silence on my love-adven- 
 tures — Love is the father of lies — Theory of fidelity — Sad end 
 of every love-adventure — Least bad way of getting out of it 
 fairly — Conclusion f avom-able to women — It is useless to preach 
 abstinence. 
 
 All polytheist religions place love among the divi- 
 nities. Cln-istians in a sort of way look upon it as 
 Grod himself and his first essence — so at least we 
 are told. But this said love is the most inexplicable 
 of mysteries. " Vous m''aimez, vous ites roi, et je 
 ■pars" said Olympia Mancini to Louis XIV., when 
 she left the court by order of her uncle Cardinal 
 Mazarin. 
 
 "You love me, you are a god, and I suffer;" 
 the poor human soul says this only too often. But 
 wherefore ? The key of this mystery is not to be 
 found on earth: let us hope to find it in heaven. 
 Mere intellect is an inexperienced and useless guide 
 in such a labyrinth, and abandons us in the midst 
 
WHAT IS LOVE ? 291 
 
 of darkness. Let us rather follow the dictates of 
 the heart. 
 
 Who could conceive with his intellect, or explain 
 in words, that primeval love before which "there 
 were no created things"? One feels Grod, but he 
 cannot be conceived or explained. One feels him 
 to be an infinite love, and the motive power of the 
 universe. One feels him to be a protection, a de- 
 fence. One feels that he is good, and has prepared 
 for us an eternal future, — inexplicable and unfathom- 
 able to mortals, but foU of happiness and rapture, 
 of justice and equity, — worthy, in a word, to be 
 the work of God. Therefore let us take heart, and 
 throw ourselves courageously into that vortex where 
 so many generations have already disappeared. 
 
 If perchance you were to say, " I do not feel this 
 God of yours," I should answer, " I am very sorry, 
 but in truth I know not how to help you." But 
 this love, — the love of God for his creature, and 
 of the latter for its Maker, — if it is the first, is not 
 the only one. Here the problem becomes multi- 
 plied. What is love in the heart of man? Love 
 of himself, of others, of ideas, of things? Which is 
 true love, and which is false? Which is virtuous 
 love, and which is sinful? Which is noble and 
 generous, which is foul and abominable? &c. A 
 hundred such questions might be asked. But every- 
 
292 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 thing is confused, indefinite, and illogical; every- 
 thing is struggle and contradiction in this vast realm 
 of love ; and even language is under its influence. 
 
 What an inconceivable lack of expressions ! what 
 indecision ! In French, for instance, which appears 
 to me the most perfect instrument of communication 
 invented by man, — in that language, the most pre- 
 cise, the neatest, and most logical in existence (I 
 only speak a few, alas ! still I think my assertion 
 is true), — nevertheless, in French there is only one 
 word for the expression of love : " J'aime Dieu, 
 j'aime ma patrie, j'aime ma mere, j'aime ma mai- 
 tresse, j'aime la science, j'aime le vaude\a]le," or 
 "j'aime les epinards au jus," but always "j'aime." 
 
 In Italy, as in England, we are not much better 
 off; but stiU I can put spinage in one category, 
 and my country or my family in another, and say, 
 both in Italian and in English, "I like spinage," 
 and "I love my country;" "Mi piacciono gli spi- 
 naci," and " amo la patria." 
 
 Can this want of precision, this poverty of 
 language, be the result of pure chance? or is it 
 rather a defect which necessarily governed the ori- 
 gin, the formation, and the crystallisation of lan- 
 guages? Is it then an anomaly, an absence of 
 logic, or, on the contrary, the application of its 
 most exquisite sense ? 
 
LOVE AND EGOTISM. 293 
 
 If' the latter hypothesis be correct, language would 
 only possess one substantive, love, and one verb, to 
 love, because love would be one, and its appUcations 
 many, but hitherto badly understood and badly de- 
 fined, whence the uncertainty and obscurity. 
 
 There is, however, one sort of love which is 
 understood, perfectly defined, and known by every- 
 body, for which language has found, if not a verb, 
 at least an adequate substantive, or rather two — 
 self-love and egotism. 
 
 Perhaps it might be said that love for dear self 
 should be stigmatised by the vile name of selfishness, 
 while, on the contrary, love for any object not our- 
 selves has an exclusive right to the beautiful and 
 noble one of love. 
 
 Europe is under great obligations to France ; and 
 since Solferino, Italy in particular owes her an im- 
 mense debt of gratitude. There is no doubt that 
 the dazzling light which, by showing the world its 
 own deformity, made it ashamed, and thus induced it 
 to attempt an amendment, first radiated from France. 
 By her intelligence and her press France achieve^ 
 a real and beneficent victory over the world; but 
 I, who am the friend and not the flatterer of the 
 French, tell them : " You have made Europe pay 
 dearly for your benefits." Who till now ever saw 
 a flood of books written for the express purpose of 
 
294 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 perverting human nature, like that known by the 
 name of the literature of Louis Philippe, and that 
 which followed ? 
 
 These works of imagination — novels especially — 
 (I have seen some very sad instances) have reaUy 
 inoculated Europe with unwholesome humours. 
 With few exceptions, the only object of the writers 
 was to make money, wherefore they coveted 
 popularity, and basely pandered to all the de- 
 praved instincts of the multitude. And as, when 
 these are to be incited, the true and holy de- 
 mocracy of equality before the law is of much 
 less use to him who seeks to become rich and ride 
 in his carriage than that other democracy which 
 tramples — when it can — upon every law, and which 
 is the apotheosis of all that is hideous and foul, — 
 the writers in question, in order to flatter the 
 masses, have in their books proclaimed the triumph 
 of baseness. For a long time, courtesans (I am 
 speaking of no new thing), convicts, murderers, 
 scoundrels of every description, have been held up 
 as the only persons capable of heroic actions, whilst 
 honest men were represented as foolish or impo- 
 tent. And the leading ideas inculcated by such 
 books were, and are, that the distinction between 
 good and evil is a bugbear for idiots; that violent 
 passions are symptoms of a powerful nature, which 
 
FKENCH NOVELS. 295 
 
 is exactly the reverse of truth ; that the infallible 
 sign of absolute moral supremacy is a total absence 
 of respect for anything, whilst it is precisely the 
 contrary. And as to love, that ancient and never 
 worn-out axis on which all narratives destined to 
 please the masses turn, — tell me, dear reader, have 
 you ever found in French novels of this school a 
 chaste and graceful type like the Lucia* of Man- 
 zoni, for instance ; the personification of an honest 
 woman, who is at once natural, attractive, and re- 
 fined ? Sometimes the author (it is easy to per- 
 ceive) would fain present something angelic, some 
 flower of innocence, some being breathing purity 
 and candour — but, good heavens, what an exertion ! 
 what an incessant effort, what an utter miscon- 
 ception of nature and of real simplicity, of smooth 
 and easy deductions flowing spontaneously from the 
 story and the circumstances ! One sees so plainly 
 that the author, wishing to raise himself above his 
 own level, is obliged to walk upon stilts. 
 
 But if we turn to a scene of courtesans at sup- 
 per, — to a description of the luxurious fare, the 
 wines, the plate, the lights, the scantiness of the 
 women's dresses, — what fulness, what truth, what 
 life in the imagery and the details, what an in- 
 
 * The lovely and charming heroine of Manzoni's Promessi 
 Spod, 
 
296 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 spired style, what an outburst of eloquence ! It is 
 quite e-\ddent that the author longs for that which he 
 describes, that he feels in his element, and is anxious 
 to receive the price of his manuscript, that he may 
 seat himself at the same table, and perhaps roll 
 underneath it. 
 
 This Hterature is one of the causes of the very re- 
 markable fall which — as everyone knows — has taken 
 place in the moral thermometer of the reading 
 world in Europe. From the high-born damsel who 
 reads in secret, down to the humble girl who, to read 
 novels, defrauds herself of the few hours' rest allowed 
 her by the milliner for whom she works— what dis- 
 order, what deceit, how much irreparable mischief! 
 And all this for what ? Let us go to the core of 
 the question. Because Mr. So-and-so, the author, 
 wanted to have six horses in his stable, and aU the 
 rest of it ; and because he knew that the public, the 
 king of our time, like many other kings of yore, 
 liberally rewards those who flatter his depraved in- 
 stincts, and, better still, those who serve him in 
 this respect. 
 
 Now at last, after so many words, we must 
 arrive at a conclusion. 
 
 Love plays a much less important part in the 
 world than is generally supposed. It is most often 
 the child of idleness, and is an artificial product of 
 
EAEITY OF LOYE. 297 
 
 literature. And French literature has made it a 
 disgraceful object of speculation. 
 
 These ideas are, as usual, the fruit of my own 
 observations, reasoned out by myself. I do not, 
 however, consider them infalUble. I know not what 
 the reader wiU think of them. He may very likely 
 say, " AU very well ; but there are people who cannot 
 read or write, who work hke horses from mornmg to 
 night, and yet they fall in love." This is my answer : 
 
 First of all, among so many passions there are 
 no two of exactly the same essence ; and it would 
 be necessary to make a chemical analysis, in order 
 to test the real value of each. We are agreed, as 
 you know, that in speaking of the rarity of love I 
 mean to specify that which deems the advantage 
 of the beloved one preferable to its own; otherwise, 
 as we saw before, it is no longer love, but selfish- 
 ness. And if all those who faU in love were sub- 
 mitted to a moral filter, do you think the result 
 would be an essence as pure as spring water ? 
 
 Secondly, setting aside analysis and filters, the 
 question is reduced to saying, every rule has its ex- 
 ception, which I admit. I admit it so completely, 
 that, without going further, I offer myself to serve 
 as an exception, and can confirm your observations 
 in my own person. 
 
 In my youth I had read no love-stories. I 
 
298 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 worked, and to such an excess as to make myself 
 ill more than once ; yet I had so impressionable, 
 so passionate a nature, that it would be impos- 
 sible for me to express the violence of the storms 
 of this kind I have had to go through. Dieu merei, 
 c'estfini! quoth Richelieu. 
 
 This might appear to be the moment for enter- 
 ing on a narration of my love-adventures, which I 
 might afterwards take up whenever their turn came. 
 But I intend to do nothing of the kind, and for 
 the following reasons : 
 
 In the first place, only change the names, and 
 essentially this particular is always the same. Se- 
 condly, while reading the autobiographies of others, 
 and the descriptions of their conquests, the authors 
 have constantly seemed to me rather ridiculous. 
 Then, all those who become lacrymose in record- 
 ing the havoc they have made in female hearts ; 
 those who, for instance, just meet a woman in a 
 shop trying on a pair of gloves, and because she 
 pays them enough attention to avoid having her 
 dress trodden on, note her down forthwith on the 
 list of conquests; and, finally, those who scatter 
 flowers on the grave of some dear angel who died 
 of love (or dyspepsia) for their sakes, — all these 
 gushings of an inconsolable heart, poured out into 
 the vast bosom of the pubHc, invariably appear to 
 
. TRUE AFFECTION. 299 
 
 me one of the drollest masquerades assumed by 
 human vanity. To relate victories, therefore, is 
 ridiculous ; while as to defeats, franldy, dear reader, 
 do not you think it possible to find a livelier sub- 
 ject ? Thus it is better to be silent on both. 
 
 These are the reasons of self-interest ; the follow- 
 ing plead on behalf of social propriety and real 
 feeling. 
 
 A true, loyal, and self-sacrificing afiection is a 
 great treasure — the greatest in existence. If there 
 was a woman who gave you every possible proof 
 of it, ought you ia return to expose her love to 
 pubhcity? Names, I know, are never published; 
 but can anyone who has had a large acquaintance 
 veil the incidents and the dififerent periods of his 
 own life to such an extent as to prevent the real 
 names being easily discovered ? 
 
 I have always considered ingratitude as one of 
 the most ignoble depravities of the human soul. But 
 ingratitude towards a woman who has loved you 
 truly and loyally, were it only for one single hour, 
 has always seemed to me the lowest form of the 
 sin. What more could she do, poor thing ? What 
 good, what happiness was there in her power to 
 bestow, that she did not give you with her love? 
 What did she not risk? what did she not confide 
 to your loyalty and love ? And ought you to trample 
 
300 MY RECOLLECTIONS. , 
 
 all that tinder foot ? Ought you to betray her trust, 
 and make her a subject of common talk, to gratify 
 the most stupid of vanities ? 
 
 As it is very rare for a man, hovsrever unat- 
 tractive, not to have met v?ith love of one calibre 
 or another, the best rule for everybody is not to 
 say, and still less to vn:ite, anything about it. 
 
 It is undeniable that some good might be derived 
 from the narration of such adventures by reasoning 
 on them, and thus discovering some compass for the 
 use of those poor frail barks which set sail for the 
 first time, full of hope and illusions, on that sea 
 which may be termed with peculiar force the faith- 
 less element. 
 
 Wishing, for my own part, to run with the hare 
 and hunt with the hounds, as the adage has it, I 
 shall confine myself to an exposition of general 
 facts, and the reflections they suggest. 
 
 Tlae greatest harm of love, as it often exists in 
 the reading world, springs from the necessity of per- 
 petual falsehood. It very rarely happens that one 
 can make love without being obliged to deceive every 
 moment. Thence a habit of dissimulation is acquired. 
 The character becomes distorted, and it soon ceases 
 to produce any disagreeable impression ; just as those 
 who have no ear for music get accustomed to false 
 notes. 
 
BASE LOVE. 301 
 
 I was never guilty of the lie — worse than lie, 
 the perfidy — of a cold and calculating love. I have 
 never told or tried to persuade a woman that I loved 
 her when it was not true. Unfortunately it is by no 
 means uncommon for a man to see a young woman 
 contented and happy with her husband, fond of her 
 family and home, without mysteries or cares, with 
 good spirits and a hght heart, and to fix his mind 
 on her, taking it into his head to make this pleasant 
 garden of domestic happiness his prey, and render its 
 inhabitants miserable, for the sake of boasting after- 
 wai'ds, " I succeeded!" There are men who, with- 
 out feehng any love, without a shadow of passion, 
 set to work with perpetual dissimulation, representing 
 themselves to the poor victim as models of delicacy 
 united to invincible love. Woman is usually good, 
 confiding, ignorant of human baseness. She beUeves, 
 she yields ; and the happiness, the peace, the future 
 of many persons are often forfeited for ever; and 
 the authors of such disasters generally find the door 
 of every house open to them, whilst those who rob on 
 the highway are hanged ! And this is called justice ! 
 
 On this score I have no remorse. Whenever 
 it was my fate to pronounce those fatal words, " I 
 love you," and to utter them in earnest and not 
 lightly, it was but too true. 
 
 In early youth I was neither more nor less than 
 
302 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 a scamp, and I only associated with female specimens 
 of the same genus, among whom the word ' love' was 
 not current coin. A little later, I went through a 
 very bad phase — which, however, did not last long — 
 when I carried on two or tliree intrigues at the same 
 time, more from recklessness than anything else. But 
 the day at last came when I really fell in love with 
 unutterable violence. This lasted for many years. 
 In the mean while life and experience were maturing 
 me. Dissimulation and falsehood became every day 
 more hateful to me. I attempted to limit myself 
 with regard to falsehood, as families sometimes do 
 in their household expenses, to the strictly neces- 
 sary ; and I was thus led into adopting a maxim not 
 often observed by young men — of telling the truth 
 and keeping a promise, no matter to whom — even 
 to women ! 
 
 I therefore believe I am one of those who have 
 been most scrupulously faithful, chiefly because I 
 should never have been able to deny an infidelity 
 if I had been questioned and driven to bay. Thus I 
 was more veracious than faithftd. I used, in fact, 
 to say, " In love constancy is a necessary, fidelity 
 a luxury ;" and this was said half in jest and half 
 in earnest. And as it is possible to hate many peo- 
 ple at once, why should one not love them also in 
 the same way ? Not in an equal degree certainly, 
 
PANEGYRIC ON INFIDELITY. 303 
 
 but according to a graduated scale ? Constancy, the 
 essence of every true passion, is rooted in our hearts ; 
 but might not fidehty in detail be counted, perchance, 
 among the sophisms of literature ? 
 
 I know some of my fair readers, if I were at 
 hand, would gladly tear my eyes out for these lax 
 doctrines. The cm-ious fact, however, remains, that 
 in spite of these peculiar theories on infidelity, in 
 practice I was entirely the reverse. But this, I 
 repeat, was more a repugnance to falsehood than 
 anjrthing else. 
 
 For the same motive, I never pushed deceit so 
 far as to seem the friend of a husband in order to 
 lay his vigilance asleep. I always considered this, 
 as it is in fact, a low and dastardly action. This 
 is one great evil engendered by such love; the cha- 
 racter acquires indehble blots, which remain even 
 when their cause is over. As love has a begin- 
 ning, it also, -unhappily or happily, as the case may 
 be, has an end. This end, however, is never reached 
 by two lovers on the same day and at the same 
 hour. While one of the parties says, enough, the other 
 says, not yet. Only once I had to recite the part of 
 enough, and thought the easiest way was to confess 
 it; which I did by way of economising lies, as well 
 as, in truth, economising useless scenes, reproaches, 
 and lamentations. For though we are told that cer- 
 
304 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 tain men have risen from the dead, I never heard 
 of love being resuscitated, least of all by means of 
 tears. 
 
 If I once said enough, on two other occasions I' 
 had the more painful task of saying not yet ; and my 
 suffering was so great that, wishing to avoid recri- 
 minations and lamentations, I had to sustain a great 
 internal struggle : 
 
 " Le bruit est pour le fat, 
 
 La plainte est pour le sot, 
 L'honnSte homme trompfe 
 S'61oigne et ne dit mot." 
 
 and this was the system I adopted. 
 
 I might prolong this chapter, — for matter would 
 not be wanting, — but I think I have said enough 
 to show what my character is in this respect. In 
 writing my life it was necessary to speak of it, " 
 
 The conclusion to be drawn is the affair of the 
 reader. All the evidence against me is in his hands. 
 As to the reflections which may arise from the above 
 facts, and which may perhaps be useful to youth (as 
 far as precepts and sermons are available against pas- 
 sion), the following are those which seem to me most 
 obvious. Illicit passions, besides the intrinsic evils 
 inherent to them, are a soui-ce of trouble, sorrow, 
 and even of real misfortune, in the present organisa- 
 tion of society. Holding aloof from them, if possible, 
 is therefore all gain. If that cannot be, there are 
 
MY SINCEKITY OF HEAET. 305 
 
 two things, at least, not to be lost sight of — to do the 
 least possible harm to others as well as to oneself. 
 To oneself, by resisting the invasion of lies converted 
 into a habit and a system ; to others, by never feign- 
 ing a passion that does not exist, and by never sacri- 
 ficing to personal vanity the peace, welfare, and hap- 
 piness of the being who has had the misfortmie to 
 come across your path. 
 
 I certainly do not lay dovm these ideas as the 
 expression of a complete and perfect moral theory ; 
 but I think them practical, and therefore useful. 
 
 To explain my opinion of myself, I must say 
 - that, unless I am greatly mistaken, I do not believe 
 I was the cause of much harm to others ; but I cer- 
 tainly greatly injured myself. I was obliged to work 
 very hard before I could restore to my character the 
 rectitude, sincerity, and purity I had received firom 
 nature. The sincerity, the genuineness of my feel- 
 ings, have made me suffer so much that I certainly 
 have left by the way a considerable portion of vitality 
 and health which I might have employed much better 
 in the service of my country. Reflecting on the 
 past, it seems to me as if my sincerity of heart and 
 complete abnegation of self were often the cause 
 of my becoming odious ; and, unfortunately, I ended 
 by suspecting that very few women can love an hon- 
 est man truly and for a length of time. Perhaps 
 
 VOL. I. X 
 
306 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 the fault is more that of the honest man than theirs ! 
 In spite of all this, the impression I have retained 
 from what I have felt and seen is, that, as a general 
 rule, women are much better than men. And, how- 
 ever great the suffering I have had to endure on their 
 account, I once found the compensation of an affec- 
 tion which never failed me, and which was never 
 influenced by any circumstance whatever. Let him 
 who can say as much be content. Not many can. 
 
 And with this I end the chapter. I entertain no 
 illusions about the conversions which ought to be the 
 reward of my wise reflections. In everything, and 
 especially in love, who is not desirous of trying for 
 himself? 
 
 Try, then, for yourselves, young men ; and fifty 
 years hence you will be able to preach to the next 
 generation, just as I have to you, and perhaps with 
 the same result. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Return from Rome to Turin — Francis IV. of Modena — Excur- 
 sion to Venice — State of Turinese society in the year 1820 — I 
 have always avoided secret societies ; and the advantages I 
 have derived from so doing — Remarks upon the political 
 events of 1821 in Piedmont — Military revolutions are the 
 worst of all — Passive resistance to bad governments generally 
 preferable to violence — Examples taken from the Lombardo- 
 Venetians — Conclusion of this subject — Summer of 1820, and 
 Count BeneveUo — Tribute to this worthy nobleman — Difficulty 
 of living in peace in the society of Turin at that time — I per- 
 sist in my intention of leaving the army, and going back to 
 Rome to continue my artistic studies — My parents consent, 
 after much hesitation — Criticisms and gossip of the town — 
 Dialogue giving an idea of high Turinese society in 1820. 
 
 In the spring of 1820 my parents left Rome, and I 
 returned with them to Turin. Our road lay through 
 Umbria and Tuscany; from Florence we went to 
 Bologna, and thence reached Modena. We stopped 
 at this latter place, as my father had to pay his 
 respects to the Duke, who had not yet earned the 
 celebrity as a crowned police-officer (I might use a 
 less polite expression) which he afterwards enjoyed. 
 Still, he was an archduke of Austria, who, under the 
 name of the House of Este, tried to insinuate him- 
 self into favour. He was always a supporter of that 
 
308 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 evil-minded race which oppressed my country. For- 
 tunately I had no uniform with me. I have always 
 forgotten it intentionally, as a proximate cause of 
 many torments. I adduced this peremptory reason to 
 my father, who accepted it as such ; but the Duke, 
 wishing to be amiable, sent me word that I might 
 go as I was. I was thus obliged to undergo the 
 diversion of an audience. If this was a bore to me, 
 the Duke meant it as a great favour ; and therefore, 
 though he had been Francis IV. himself, there was 
 nothing for it but to decline his civility, or acknow- 
 ledge it here, which I accordingly do. 
 
 From Modena we went to Venice by Mantua, 
 Verona, and Padua. At Verona I saw Pindemonte. 
 At Venice I saw two Austrian cannon with yawn- 
 ing muzzles planted before the ducal palace ; I saw 
 others 
 
 " . . . . neir arzan^ de' Viniziani," 
 
 as Dante calls it, in which 
 
 " bolle d' invemo la tenace pece." 
 
 " In the Venetians' arsenal, as boils 
 Through wintry months tenacious pitch ;" 
 
 and the blood boiled still more in my veins when I 
 beheld those great docks once used for the consti'uc- 
 
 tion of ancient galleys, remembering But 
 
 I am no longer a schoolboy, nor am I writing a 
 rhetorical theme ; so, dear reader, if you are an 
 
PATRIOTIC YEARNINGS. 309 
 
 Italian, and know our history, you can imagine 
 what my feehngs were at one-and-twenty, loviilg 
 Italy as I do, and hating the foreign yoke. 0, how 
 ashamed I was of being an Italian ! how I yearned 
 to have one day an opportunity of fighting the Aus- 
 trians ! I would have consented to be beaten, pro- 
 vided I could have had a good fight ! But in May 
 1820 how probable this seemed ! I lived in a state 
 of wUd despondency, to which I gave vent in son- 
 nets and odes ; — compositions so vile that I think 
 they would have made even the Austrians run away 
 had they but heard them. 
 
 One idea, however, consoled me : Venice, Eome, 
 Carthage have been great, powerful, and as arro- 
 gant as Vienna; and a day of doom will come for 
 Vienna, as it came for them. Who could then have 
 prophesied to me that my eyes would behold it 
 before closing for ever ? 
 
 We passed through Milan, and this time I did 
 not make my entrance " cum fustibus et lanternis" 
 — taken to Santa Margherita* for want of a passport. 
 
 * The Contrada di Santa Margherita— in reality the Pater- 
 noster-row of Milan, being full of booksellers' shops — since 1815, 
 under Austrian rule, became the tenor of every one involved in 
 political disturbances ; for there sat the dreaded diremone di 
 ■polwhOb, where SCvio Pellico and many other illustrious patriots 
 were kept in dark cells during the early days of their celebrated 
 imprisonment. The name was derived from the building having 
 been a convent of nuns before the religious communities were 
 
310 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 I remember a trifling incident, whicli, however, made 
 ah impression upon me at the time. A great many 
 people came to see us at our hotel, and amongst 
 others a monsignore ; but I cannot now remember 
 who he was. Talking of diiFerent subjects, the con- 
 versation fell on public education. After a good 
 deal of discussion, " I think," said the monsignore, 
 by way of peroration, " that ignorant peoples are the 
 easiest to govern." I was not so much surprised 
 at the maxim as at the candour with which it was 
 stated; and I thought to myself (I had just come 
 from Rome), " My good monsignore, you will never 
 make your fortune if you are so outspoken." I do 
 not know even if my prediction was fulfilled. 
 
 Society in Turin was in that peculiar state of 
 restlessness which a sick man feels on the point of 
 an eruption. The year 1821, or rather the famous 
 Spanish constitution,* was on the very eve of coming 
 to light. 
 
 abolished by Joseph II. ; and poor Silvio Pellico remarka in his 
 book Le mie Prigioni, that its former harmless inmates little 
 guessed that their once peaceful walls would one day resound 
 with so many imprecations against a hated rule. It is still the 
 central police-station, but has now lost its sinister renown. 
 
 * The military insurrection of Piedmont in 1821, led by 
 Charles Albert, then Prince of Carignano, and a great number of 
 Piedmontese nobles, to which the author makes frequent allusion 
 in these Memoirs, had for its object to obtain the proclamation of 
 the Spanish constitution passed by the Junta of Cadiz in 1812, 
 
PLEASTJEES OF SECEET'SOCIETIES. 311 
 
 I was a relation, or at least an acquaintance, of 
 the greater part of the leaders, and many of them 
 frequented the house of my sister-in-law. I did not 
 belong to any secret society. I was not a Carbonaro, 
 nor one of those Masons designated /»'ee — I do not 
 know why, unless because they are bound to obey 
 two governments instead of one. I suppose my 
 countenance inspired no confidence in me as a con- 
 spirator, partisan, or such-like : but the fact is, that 
 I never was even invited to join a secret society, and 
 thus have never been a member of any. I do not 
 venture to say that precocity of judgment made me 
 abstain, for at eighteen or twenty chance is oftener 
 our guide than forethought. Be that as it may, 
 I certainly enjoyed the advantage of never feeling 
 afraid that my name might be found on any hst of 
 conspirators, or of having it flung in my teeth as 
 documentary proof of having betrayed friends or 
 violated a pledge; nor that when I was in office 
 someone might come and whisper in my ear, 
 " Now, Signor Massimo, just remember ! . . . . 
 Mind you keep in the right track," and thus find 
 
 treacherously overthrown by Ferdinand VII. on his return, and 
 then again revived for a short time in 1820, under pressure of a 
 revolt of the army. The Piedmontese liberals wished to adopt 
 this constitution ; but Austrian intervention soon frustrated their 
 attempts. 
 
312 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 myself in a dilemma, constrained either to break 
 tlie oath sworn to the King as member of parha- 
 ment, cabinet minister, senator, and governor; or 
 the other sworn to a president of a Carbonaro lodge ; 
 and third and last advantage, governments, political 
 sects, parties, or anybody else, may like or dislike 
 me, leave me in peace, persecute, or even kill me, if 
 they please, but I defy them aU to call me a weather- 
 cock or a traitor. 
 
 Being then, as I have always kept myself since, 
 free to act as I chose, and perfectly independent, I 
 quietly watched to see what such a state of con- 
 fusion as I have described would produce. 
 
 The events of 1821 are known, or perhaps now 
 almost forgotten ; so many things of greater im- 
 portance have happened in the world since that 
 date. Still, I must make a few remarks wliich occur 
 to me on the subject. 
 
 However great the esteem and friendship I pro- 
 fess for several of the leaders of that movement, I 
 must honestly say that I cannot approve either its 
 spirit or its form. 
 
 A people does not rise unless to attain something 
 which it knows, or at least desires. Therefore, before 
 engaging in action, it is necessary to instruct the 
 masses, or at any rate to excite their wishes and 
 their passions. 
 
AN IMMATURE REVOLUTION. 313 
 
 The prodigality of Louis XIV. and his succes- 
 sors, the feudal privileges of the clergy and aristo- 
 cracy, and the writings of the philosophers of the 
 eighteenth century, whose path was so carefully 
 smoothed hy the blundering tyranny of the old poli- 
 tical and religious system, instructed the people, 
 kindled a craving for better institutions, and the 
 French Revolution triumphed ! But in the Italy 
 of 1821 the recollections of the military arrogance, 
 the Continental blockade, the violent annexations 
 or dislocations of provinces and kingdoms, which 
 were directly due to the^ ambition of Napoleon, 
 and indirectly to the ideas and acts of the first 
 revolution, were still too fresh; five or six years 
 of restoration had not yet been able to efface 
 them; and the majority therefore, which by a law 
 of nature is always composed of the less sagacious, 
 considered the restoration as the return of a new 
 era of life, repose, happiness, and deliverance from 
 a heavy and detested tyranny. 
 
 But the majority did not yet understand that in 
 the Napoleonic cycle tyramiy was the exception; 
 whereas in that of the restoration absolutism was 
 the rule. 
 
 The masses were then far from desirous of a 
 change. The felicity the revolution wa^ bestowing 
 on Spain did not yet awaken much envy. Conse- 
 
314 MT EECOIiLECTIONS. 
 
 quently the rising was only an isolated outbreak of 
 the secret societies, which did not and could not 
 extend itself to the rest of the nation, because the 
 ideas which inspired it were not appreciated, or 
 announced changes which were undesired. 
 
 This affords a fresh example of the good service 
 done by secret societies ; they present a phantasma- 
 goria of a world which does not exist, and thus 
 entangle you among impossibilities. Let us not, 
 however, forget that secret societies were in great 
 measure the offspring of the stolid and blind abso- 
 lutism of the restoration, so that the latter was their 
 true originator. 
 
 Oesare Balbo used to say that that movement 
 and its prototype at Naples postponed our emanci- 
 pation for many years ; and he was right. 
 
 There is, besides, another important considera- 
 tion. The movement of 1821 had the character of 
 a mihtary insurrection, which is the worst of all — 
 the most depraving, the most prolific of bad exam- 
 ples, and consequences without end. If I neither 
 esteem nor love a government, I do not serve it ; if 
 I have entered its service at a period when I loved 
 and esteemed it, and if, right or wrong, I after- 
 wards alter my views, then I resign. But to violate 
 a given promise — never ! I hasten, however, to add 
 that it would be unjust to pass a dogmatic judgment 
 
ARTIFICIAL CONSCIENCE. 315 
 
 on the merit or guilt of certain actions in cases of 
 this kind a priori. 
 
 The true fault is to sin against conscience know- 
 ingly; and the Eoman Court has not a monopoly 
 of the artificial conscience, which, as you perhaps 
 know, I have attributed to it. The sects hostile to 
 Rome have it likewise, being supplied with it both 
 by passion and the individuals themselves. 
 
 Which of us can boast of never having had an 
 artificial conscience, if only for one day ? Therefore, 
 while I severely censure a military revolution, I am 
 far from judging those who incurred the guilt of it 
 with equal harshness. Hallucinations of the bodily 
 senses being quite as real a phenomenon as halluci- 
 nations of the moral sense, in pronouncing judgment 
 great stress ought to be laid on this element. 
 
 One last consideration. For several years after 
 1821 no other mode of improving our condition was 
 devised than secret societies, with their periodical 
 miniature revolutions, which lasted a fortnight. Un- 
 til 1844 or 1845, no one ever thought of taking 
 public opinion as a basis, and making himself its 
 guide. The authoritative voice of Napoleon III. had 
 not yet taught sectarians that the world is moved by 
 public society, and not by secret ones. And we see 
 that his system succeeds. But political brotherhoods 
 will not be abolished for the present, because there 
 
316 MY EECOLLECTTONS. 
 
 are adepts interested in keeping them up. Persuade 
 a man, if you can, tliat it is a good thing he should 
 lose his employment ! AH this applies to violent re- 
 volutions, for which, as you may see, I have no sym- 
 pathy. 1 have, on the contrary, always admired the 
 triumph of rights long trampled upon, when won by 
 passive resistance ; and these conquests, which may 
 be called the true revolutions, have always appeared 
 to me the most meritorious, manly, and durable. 
 
 The spread of Christianity was certainly one of 
 the grandest revolutions on record. It succeeded in 
 establishing, for the first time, the rights of man as 
 such, not merely as a citizen ; before God, the hum- 
 blest slave and the emperor became equals. This 
 idea has changed the world. And how was this re- 
 volution accomplished? By learning how to suffer 
 and die. 
 
 On a smaller scale, the attitude of the Quakers 
 in England, at the time when the intolerance of the 
 Anglican Church persecuted every dissenting com- 
 munity, was equally remarkable. Sooner than take 
 an oath which they considered a crime — and if the 
 Grospel says nolite jurare omnino, it would appear 
 that as Christians they were not quite so wrong — 
 they preferred to go into exile or be imprisoned; 
 and at one moment more than fifteen thousand of 
 them were in captivity. They chose to suffer like 
 
PASSIVE ENDURANCE. 317 
 
 Christ and the first martyrs, and, like them, were at 
 last victorious. 
 
 Passive resistance does not offer the animated, 
 dazzling, and impassioned adventures of revolution- 
 ary aggressions. It will therefore never be preferred 
 by the younger members of a community, especially 
 among our Southern races, because it requires an 
 inflexible temperament, and presupposes a character 
 over which imagination has Kttle or no influence. 
 But if the truth were spoken, is it more difiicult to 
 storm a redoubt or a barricade, facing bullets and 
 bayonets amidst the shouts, the smoke, and the ex- 
 citing clash of arms, and soon to find one is either 
 unscathed inside or lying woimded at the foot of the 
 waU; or to spend ten, five, two, or even one year 
 only in a dungeon, where the soul languishes in the 
 hopelessness of silence, solitude, and cruel abandon- 
 ment, and the body withers for want of the air, 
 exercise, and food made necessary by long habit — 
 where the isolation is so complete that a sparrow, a 
 blade of grass, a spider have become such precious 
 treasures to the poor prisoner, that it was considered 
 an unheard-of ferocity to deprive him of them ? 
 
 Italy has offered noble instances of that endur- 
 ance of long and obscure suffering which I said was 
 rare among Southerners. The dungeons of Spiel- 
 berg know it; and it is attested with gratitude. 
 
318 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 honour, and reverence by every high-hearted man 
 among us. But everybody can see what a difference 
 there is between a penalty inflicted for an attack on 
 a government, however illegal and tyrannical it may 
 be, and that which strikes him whose hand was not 
 raised in menace — whose only crime was a refusal to 
 renounce a positive right, or to become an accomplice 
 in violating it. 
 
 In the former case, there are always persons who 
 accuse the aggressor of imprudence and rashness ; 
 at least, there is also a feeling in the human heart 
 •ft^hich prevents it from entirely condemning even 
 a bad government, when it defends itself against 
 attack. But in the latter, interest, pity, honour, are 
 all on the side of the victim ; hatred, indignation, 
 infamy, aU on that of the executioner. 
 
 What was, in fact, the old policy of our fathers ? 
 Not to make martyrs. This is a proof that a martyr 
 injures an unjust government more than a rebel. 
 
 Right is really made immortal, not by active but 
 by passive strength. One of the most singular and 
 marvellous illustrations of this truth is ofiered by the 
 Jews. They have now obtained almost everywhere 
 the recognition of the rights which had been denied 
 them from the days of Titus downwards.* For 
 
 * Massimo d'Azeglio was one of the first to advocate the 
 emancipation of the Jews. 
 
LOMBARDS AND VENETIANS. 319 
 
 eighteen centuries, two or three hundred millions of 
 Christians and about a hundred and sixty millions 
 of Mahometans were ranged on one side ; on the 
 other five millions of Jews. Everybody knows what 
 animosity was employed to exterminate, trample . 
 down, and stifle every offshoot of the indomitable 
 seed of Jacob. Who won at last? The five tri- 
 umphed over the four hundred and sixty millions ! 
 The Milanese and the Lombards have on several oc- 
 casions nobly exercised passive resistance. The poor 
 Venetians, alas ! are stiU in the act of practising it. 
 Let them be encouraged, however, by the thought of 
 its undeniable efficacy, and be assured that victory 
 wiU be theirs in the end. History will not set less 
 store by their present patient endurance than by the 
 splendid valour which earned them immortal glory 
 during the siege of 1849. If their sufferings be 
 long, their crown wiU be doubly precious. 
 
 To sum up the foregoing : if in 1821, instead of 
 that blind association of Carbonari, which only suc- 
 ceeded in kindling a short civil strife, soon stifled at 
 Novara by an Austrian army, the task of conquering 
 public opinion by every means of pubKcity then pos- 
 sible had been undertaken, that change which took 
 place four-and-twenty years later — that unanimous 
 onward movement begun in 1845, and obtained solely 
 by the conspiracy of public opinion in broad day- 
 
320 MY EBCOLLECTIONS. 
 
 light — might perhaps have been produced before, 
 and led to a more speedy and satisfactory result. 
 
 But I stop in the boundless field of hypothesis. 
 If there may be some use in establishing certain 
 principles, there is nothing more futile and fallacious 
 than speculation as to what might have happened if 
 such and such a thing had taken place. 
 
 All great revolutions, all great political and social 
 changes, come to pass of necessity; they spring from 
 a concourse of causes which no human intellect can 
 embrace or govern ; and while writers wear them- 
 selves out in giving advice and directions, the" poor 
 human race, writhing like a sick man in convulsions, 
 makes a thousand wild and extravagant efforts which 
 Providence knows how to direct, so that tranquilhiy 
 and a healthy transformation are at length their \m- 
 expected results. 
 
 Revolutions are not the work of man, but of God; 
 and the means by which they succeed is sufficient 
 proof of this. In our own, for instance, it is plam 
 that He did not choose to let us even dream it was 
 our own work. 
 
 I spent the greater part of the summer of 1820 
 in the country, continuing my studies from nature. 
 Count Benevello, with whom I was staying, either 
 at Saluzzo or at his castle of Eivalta, was also pas- 
 sionately fond of art. FuU of imagination, with an 
 
AS OLD FRIEND. 321 
 
 exquisite taste for colouring, his braiu teeming with 
 new and often eccentric ideas, an insatiable spirit of 
 curiosity, which made him venture into every branch 
 of human science, possessing therefore a knowledge 
 more varied than profound, always frank, simple, and 
 amiable in every-day life, I remember him' as one of 
 my best and dearest friends. He drew and painted 
 both figui'es and landscape, effects of night, of va- 
 pours or mists. I do not pretend that his skill was 
 very great ; but he had much natural talent. In his, 
 or I might say in our generation, almost every one 
 endeavoured to do something. We all felt a thirst 
 for action — a craving to find some way of distin- 
 guishing ourselves, communicated to us by that 
 powerful and aU-pervading electric spark which the 
 indefatigable activity of Napoleon had imparted to 
 his epoch. Balbo, Peyron, Plana, Bidone, Sauli, 
 Sclopis, Provana, Collegno, "Vidua, Santarosa, who 
 all more or less brilliantly distinguished themselves, 
 then flourished in Piedmont. His taste for art, and 
 his wish to acquire knowledge himself and promote 
 it in others, entitle Benevello to a place among them. 
 His house was open to the votaries of every branch 
 of science and erudition. The first yearly picture- 
 exhibitions at Turin were held in a gallery which 
 he had built on purpose in his own house, and of 
 which he freely gave the use to the public. He 
 VOL. I. T 
 
322 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 contrived some studios for painters at the top of his 
 house. It was an unheard-of thing for the proprietor 
 of a house to arrange his garrets so that there should 
 be sufficient light and space to paint a picture in 
 them. Moreover, Benevello took great interest in 
 his lodgers, as in all yoraig men who entered on the 
 long and thorny via cruds of art. He was one of 
 the first in Turin to perceive the difference between 
 an artist and an artisan, and to open his doors to 
 the unpolished followers of the Muses. They were 
 rude, certainly ; but why ? Because nobody had ever 
 deigned to admit them into the sphere where a man 
 becomes polished by learning from others and en- 
 larging the limits of his own horizon. 
 
 Count Benevello was thus the promoter of much 
 that was good in his country. Society, which was 
 then stiff and formal, and, as I have already said, 
 hostile to every innovation, laughed at him because 
 he had sometimes ideas on art, architecture, and lite- 
 rature which afforded ample grounds for ridicule. 
 But it is only those that do nothing who never make 
 mistakes, nor lay themselves open to criticism and 
 laughter. Such was exactly the condition of the 
 majority of those who made jokes at the expense of 
 my excellent friend, who was besides a worthy citi- 
 zen, a good master, and at once economical and very 
 generous, — two qualities which it is difficult to unite. 
 
A LABOEIOUS LIFE. 323 
 
 He was kind and hospitable, and never spent an 
 hour of his life in that idleness which is eupheuis- 
 tieallj called liviriff like a gentleman. He worked at 
 all things at once ; and this was the real defect of 
 his nature. On an altar-piece, for instance; while 
 in the next room he had some chemical experiment 
 going on ; on a table in a corner there lay a manu- 
 script of a novel or a comedy, or the plans for 
 the erection of a church ; a little further, the skele- 
 ton of a machine intended to test the power of a 
 new propeller engine of his invention, &c. The 
 reader wlU ask me if any useful result has been 
 derived from aU these trials, inventions, and experi- 
 ments ? I answer directly — In point of art and 
 science, little or nothing. But in a social point of 
 view, and to the upper classes in particular, he left 
 a legacy of valuable lessons. He was very rich ; 
 yet he himself Hved with a simplicity truly singular. 
 Possessing palaces, castles, and villas, if I asked, 
 as I suddenly invaded his studio, "Where is your 
 room ?" it very often turned out that it was only a 
 bed behind a screen in some passage, or sometimes 
 a lumber-room at the top of the house. He had 
 few wants ; ate anything, did not care for cold, heat, 
 comforts, or luxury ; he dressed anyhow, and slept 
 very little. 
 
 These are the good examples he left behind him. 
 
324 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 and which do honour to his memory. If he finds 
 imitators in his class, he will not have been less 
 useful to society than if he had discovered a new 
 salt or a new metal. 
 
 He had a son, who did not long survive him, 
 and in whom another race of honest men died out.* 
 In his house, however, the traditions of his intelligent 
 and amiable hospitality are not yet lost. 
 
 I too had, by that time, cause to perceive how 
 difficult it was for anyone to live in peace with our 
 Turinese society, who dared to think, speak, or act 
 in any way differing from the received ideas and 
 usages. Heaven forbid that one of us should use 
 his own brains to discover an idea and work it into 
 a syllogism with its major and minor, in order to 
 deduce some new consequence from it, which he 
 might use in case of need ! 
 
 As in some countries a standard measure or 
 scales are set up in the market-place, by which to 
 test the upright dealing of everyone, it might have 
 seemed as if God had only gone to the expense of 
 one set of brains for the whole nobility of Tm'in, 
 
 * Poor Manolo was my sohoolfellow. Like his father, he was 
 full of talent and imagination, and gifted with an excellent 
 he art. He entered the diplomatic service, but died before being 
 sent abroad. I lost in him a true friend ; and I cannot refrain 
 from saying these few words of tribute to his memory. 
 
SOCIAL BRAINS. 325 
 
 and placed it at court in tlie throne-room, where 
 each one might go and supply himself with the 
 ideas he required. 
 
 But not choosing to have recourse to these social 
 brains, I insisted, as I have already said, on think- 
 ing with my own. 
 
 My father and mother, as was natural, warmly 
 applauded the determination I had come to — ^thanks 
 to Bidone — of abandoning my wild life, and trying 
 to do something in earnest. The journey to Eome 
 and my sojourn there — during which my resolution 
 had never in any degree failed me — was its first 
 result. I had studied and worked, and had broken 
 off all acquaintance with doubtful society (this was 
 the time at which I succeeded in resisting the most 
 violent tendencies of a youth of twenty) ; but my 
 father, nevertheless, had not allowed me to quit the 
 army definitively. He was naturally afraid that my 
 artistic fever might prove a fire of straw, and that 
 I should one day find that I had lost my rank in the 
 army without any compensation. 
 
 The moment, however, had come for finally 
 settling the question ; either to return to the ser- 
 vice as a career, or leave it entirely in order to 
 follow that of the studio, and work independently. 
 
 I persisted in my determination. My parents 
 hesitated, thinking that to send me alone, at my age, 
 
326 MT EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 without a guide or any curb, to a city like Rome, 
 and there to cultivate the very art which throws a 
 young man into the most gay, eccentric, and reck- 
 less, and therefore most dangerous, of companion- 
 ships, was like playing double or quits with my 
 morals, my health, and my future. These doubts 
 and fears then quite provoked me. Now I am full of 
 remorse at the ingratitude and injustice of my im- 
 patience; for I understand how natural these sus- 
 picions were in my father and mother, who knew my 
 natm'e, and loved me with such intense tenderness. 
 
 The latter, who had constantly sacriSoed herself 
 to her husband, her children, and her family, was in- 
 clined to let me make the experiment, and my father 
 did not positively refuse, tiU at last, as the autumn 
 advanced, it became necessary to take a resolution, 
 and the matter was decided in the affirmative. 
 
 This step was a proof of the firmness as well 
 as of the good sense of my parents. Now it would 
 not elicit any surprise, but be taken as a matter of 
 course. Then, however, the announcement that " the 
 Chevalier Massimo d'Azeglio had left the crack regi- 
 ment of Royal Piedmont, or the Grrenadier Guards, 
 to go to Rome and become a painter," horrified our 
 aristocratic society; and this one phrase seemed a 
 return to chaos, and an abomination of abominations. 
 
 The shortest and best way of giving an exact idea 
 
A TDEINESE SKETCH. 327 
 
 of an epoch so different from our own, would be to 
 suppose ourselves transported for a moment into one 
 of the circles of our old nobility in the year of grace 
 1820. The worst is, that if I write down the conver- 
 sation in Italian, aU couleur locale and interest will be 
 lost. It must be written in the Piedmontese dialect, 
 which wUl not be understood by everybody. Well, 
 those who like can have it translated, and those who 
 do not vsrill not lose much. I am bound, moreover, 
 to warn the reader that he may find the picture I 
 have drawn of a world I knew so well very tiresome, 
 although it is amusing to me. In this case a remedy 
 is easily found — skip it. 
 
 Of course I represent types, not persons; the 
 latter are imaginary. But I wiU begin by making a 
 sketch of the stage upon which my dramatis personcB 
 are to appear. 
 
 Scene.— A. palace in the architectural style of 
 1600, in via * * *. A wide archway for carriages 
 gives access to it through a spacious atrium and 
 roomy courtyard, from which the eye embraces a 
 view of the adjoining houses, with no less than twelve 
 long balconies terminated by twelve &c. &c., the sole 
 kind of publicity then permitted by the goveriiment. 
 No porter, of course ; there are but few now (or if 
 one exists, he often lives in the garret, his only duty 
 being to shut the outer door at 11 at night), so fancy 
 
328 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 if there were any forty-three years ago ! The large 
 stucco staircase, were it complete, ought to be deco- 
 rated with a marble, or at least a stucco balustrade, 
 according to the style of the building. But the 
 worthy ancestor who built the family mansion had 
 been obliged to go to the army, and provide him- 
 self with arms, horses, and all the requisites for a 
 campaign, so that money was wanting to finish the 
 palace ; and the staircase, instead of a nobler deco- 
 ration, had received a wooden banister, which, as it 
 dates from the days of Catinat or Vandome, has now 
 acquired a dark and somewhat greasy polish under 
 the fingers of four or five generations. This said 
 banister has never been renewed, because the succes- 
 sive owners have always reasoned as foUows : having 
 gone on with it very well till to-day, we may do the 
 same to-morrow. 
 
 The great entrance-hall of a Turinese palace, even 
 in 1820, was still such a curious sight, that, withoiit 
 having seen it, no one could conceive what a strange 
 mixture it displayed. And, mind you, I am speaking 
 of a wealthy house, with a grand room decorated with 
 stuccos, and large panels either painted in fi-esco or 
 filled up with rusty old pictures, often riddled by the 
 arrows shot at them by the young gentlemen of the 
 family. A huge old-fashioned piece of furniture, 
 seemingly a chest-of-drawers, but which at night is , 
 
DESCRIPTION 01" THE SCENE. 329 
 
 transformed into a shakedown for the servant who 
 sleeps there, and by day is covered with a fringed 
 green cloth, all in rags and discoloured by innumer- 
 able stains of oil ; a brass lamp (hghted, as I suppose 
 it is time for the company to arrive), which smokes, 
 the long wick requiring to be snufiFed. On a table 
 close by are all the boots of the family, mustered 
 in order, the large shoes of cloth or soft leather of 
 the gouty old uncle, who is a knight of Malta ; ihe 
 hessian boots, armed with spurs, of the captain ; the 
 silver-buckled shoes of the priest of the house; the 
 lighter boots of her ladyship ; and the tiny ones 
 of the young ladies and the children, &c., with the 
 bottle of blacking and the brushes; while the wait 
 is gracefuUy marbled with black from the daily em- 
 ployment of the said implements. A little farther on 
 is Lafleur or Albano, the lackey — an aboriginal from 
 the already-mentioned traditional valley of Lanzo, in 
 the family livery, not made to fit him, knee-breeches, 
 and, alas ! not always spotless stockings — eating his 
 supper on the corner of a small desk. He is on duty 
 in the haU, to answer the bell, and therefore cannot 
 sup in the kitchen with the others. In one corner, 
 but quite visible to the naked eye, are the brooms, 
 the dustpan, and a stand with a copper basin and 
 bucket. On another table — no two are alike — aU the 
 candlesticks of the house are in battle array, with a 
 
330 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 second line of tallow candles and smoky lamps for the 
 servants, &c. ; in a word, all the secret parapher- 
 nalia of the household is exhibited in the ftJl light 
 of publicity. 
 
 From the hall — for the sake of brevity I omit 
 the description of the successive anterooms — we now 
 transport ourselves to the chamber in which the old 
 Marchioness Irene of Crescentino, the lady of the 
 house, sits and receives. She is in indifferent health, 
 and we find her in her bedroom. She is beyond 
 seventy. Her pale face seems almost made of wax. 
 Her features are delicate and lady-like, with a kind 
 but not very intelligent expression. She wears a cap 
 of doubtful fashion, neither old nor new, and a dark 
 gown. A small antique inlaid table is before her ; 
 she is knitting coarse stockings for the poor, by the 
 light of a lamp covered by a shade, leax-ing the 
 whole room in darkness except a circular spot high 
 overhead, which shows the gilding on the stucco 
 ceiling, and another circle below, which illuminates 
 the small table and a bit of the polished floor. 
 Through that semi-transparent shadow, of the tint of 
 a picture by Rembrandt, you half discover a world 
 of vague forms : a bed with a canopy a la duchesse, 
 and heavy silk curtains of flowered damask ; at its 
 head hangs a Virgin Mary by a good master, and 
 underneath the pictm-e a host of images of saints of 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS. 331 
 
 both sexes, " hearts of Jesus," agnus Dei, &c. You 
 might perhaps expect me to name Saint Filomena 
 among this holy population ; but she was still buried 
 in the minds of the reverend Fathers, so could not 
 be there yet. After the saints, at a little distance, 
 figure the portraits of relatives and friends, those of 
 the grandfathers and fathers with powdered ailes de 
 pigeons ; then their successors, in the dress of the Di- 
 rectory, and here and there a few in the Napoleonic 
 uniform. In a circle round the lady of the house 
 are seats and armchairs awaiting the arrival of the 
 visitors, the former almost bearing the characteristic 
 impression of their habitual occupants. General San 
 Eomano, a cousin of the Marchioness — who has not 
 yet been able to discover why Louis XVIII. granted 
 a charter instead of contenting himself with restoring 
 the old parliaments — has already arrived. 
 
 There, too, is Abate Gerando, chaplain to the 
 king. He everywhere descries Jansenists lying in 
 ambush, ready to fall upon a Jesuit; at night he 
 dreams that Nicolle, Arnaud, Quesnel, have been 
 appointed almoners to the court, and that the bull 
 Unigenitus has been withdrawn. 
 
 There is captain the Marquis of Eubiera, for- 
 merly a major in the 18th Dragoons of the Empire, 
 who is a nephew of the mistress of the house, and 
 who has lost one step, like all those who once served 
 
332 MT EECOLLBCTIONS. 
 
 Napoleon. In order to qualify himself to lose this 
 step in Piedmont, he had begun by losing part of his 
 shoulder-blade in Spain, and then leaving two of his 
 fingers behind him in the snows of Lithuania ; and he 
 had never been able to surmise why these two losses 
 should have entailed the third as their inevitable 
 consequence. Forty -three years after, I do not 
 understand it either. 
 
 The Captain is no genius, but he is a man who 
 has seen the world, and has thus learnt something. 
 The conversation has become somewhat languid; 
 only the general and priest, seated near one another, 
 have carried it on in an undertone.* 
 
 GrENERAi. But do you not hear? I tell you 
 again, it is positively true. A congress is about to 
 assemble — they already speak of Troppau — and 
 something will be done. 
 
 Abate. For my part, I only wish they would 
 strike at once. In Spain you see what a pretty pass 
 they have come to; now, too, Naples is rising — 
 and Heaven grant — 
 
 GrENBRAL {glancing slily and ironically at him). 
 
 Why, Don Grerando, you think you already see them 
 
 run riot in the streets of Tm'in, eh ? 
 
 * In the original edition tliis dialogue is published both in 
 the Piedmontese dialect and in Italian. Of course I have omitted 
 the vernacular version, thinking its ieauties would be thrown 
 away on a foreign public. 
 
DIALOGUE. 333 
 
 Abate. G-od forbid ! I do not say that, butr— 
 
 General. Do not be alarmed. This is not Na- 
 ples. No one in this country is thinking of any 
 such nonsense ; they do not even dream of it. 
 
 Marchioness. But, my dear abate, for heaven's 
 sake, are you not yet satisfied ? I am an old woman, 
 and have seen aU the sHdes of the magic lantern; 
 let us sum it up : we ai-e now in the year 1820, 
 the whole thing began in 1789 — -just one-and-thirty 
 years ago — do you not think it ought to be all over 
 by this time ? 
 
 Captain. But, dear aunt, you forget that the 
 people are changed ; if they were stiU the same in- 
 dividuals, then I know well enough that it would 
 be all over. And besides, if any one stirred, he 
 might find it the worse for him. 
 
 It is not impossible that the Captain, what with 
 the loss of his rank, and the whispers of some 
 proselytism, may have acquired a daily increas- 
 ing taint of liberalism. 
 
 Marchioness. Well, you know better than I — 
 I am an old woman, and I never learnt politics. 
 Now everyone seems to be possessed with a mania 
 for grumbling. Be it so ! All I can say is, that 
 I have always thought one lived much better before 
 1789 than now — ever so much. We were all as 
 happy as the pope. 
 
334 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Captain (smiling). I beg your pardon, aunt — 
 that is to say, we nobles were satisfied, of com-se ; 
 but the others ? 
 
 Marchioness. No, my dear Edoardo, no. Be- 
 Heve me {shaking her head and smiling) ; you served 
 mider the other, and were mixed up with the Jaco- 
 bins for so many years Of course they never told 
 you that one fared better before; but I, who was 
 alive at that time and saw with my own eyes what 
 I am telling you — believe me — that the common 
 people, the middle-classes, the peasantry — Ah ! I re- 
 member when poor Crescentino was alive, how often 
 Silverani the lawyer — he who was cashier at St. 
 Paul's — came to dinner, and that poor doctor Ar- 
 aldi ; and then in the country — at Bernasca where 
 we went, all the squires in the neighbourhood used 
 to come; and I never heard a word, not a syllable 
 of complaint from anyone. No, no, believe an old 
 woman like me when she tells you — The fact is, 
 that, since Voltau-e and the other fellows began to 
 turn people's heads, they all grumble and grumble, 
 do nothing but grumble. 
 
 Captain {smiling ironically). Do you mean to 
 say, aunt, that it is the excess of food that makes 
 them grow lean ? 
 
 Marchioness {smiling affectionately). You rogue, 
 how dare you laugh at your old aunt ! 
 
A NEW PERSONAGE. 335 
 
 A Servant (opens the door and announces) The 
 Countess Datis. 
 
 Enter a lady of about fifty, daughter of the Mar- 
 chioness, an ex-ineroyable of the iEmpire ; ru- 
 mours were even current at the time of some 
 French passion in a very high quarter. A 
 woman with remains of great beauty, and of a 
 pleasing countenance ; dressed with taste and ele- 
 gance ; easy manners, clever expression. She goes 
 straight to her mother ; they embrace each other. 
 
 Marchioness. How do you do, ffiwa? (a vein/ 
 fanciful abbreviation of her Christian name, Teresina.) 
 
 Countess. How are you, mother ? General ? 
 Abate ? Good-evening, Edoardo ; I thought you were 
 on service with the Prince (King Charles Albert, 
 then Prince of Carignano). 
 
 Captain. No ; it is the turn of CoUegno. 
 
 In the mean time tJie Countess has arranged her curls 
 at a looking-glass, has sat down by her mother, 
 and drawn a breath of general satisfaction. 
 
 Countess. Don Gerando, excuse me; just be- 
 hind you — on that chair, look — there is a basket; 
 that is it, thanks. (She takes the basket, unfolds some 
 embroidery, and begins to work.) But now (to her 
 mother), pray tell me how you are. 
 
 Maechioness. Why, to tell the truth, I have 
 not been very flourishing since last evening. In the 
 
336 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 night my pain was more troublesome than usual; 
 and all to-day I have been a good deal exhausted. 
 
 Countess. But is it true, dear mother, that you 
 went to St. Philip's to attend the triduum ? 
 
 Marchioness. Of course I did. 
 
 Countess. 0, but, dear mother, I really must 
 scold you. Abate — General — ^please help me. 
 
 Marchioness. But, my dear daughter, how could 
 I miss the triduum for the recovery of that poor Ga- 
 briella Montanera? And how is she to-night? I 
 told the coachman* to go and inquire. Edoardo, 
 do ring the bell {Dirindindin. Enter Alhano). Has 
 Giovanni come back ? 
 
 Albano. No, my lady. 
 
 Marchioness. What a tortoise that fellow is! 
 Have you heard anything, Gina ? 
 
 Countess. Somebody told me she is very much 
 the same : yesterday she was bled for the eleventh 
 time, and Tarellaf had been sent for, to have a con- 
 sultation. I know all this from Costanza d'Azegho, 
 who sat up all night with her. 
 
 Marchioness. Her confessor. Father Mellini, 
 
 * In those patriarchal days the coachman, generally an old 
 family servant, when not wanted in the evening, was sent to 
 deliver notes and messages for his mistress. 
 
 t Signor Tarella was the fashionahle doctor of Turin, and 
 belonged to the school which regarded bleeding as a general 
 panacea. 
 
DOMESTIC PRATTLE. 337 
 
 was talking of her yesterday, and it seemed to me 
 that he mumbled something far from re-assuring. 
 
 General. But she is a blessed woman, who will 
 always insist on having her own way. Every morn- 
 ing, in spite of rain or snow, go she must to St. The- 
 resa's for the seven-o'clock mass — and — why — Grabri- 
 eUa is not so young as she was. {Enter Giovanni.') 
 
 GriovAKNL I have been to the Countess of Monta- 
 nera's : her compKments and thanks. They say the 
 doctor considers her much better this evening (a 
 general cliorus of satisfaction) ; and I have heard 
 they were going to send a footman to tell the 
 Marchioness d'Azeglio there was no need for her 
 to sit up again to-night. 
 
 Marchioness. The Lord be praised for so much 
 mercy ! God grant she may recover ! 
 
 Countess. Truly, that excellent Costanza has 
 been wonderfully attentive to her ; she never left her. 
 
 General. Ah, she is an angel. 
 
 Abate. A good, truly a good creature. 
 
 General. By the by, talking of the d'Azeglios, 
 do you know what I have heard ? That the youngest, 
 Massimo, is going to leave the army. 
 
 Marchioness. The youngest? Let me see, he 
 must be about tweniy or one-and-twenty — and why ? 
 is he ill ? 
 
 General. Not a bit of it ! To be sure ; we 
 
 VOL. I. z 
 
338 
 
 MT EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 never heard of such things in otir days : leave the 
 service at one-and-twenty ! — unless one was seriously 
 ill or crippled. But my friend Quinto, his colonel 
 in Royal Piedmont, had already told me that he was 
 a good-for-nothing. 
 
 Countess. StiU, from what I hear from his bro- 
 ther ofScers, they all liked him. He is as mad as 
 a March hare, it is true — I always heard that — but, 
 all the same, a very good fellow. 
 
 General. Always under arrest. 
 
 Captain. General, allow me — he was often under 
 arrest, but never for neglect of his duty. Of course, 
 in the evening, his service once over — it is but too 
 true — nobody could hold him. Perhaps without a 
 saddle he would gallop off at a tearing pace to Turin. 
 I know it well enough, for I was then in garrison 
 here, and we used to play le diahle a quatre the 
 whole night long. 
 
 Maechioness. Nice life indeed, indeed ! 
 
 Captain. What would you have, aunt ? We are 
 soldiers ; we are not a batch of nuns. Then before 
 daybreak on horseback again, and another gaUop back 
 to the barracks at Veneria for morning parade. 
 
 General. This is aU very fine, my dear marquis, 
 but both for men and horses night is meant for sleep. 
 We are not bats, to roam about like that ; and I 
 do not know how far young gentlemen who ruin 
 
I SCANDALISE THE' PARTY. 339 
 
 themselves and their horses in such a way have a 
 right to say that they are good officers. Moreover, 
 after he had left Eoyal Piedmont and entered the 
 provincial militia, he used to swagger ahout the 
 streets of Turin with a white hat, and sporting a 
 scarf a V enfant; always in bad company, among 
 painters and singers ; and one fine day did he not 
 take it into his head to sing on the stage? Count 
 Revel* sent for him, and gave him such a lecture. 
 Well, well ! {Shakes his head, as if to indicate that 
 Chevalier Massimo does not suit him at all.) 
 
 Oaptadst. 0, as to that, I grant you he did every 
 wild thing you can conceive. One day did he not 
 gallop across the avenue of Veneria, at the time 
 when everybody was out, on a bare-backed horse, 
 he himself in the costume of an angel ? 
 
 Marchioness {interrupting him). Now then, do 
 not talk such nonsense ! 
 
 General. Well, well ! the TapareUis have always 
 been very queer. 
 
 Marchioness. But his father? What does he 
 say to his leaving the army ? 
 
 Countess. Well, I see I had better tell you the 
 story, for I know all about it. Costanza told me 
 everything. He does not leave the service for a 
 
 * If I am not mistaken, goTernor of Turin, or oommander- 
 in-ohief of the garrison. 
 
340 
 
 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 whim, but because he wants to go back to Eome and 
 become a painter. 
 
 Abate. ^ 
 
 General. v "What? {Incredulity.) 
 
 Marchioness.) 
 
 Captain. What an extraordinary idea ! 
 
 Countess. As to that, after all, everybody may 
 choose his own career. 
 
 General. Nice profession ! 
 
 Marchioness. Well, I agree with you — be it so. 
 Yet, though I am not a prejudiced woman, I must 
 confess I cannot quite understand — you say he wants . 
 to go to Eome and be a professional painter ? 
 
 General. WTiat the devU I does he really mean 
 to become a regular whitewasher ? 
 
 Countess {laugldng). No ; not a whitewasher, 
 but an artist ; sell his pictures — how should I know ? 
 {general laughter.) 
 
 General. It seems to me as if, in the present 
 generation, the Taparellis meant to outdo themselves. 
 This truly is beyond everything. First he wanted to 
 be a histrionic buffoon, and now a professional painter. 
 If I were the king, I would send him to paint land- 
 scapes at FenestreUe, and set his brains in order. 
 
 Marchioness. But, my dear friends, I am an old 
 woman, and know nothing about these new-fangled 
 ideas. Do explain to me. Is Massimo {smiling) going 
 
SUGGESTIVE EEMAEKS. 341 
 
 to take up the trade of that bandy-legged dwarf 
 Vacca,* who painted the miniature of Gina ? Look 
 at it, General — there, behin,d you. 
 
 General. How can I tell ? 
 
 Countess. But, no, I say, that is not the ques- 
 tion, to choose one profession rather than another; 
 as to that, everybody is his own master. You see, 
 there was an Alfieri who was an architect ; now there 
 is a Breme — the one living at Milanf — who paints. 
 There is Canella too. But they do it like gentle- 
 men. I remember, in the time of the French occupa- 
 tion, when we were in Florence — precisely when the 
 Azeglios, the Perrones, the Balbos, were there too — 
 well, I myself heard Count Alfieri say a hundred 
 times that he never made any money by his tra- 
 gedies. He spent a good deal in having them pub- 
 lished, that is certain; but he never derived the 
 smallest profit from them. 
 
 Captain. Yet — not that I wish to maintain a 
 contrary opinion — yet it is a fact, everyone tells me 
 
 * A miniature painter of some reputation at Turin, tut whose 
 deformity made a striking contrast to the beauties he so skil- 
 fully portrayed. 
 
 f My uncle, the Marquis Breme (now created Duke of Sartirana, 
 on account of his near relationship to Princess La Cisterna, the 
 youthful bride of H.K.H. the Duke of Aosta), mentioned here,' 
 has always been a great lover of art, and is himself a painter of 
 considerable ability. He now holds at the court of King Victor 
 Emanuel the office corresponding to that of Lord High Chamber- 
 lain in England. 
 
342 
 
 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 that in England gentlemen and noblemen often write 
 books and reviews, and that they sell their works at 
 a very good price. 
 
 GrENERAL. Hear, hear ! My dear Marquis, you 
 have made a good hit! What do they not sell in 
 England ? They even sell their wives !* 
 
 Captain {aside to the General). On that point I 
 prefer Italy, where we may have them for nothing. 
 
 General (aside). If your aunt hears you, how 
 she will scold ! 
 
 Countess. If I were his father, do you know 
 what I would say to him ? " Look here, my dear 
 boy," I would say, " be a painter if you like ; but be 
 one for your own pleasure, and like a gentleman." 
 And then I would add : " All yom* family have 
 always served their Idng and country; you by no 
 means lack ability ; every road is open to you. Re- 
 flect that you can earn yourself a position and a name 
 in the world, and make yourself useful to society, in 
 other ways than by painting. Of course this will not 
 prevent you amusing yourself by making pictures, if 
 you really have such a taste," &c. 
 
 * This refers to the notion, so very current on the Continent, 
 especially at the time the author was illustrating, that English 
 husbands have the right (and exercise it) of taking their wives to 
 market with a halter round their necks, and selling them to the 
 highest bidder. Vide caricatures ^«ssm. 
 
THE MEDAL REVERSED. 343 
 
 This scene will suffice, and, if I am not misled 
 by my partiality as an antlior, it alFords a very good 
 specimen of our nobility in the year 1820, with their 
 ideas, manners, expressions, and words. 
 
 I appeal to those who once frequented that society, 
 and can yet remember it. In the foregoing conver- 
 sation I have laughed at our Turinese nobility, and 
 caricatured their obsolete ideas. But the proverb 
 says, " He laughs well who laughs last." Let us now, 
 therefore, look at the reverse of the medal. 
 
 But, before looking at the medal reversed, let me 
 make an observation. After having ridiculed the class 
 to which I belong, I think I have a right to add that 
 the types who, like General San Romano, preferred 
 the old system to the new one, nevertheless died 
 bravely in the field fighting for the latter (like 
 General Passalacqua and many others at the battle 
 of Novara) when it became their duty to defend it.* 
 
 * In order to understand this allusion well, it must not be 
 forgotten that the great majority of the high-born Piedmontese 
 officers fought nobly for Italian independence in 1848 and 1849 
 (like the alsove-mentioned Marquis Passalacqua, a general killed 
 at the battle of Novara), although the traditional prejudices of 
 their caste were aU in f ayour of the old system, and made them 
 regard the new one as utterly contemptible. Tet they fought 
 with their wonted bravery, because they deemed it a duty to follow 
 their king wherever he chose to lead them. The subjoined anec- 
 dote which I have often heard my father relate, proves what an 
 extraordinary revolution of ideas the war of 1848 must have 
 seemed to the aristocratic army of King Charles Albert. Formerly 
 
344 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 a certaia number of Piedmontese officers were sent almost every 
 . year to the Austrian head-quarters at Somma or Custozza, to he 
 present at the manoeuvres which took place there every summer. 
 On one occasion, a few years after the Austrian intervention in 
 Piedmont in 1821, my father, then a young cavalry lieutenant, / 
 formed part of the Sardinian military mission to the imperial 
 camp. One day at a grand official reception the commander- 
 in-chief, old Field-Marshal Eadetzki, who always overwhelmed 
 his Piedmontese guests with civilities, perceiving my father, who 
 happened to he near him, tapped him on the shoulder ; and turn- 
 ing to his brilliant staff, among which were the representatives 
 of many a European power, he exclaimed : " Messieurs, voici 
 notre brave avant-garde 1" This did not prevent my father re- 
 ceiving five wounds while charging at the head of his regiment 
 in 1848 ; but how strange it must have seemed to him and to all 
 his contemporaries when Charles Albert threw down the gauntlet 
 to his mighty neighbour, — just as strange as it would appear to 
 us of the present generation if told to be nothing but Austria's 
 irave avant-garde I 
 
CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 Plutarch and the Marchioness of Crescentino agree in their opi- 
 nion about the cultivators of art — I should have done better 
 to learn science and the art of government rather than paint- 
 ing — Democracy of reprisals, and democracy fairly understood 
 — Examples — Comparisons between a financier, a general, an 
 administrator, a painter, a dancer, and a singer — It is right 
 that professions whose object is to please should be better 
 paid, but unfair that they should be more esteemed than use- 
 ful ones — The worship of certain arts is a sign of decline — 
 My parents consent to my return to Rome — At Genoa I meet 
 Albert Lamarmora and Cesare Balbo — I embark for Leghorn, 
 and arrive at Eome vid Florence — I adapt my mode of life to 
 my financial resources — My horror of debt — Lessons on his- 
 tory and literature, by Signer G-arello, before sunrise — The 
 Eospigliosi riding-school — Academy for the nude kept by 
 Antonio — I work in real earnest to escape from my pecuniary 
 di£6oulties — Curious expedients to which I am driven by ne- 
 cessity — Excursion to Castel Sant' Elia to visit Verstappen. 
 
 In Ms preface to the life of Pericles, Plutarch says, 
 " For this reason, Antisthenes hearing that Ismenius 
 was a very skilful player on the flute, wisely said, 
 ' But he is a bad man; otherwise he would not be such 
 an excellent player.' And Philip, addressing his son, 
 who had sung agreeably and in a masterly manner at 
 a banquet, ' Are you not ashamed,' said he, ' of sing- 
 
346 MY KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 ing so well ?' " So much for musicians. ISTow for 
 painters and sculptors : " And certainly there was no 
 well-born youth who, on seeing the Jupiter at Pisa, 
 or the Jmao at Axgos, would have ever wished to be 
 Phidias or Polycletus." Now for poets : " Nor who 
 would have wished to be Anacreon, or Plulemon, 
 or Archilochus, however mBch he may have been 
 delighted by their poems," &c. 
 
 The above fragment proves that the Marchioness 
 of Crescentino, General San Romano, the Countess 
 Gina Datis, and the court almoner Abate Gerando, 
 thought in 1820 exactly as Plutarch did in the year 
 60 or 80 of the Christian era. This coincidence 
 leads me to the discovery of another, which I do 
 not like at all. That expression of Plutarch, " and 
 certainly there was no well-born youth," &c. is a 
 sufficient proof that the world of his day fully shared 
 his opinion. No living author would dare to write, 
 " no well-born young man would choose to be Rossini, 
 or Delaroche, or Thorwaldsen, or Manzoni," for fear 
 of being laughed at. Yet, whilst Plutarch and all 
 sensible people held these opinions, we find that at 
 the same period Nero was making his celebrated tour 
 in Greece, for the purpose of presenting himself as 
 a competitor for the prizes of poetry and music, in 
 which he reaped, as might be foreseen, an abundant 
 harvest of laurels and crowns. 
 
A PARALLEL. 347 
 
 V 
 
 As you will understand, the idea of being classed 
 witli Nero {servatis servandis) rather than with Plut- 
 arch, the Marchioness of Crescentino, Greneral San 
 Romano, and persons like them, is anything but 
 flattering to my vanity. 
 
 The matter is therefore deserving of more atten- 
 tive consideration. Not to lose time with meta- 
 physical distinctions, let us take a more precise and 
 practical view of the case. 
 
 When a state is threatened with foreign invasion, 
 is it better to have at hand a moderately good gene- 
 ral or Rossini ? 
 
 When a state is on the verge of bankruptcy, is it 
 better to have a tolerable financier or Delaroche ? 
 
 When a state has entirely lost its reputation — 
 thanks to foUies and blunders — and has to reconquer 
 pubho esteem, is it better to have Thorwaldsen or 
 a tolerably good politician with a sound head and a 
 Httle experience ? And, lastly, go and ask Manzoni 
 whether he, or a plodding clerk who has spent his 
 life in the official routine of the department, is the 
 fitter to reorganise a navy, a judicial or a civil ad- 
 ministration, and you will hear his answer. 
 
 Thus, a general, a financier, an administrator, 
 of even moderate ability, are far more useful to 
 society than a painter, a musician, or a poet of first- 
 rate merit. 
 
348 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 In consequence, he who, from circumstances or 
 incKnation, cannot become a proficient in one of the i 
 more practical arts or sciences, had better, rather 
 than do nothing, cultivate a less useftil one; but, as 
 a second consequence, those families whose social po- 
 sition, fortune, and interest reduce the difficulties of 
 placing their sons in a profession of greater utiKty 
 by one-half at least, will act far more for the ad- 
 vantage of the community by trying to make them 
 good financiers, administrators, and soldiers, rather 
 than fiddlers, poets, or painters. 
 
 If the chain of my reasoning be sound and un- 
 broken, the final result would tend to show that the 
 Marchioness of Crescentino and Plutarch were, after 
 all, nearer the truth than Nero and I — he for want- 
 ing to play the musician instead of the emperor, and 
 I for desiring to be a painter instead of a soldier. 
 
 How often the profound' reality of that truth has 
 been brought home to me in the course of my Hfe ! 
 And often have I said, — How much more useful it 
 would be to me now to have learnt, and to be 
 thoroughly master of, the campaign-drill for instance, 
 instead of being able to sketch an oak from nature ! 
 To be well acquainted with the code, the pubhc ad- 
 ministration, the mechanism of finance, or the laws of 
 credit, rather than know how to paint a sky or a dis- 
 tance, or to write nonsense without any foundation. 
 
ROMAICS AND ENGLISH. 349 
 
 for the vain pleasure of making a tear roll down some 
 blooming and lovely cheek ! 
 
 In this case, however, the offence with which I 
 am charging myself is not without palliation. I in- 
 voke the defence of extenuating circumstances. 
 
 Among the ancient Greeks and Eomans the only 
 occupation worthy of a free man (especially if born to 
 the enjoyment of wealth) was statecraft. The same 
 feeling prevails among the English. And why ? Be- 
 cause both peoples had, and have, countries which, 
 if not always free, were perpetually struggling for 
 hberty. Because, secondly, their citizens possessed 
 rights protected by the law, a political arena, list- 
 eners, adherents, adversaries, and a goal to reach, at 
 once useful, great, and glorious. 
 
 Instead of this, what temptation was there for me, 
 with my feeKngs and ideas, within reach of a des- 
 potism fuU of upright and honest intentions (I grant 
 it), but whose representatives and arbiters were four 
 old chamberlains, four venerable ladies-in-waiting, 
 and a swarm of monks, nuns, priests, and Jesuits? 
 What prospect could diplomacy, the civil administra- 
 tion, or the army hold out to me ? Only that of being 
 perpetually employed in learning at what church the 
 cabinet minister, the general, or the lady-in-waiting 
 heard Mass, and who was their confessor, so as to be 
 ready to offer them holy water as they entered their 
 
350 MY SECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 respective churches; or to acquire the good graces of 
 their spiritual fathers, and obtain promotion rapidly 
 by acting upon these principles; or see the neglect of 
 them rewarded by being left on the shelf, to be trans- 
 ferred, after thirty years' obscure service, to the re- 
 tired list, among the fogies of the cafe Fiorio.* Be- 
 sides, as I then professed, as the reader is aware, a 
 profound hatred for aristocracy, and was thoroughly 
 imbued with that great delusion of our age, viz. the 
 supposition that democracy meant the extension of 
 common right to those who had long been excluded 
 from its benefits, whereas it is a reprisal of the latter 
 exercised against the ancient privileged classes ; and 
 as I neither saw, nor was able to see, anything be- 
 yond the circumstances that actually surrounded me 
 (who, in 1820, could foresee 1848?), could I possibly 
 become a humble disciple of that senseless, falla- 
 cious, and hypocritical system? Could I possibly 
 suppress all my natural tendencies, and follow the 
 more useful course I have indicated ? 
 
 My democratic fever was no longer in its former 
 inflammatory state. I no longer considered myself 
 bound to expiate the violence of the feudal barons, 
 nor the impertinence of aristocratic courtiers, by 
 haunting taverns and worse stiU, in disreputable 
 
 * One of tlie oldest and most fashionable coffee-houses of 
 Turin, formerly frequented almost exclusively by the aristocracy. 
 
SOCIAL PEEJUDICES. 351 
 
 company, and doing everyihing in my power to 
 exalt to the skies all that is ignoble and corrupt in 
 society. This system, which was an offspring of 
 the delusion I alluded to before, was no longer 
 mine ; or, to speak more correctly, after I adopted a 
 different course of life, it rose to a more wholesome 
 sphere, and I applied it more rationally. I was, 
 however, amused at the idea of somewhat vexing a 
 great many of my relations and other eqiials by birth, 
 who had annoyed me in more ways than one, by 
 making them uncles, cousins, or at least friends, of a 
 gentleman who sold the works of his brush. 
 
 If they pay me for jolting up and down on a 
 saddle, said I to myself, why should I not also be 
 paid for painting a picture ? If buying is no shame, 
 why should selling be so ? Can a transaction thus 
 accomplished by two consenting parties be shameful 
 for the one and honourable to the other ? Such were 
 my arguments, and they have since become almost 
 truisms. But at that time there was a certain merit 
 in discovering them and accepting their consequences. 
 As I do not conceal my faults, it is but fair that, when 
 it is possible, I should praise myself a little too. 
 
 This reminds me of a small water-colour sketch 
 in which I represented myself in my shirt-sleeves, 
 drawing from nature in sight of the Castle of Azeglio, 
 while the ghosts of my noble ancestors appeared clad 
 
352 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 as medieval paladins, and gave me a lecture which 
 I humbly accepted in an attitude that seemed to 
 implore their forgiveness. ISTow, however, I think 
 that reflection and experience have given a better 
 direction to my ideas. 
 
 Just as chamberlains, court-ladies, and effeminate 
 lordlings, disgusted me with aristocracy, — tribunes, 
 club-heroes, and rabid demagogues subsequently 
 cured me of the democracy which I have called 
 that of reprisals. 
 
 It is important in our age to have clear and well- 
 defined ideas on all subjects, but chiefly on this. 
 The sense of respect for everything that is respect- 
 able (as I have already remarked) is daily decreasing 
 in the world, and the fault is not all on one side. 
 It is essential that society should seek to revive it ; 
 and for this it is important that the classification of 
 things which deserve more or less respect should be 
 accurately weighed by public opinion. 
 
 I win explain my meaning : the reader will then 
 judge for himself. 
 
 First of all, of course, I would fain see honest 
 men respected, and it would be well for the majority 
 to leave off the habit of admiring and applauding 
 everyone, great or small, who maltreats or deceives 
 his neighbour for his own advantage, provided only 
 he cheats and bullies him with genius and skill. I 
 
IMPARTIALTTY. 353 
 
 should prefer to see those admired who are most use- 
 ful to their fellow men. For instance, at present 
 I greatly admire and esteem M. de Lesseps, and 
 hold his grand, useful, and happy enterprise in 
 much higher honom- than a hundred victories or 
 conquests. I very much admire Napoleon III. (be- 
 sides admiration there is also a debt of gratitude) 
 because he drove the Austrians out of Italy ; because 
 he delivered the French consumers from the clutches 
 of the pi-oducers, and endeavoured to rescue the 
 Mexicans from four or five gangs of thieves, &c. I 
 admire the Emperor Alexander of Eussia ; not when 
 he hangs or shoots the poor Poles to preserve the 
 fruits of the great spoliation of 1773, but when he 
 frees the serfs of the crown, and gives liberty to all 
 those who morun in captivity within his vast empire. 
 
 Nowadays it is more than ever important to adopt 
 a system of impartiality, and apply it both to persons 
 and things. In consequence, I would place in the 
 first rank a financier, a general, an administrator, 
 an instructor, a professor, a teacher, an engineer, 
 an author of books which improve the reader and 
 do not make him worse, and in this class may be 
 included Kterary men, novelists, and poets. 
 
 Then, in the second rank I would place artists, 
 among whom I humbly present myself for whatever 
 
 VOL. I. AA 
 
354 MY EEOOLLBOTIONS. 
 
 share of esteem may be assigned to me — musicians, 
 and singers ; with the proviso, however, that though 
 their art must be classified among secondary things, 
 individually they may always, if they choose, rise to 
 the first of all — that of honest men. 
 
 Hence this conclusion : when a tenor or a bal- 
 let-girl receives ten times the salary of a good ad- 
 ministrator or a good general, it is not unjust, and 
 the latter have no right to complain. Let us re- 
 member what Mdlle. Banti said to Catherine II. : 
 " qu'elle fasse chanter ses feldmarichauxP And the 
 reason is obvious. If an individual is capable of 
 producing a certain effect which two thousand people 
 can enjoy simultaneously, and these two thousand 
 people are delighted to pay a dollar a-head for the 
 enjojrment of the said effect, I do not see what injus- 
 tice there can be in a lucky mortal earning two 
 thousand dollars in a few hours by this means. But 
 when people take out the horses from the carriages of 
 opera-dancers, and substitute biped animals for quad- 
 rupeds ; when honours and distinctions are lavished 
 simply for triUs and entrechats; the generals, the 
 financers, the administrators of a state, have ground 
 for complaint, and then there is injustice. 
 
 And you must not fancy that I despise the lyri- 
 cal and the terpsichorean arts, or those who profess 
 them honourably. "No ; but this is a good instance 
 
. GLADIATOR ERAT ! 355 
 
 of the desirability of fixing an exact and generally 
 accepted graduated scale of the estimable. 
 
 The profession of a general, an administrator, &c. 
 is more honourable than that of an opera-dancer, a 
 tenor, &c. And why? First, because it is more 
 useful ; secondly, because to undertake a difficult 
 and ill-requited employment to serve the real and 
 most vital interests of one's own country, is a nobler 
 and more virtuous deed than to make the public 
 merry and expose oneself to mortification and insult, 
 with no possibility of being respected, for the sole 
 motive of amassing a great deal of money. 
 
 One of the surest signs of the decline of a nation 
 is an exaggerated esteem for those who professionally 
 dedicate themselves to the amusement of the pub- 
 lie ; and in the rage for histrionic intrigues and pas- 
 sions, depravity and satiety lead the sensual in- 
 stincts to cruelty and scandal. Imperial corruption 
 led Hippia to elope with Sergius the gladiator,* who 
 was neither young nor handsome, who had an ex- 
 crescence on his forehead, and was half crippled by 
 his wounds. Sed gladiator erat ! 
 
 "Which of us has not sometimes wondered at 
 seeing a Hippia of high rank at the feet of an actor 
 neither young nor handsome? Sed gladiator erat! 
 Who has not, on some occasion, seen actresses, true 
 
 ■ * Juvenal, satire vi. " Mulieres." 
 
356 MT EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 prodigies of vulgar ugliness, excite passions that 
 must have been blindfolded with a curtain instead 
 of a bandage ? Sed ludia erat ! 
 
 When in Italy I heard actors yell out of tune on 
 the stage, unable to restrain or to modulate their 
 voices, I said to myself, Italy is reviving.* 
 
 Li truth, enthusiasm for actors and actresses, 
 serenades, torchlight processions, hymns in honour 
 of ballet-girls, are now more common abroad than 
 in Italy. On this point we have made a little 
 progress. 
 
 Resuming now the thread of the narrative : my 
 parents finally consented to my wishes ; the question 
 of putting up works for sale remaining in abeyance. 
 In point of fact, before selling pictures, one must 
 first paint them, and next find purchasers. My father 
 called me one day, and signified his assent to my 
 plans, saying I was free to go to Rome when I 
 pleased ; only, with the warning that it was not his 
 intention to give me any assistance. I thought this 
 was indeed very little. I humbly raised my eyes, 
 half in astonishment, half in inquiry ; and he went 
 on to explain, that his meaning was to make no addi- 
 
 * The trutli of this remark is illustrated by the fact that since 
 1859, patriotic songs, with the sole exception of the Garibaldi 
 March, have made little or no way among the Italian people. 
 They too, perhaps, begin to think it better to try and be good 
 soldiers and citizens rather than fiddlers or singers. 
 
A SGAI^TT ALLOWAITCE. 357 
 
 tion to the allowance he gave me as pocket-money 
 while I lived at home ; which amounted, if I am 
 not mistaken, to 130 or 140 francs a month ! 
 
 It was not much certainly, especially to live on at 
 Rome, where everything was dearer than at Turin. 
 But as I would have gone with nothing at all, I 
 accepted the terms that were offered me. 
 
 At that moment so scanty an allowance made 
 a certain impression upon me. I could not help 
 thinking my parents might have been more gener- 
 ous. But I am now convinced that my father was 
 quite right. The system of making everything 
 smooth and easy to young men leaves them with- 
 out energy, practical experience, or capacity for 
 encountering the vicissitudes of the world. And I 
 bless him every day for having followed an entirely 
 opposite system with me. 0, 1 am certain his sever- 
 ity was far from being exaggerated. If every young 
 man started in life with only 150 francs a month, 
 the world would be more worthily peopled than it 
 is. For me, however, it was a very perceptible 
 fall. From having two or three horses and a ser- 
 vant, besides an orderly when I was with my regi- 
 ment, I was about to find myself minus horses and 
 lodging ; aU changed for the worse. But I repeat, 
 I would have gone at any cost : so I started. 
 
 For my mother especially, my departure was a 
 
358 MT EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 great grief. But with her brave heart, which only 
 beat for others, she always made her sacrifices in 
 silence and without remonstrance. She accompanied 
 me to the top of the stairs, and went down a few 
 steps to give me a last look. After forty-three 
 years, I still see the expression on her face as if it 
 had been yesterday. 
 
 The road through the Giovi passes not being yet 
 made at that time, I took that by the defile of the 
 Bocchetta, and thus reached Genoa. I there found 
 Cesare Balbo, major in the infantry regiment of Ca- 
 sale ; and Alberto Laraarmora,* who was also in the 
 army. They talked of nothing but politics, of the 
 events that were then taking place at l^aples, and 
 of those that might soon occur in Piedmont. 
 
 Although his first cousin, I was then not so in- 
 timate with Cesare Balbo as I became afterwax-ds. 
 I confided my ideas to him, and explained my in- 
 tention of leading a life different from that of a com- 
 monplace young Turinese noble. He liked every- 
 thing that savoured of independence and daring; and 
 conceived -a great sympathy for me, praised my 
 resolution, encouraged me, but did not say a word 
 about politics. From them I had kept aloof; he, as 
 I have mentioned, put no great faith in what was 
 brewing, and did not talk of it wiUingly. 
 
 * A brotlier of General Lamarmora. 
 
BRITISH PHILOSOPHY. 359 
 
 We have since amply made up for that silence. 
 
 An English brig was about to sail for Leghorn ; 
 at that time one had to take on board a supply of 
 provisions for an unlimited period. With a loaf you 
 may go a hundred miles ; with a htmdred loaves 
 you might not go one mile, say the sailors. I 
 embarked laden with eatables. We set sail in the 
 evening : I was ill all night ; and at eight the next 
 morning we were at Leghorn. The sailors inherited 
 my chickens and bottles untouched. 
 
 I shall pass over my journey from Leghorn to 
 Florence and Rome, every mile of which severely 
 tried my patience, as I travelled by vettwino. I 
 will only mention an English doctor, who was one 
 of the party. On several occasions I observed he. 
 was cheated in getting change for his money, and 
 stood up for him, so far as to give rise to regular 
 quarrels. With imperturbable gravity he bade -me 
 not wax so hot, because Vhomme est le mime par- 
 tout. 
 
 I treasured up this axiom ; and it has been of the 
 greatest use to me ever since, by sparing me, or at 
 least mitigating the intensity of, several hundred 
 towering passions. 
 
 At last I reached Rome. My father had ar- 
 ranged for me to live with the friends I have 
 akeady named, the Orengo family. They received 
 
360 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 me like a son ; and I tried to settle myself at once, 
 that I might begin to work. 
 
 It was of the highest importance to cut my coat 
 according to my cloth. My monthly income barely 
 amomited to five-and-twenty Eoman scudi. About 
 fifteen went for lodgings, board, and washing. The 
 rent of a studio swallowed up six more; only two 
 or three were thus left to pay for colours, models, 
 clothes, and minor pleasures. 
 
 Fully alive to the real state of my finances, I 
 acted as the chancellor of the Italian exchequer 
 ought to do, and cut down every extra expense. 
 It is true, that I was not obliged, like him, to deal 
 with a crowd of individuals who, now that Italy is 
 made, would fain eat her up. I had only to take 
 myself and my own vanity into account. 
 
 The first time I came to Rome with my father 
 — then an ambassador — I possessed an elegant and 
 brilliant uniform ; I rode on horseback or in a car- 
 riage, and lived on the same footing as the Roman 
 princes, grandees, diplomatists, &c. Now, with three 
 crowns as my sole resource, I had little scope for 
 playing the prince ! 
 
 I must turn over a new leaf, thought I. Calum 
 novum et terrain novam. I must descend as many 
 steps in the social scale as will bring me to a level 
 where my aforesaid three scudi may appear not 
 
VANITY AND PEIDE. 361 
 
 only an endurable, but even an enviable appan- 
 
 At this point I must display the pride of a Lu- 
 cifer, and, without caring to remember even the 
 existence of modesty, advise the rising generation 
 to foUow my example. 
 
 Everybody ought to live on his income ; and 
 whoever runs into debt, more or less sponges on 
 somebody else. I had, and have, I must say, an 
 inborn horror of debt. Therefore, even when I had 
 very little, instead of borrowing, I learnt not to 
 exceed my means ; and so have I constantly done, 
 and am stiU doing. In this case, as in many others, 
 vanity is the cause of ruin, and pride a safeguard. 
 Vanity crouches at the feet of a creditor, provided 
 it can indulge in show and luxury. Pride wears a 
 humble garb, and makes a boast that it need not 
 bow to anyone, nor incur obligations. 
 
 I therefore took good care not to call or leave 
 my card on any of my former fashionable acquaint- 
 ance. My uncle. Cardinal Morozzo, had gone to 
 reside in his diocese of Novara. Cardinal de Cre- 
 gorio, the intimate friend of my father, was the only 
 great personage I continued to visit. 
 
 I found a studio in a small house in the Piazza 
 Monte d'Oro ; and out of the pittance I had brought 
 from Turin to defray the expense of my first estab- 
 
362 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 lishment, I provided myself with the few things I 
 wanted, and began my new hfe directly. 
 
 It was winter, so that I could not draw from 
 nature. I gave myself up to other pursuits, di- 
 viding my days as follows : I rose two hours before 
 dawn, and went to a master who gave lessons by 
 candlelight to pupils who were otherwise occupied 
 during the day. He was a Genoese, by name Gra- 
 reUo ; a very clever man, who had invented a new 
 and useful method of applying mnemonics to the 
 study of history and the English language. 
 
 At daybreak the lesson ended, and everyone 
 went about his business. I had made acquaintance 
 with the head-groom of Prince Eospigliosi, and at 
 a cheap rate I could have an hour's gallop in the 
 riding-school of the palace on Monte Cavallo. 
 
 Without boasting, I may say that I knew more 
 about riding than he and his men. At Eome — I 
 do not know how it Is now, but then — the only no- 
 tion of a riding-master consisted in one single word, 
 whipping. If the horse stops short, whip him ; if 
 he goes too fast, whip him ; if he refuses to turn, 
 whip him ; if he shies, whip him ; and so forth. It 
 was distressing to see the poor colts — who till they 
 are three years old live unbroken in the country — 
 caught with a lasso, and at once treated to a voUey 
 of blows. Then a rough bit was put in their mouths. 
 
HORSEMANSHIP. 363 
 
 and, with a girth round them, they were trotted 
 round a ring to break them into their paces, a rope 
 attached to the head-stall, while a boy — almost an 
 equally pitiable object — ^ran panting after them, in 
 a smaller circle, with a stout whip in his hand, 
 which was used as often as it came within reach of 
 the quarters of the four-footed victim. It would 
 be impossible to describe the bounds, the kicks, 
 the plunges, the frenzy of those luckless creatures, 
 who often ended by being lamed, or brealdng their 
 necks ; and sometimes also that of the unfortunate 
 who first mounted them, after a series of other tor- 
 ments. There would be a great many anecdotes to 
 relate on this score; but if I were to tell all, I 
 should never end. This, however, I must say, for 
 I cannot pass it over in silence : those riding- 
 masters always made their horses canter on the 
 right leg. Once I asked why. " Why ?" they said, 
 " because horses cannot gallop on the left leg .''' 
 
 I used to help them in breaking young colts; 
 and I remember that when I made the above re- 
 mark I happened to be on a huge carriage-horse, 
 perhaps in order to accustom him to carry a rider 
 occasionally; and, I do not know why, but I had 
 no saddle, and only a snaftte bridle. 
 
 I burst out laughing at such a strange theory, 
 and said, " I bet you anything that, just as I am, 
 
364 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 I will make this big brute cauter on either leg ;" and 
 it was no great feat. 
 
 Anybody acquainted with a horse knows that he 
 must needs start on the leg which you make him 
 put forward ; so, by a pull at the snaffle, I bent his 
 huge head to the right, and then with my heel giving 
 him a violent kick in his side, so as to turn the hind- 
 quarters a little, I defy the brute to have gallopped 
 on any but the left leg ; and this grand performance 
 exalted my reputation for horsemansliip to the skies. 
 
 After the ride I went to my studio and worked 
 away till dinner-time, drawing and painting, study- 
 ing the anatomy both of men and horses ; first 
 tracing the bones one by one, and then diligently 
 clothing them with their muscles. After dinner I 
 went to the academy of the nude, which was kept 
 by Antonio, a model whom aU older artists will 
 well remember. His features were -not j handsome, 
 but he was splendidly made, and a true type of 
 that ancient race represented in the bas-reliefs of 
 the Trajan column. Antonio was a very good fel- 
 low, and took a keen interest in art. When young 
 men were short of means he gave them credit, and 
 sometimes lent them money. I remember on one occa- 
 sion he even sold a silver fork and spoon — his sole 
 luxury — for a wretched painter who was in distress ; 
 and I do not know whether he ever saw any trace 
 
MT FIRST PICTURE. ' 365 
 
 of them again. It is true that Sor Antonio, in a 
 moment of vivacity, had killed his own brother I One 
 cannot be perfect ! The study of the nude finished 
 at nine o'clock — a reasonable hour for early risers 
 to go to bed. 
 
 This was work, and work in real earnest. I 
 was pledged to succeed, and I wanted to do so 
 thoroughly and quickly. After having chosen to 
 go my own way, in spite of aU advice, and be the 
 first to forswear the traditions of my caste, I was 
 intensely anxious to show some results to those who 
 were awaiting an opportunity to make a butt of me. 
 I knew how indispensable it was for me to paint a 
 picture, and send it as a sample of my progress, 
 and an earnest of my future capability. 
 
 I strained every nerve to invent a subject which 
 did not require too much skiU ; and at last, making 
 the most of the few notions I had been able to scrape 
 together, I composed a picture having a castle on the 
 right entirely in shadow, and a distant view of Mount 
 Soracte on the left. This sketch had very little ar- 
 tistic merit, but was not altogether without colour, 
 and a certain general effect which might please those 
 who did not know much of the matter. 
 
 The wish to show what I could do was not my 
 only incentive to work; I was also spurred on by 
 want, and I entertained a hope of being speedily de- 
 
366 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 livered from my straits if I could show that I had 
 not gone to Kome to be idle. It was literally im- 
 possible, with my scanty allowance, to buy clothes 
 and other necessaries; and I was reduced to the 
 oddest expedients. 
 
 The landlady from whom I rented my studio was 
 an old Milanese baUet-girl — an ugly but good sort 
 of woman. She was the widow of an architect, whose 
 name I never knew, but whom in her native dialect 
 she spoke of as el pover Sur Basili. Being left with 
 small means, she was put to various shifts to raise 
 money, and the wardrobe of her husband having 
 been doomed to replenish the empty cash-box, I, 
 as a lodger, obtained the privilege of the first pick. 
 The deceased having been about my height, several 
 articles of his attire were transferred to my chest at 
 small cost. But as he had been much stouter, his 
 boots would have held three of my feet. My friends 
 laughed on seeing me walk in these kind of boots, 
 and for several years always designated the time of 
 my early artistic life as the epoch of Sor Basilio^s hoots. 
 
 I bought myself a suit of that warm hairy stuff 
 called at Rome horgonzone, which wears well, though 
 it makes no show. Such was my Hfe, and it re- 
 mained the same for years. 
 
 All this was a sacrifice, and to many it would 
 have appeared a very great one indeed; but I do 
 
ARTISTIC THOUGHTLESSNESS. 367 
 
 not want to pass myself off to the reader as more 
 meritorious than I was. My fall into comparative 
 indigence never made me despond for a moment. 
 First of all, I defy anybody to be out of humour at 
 one-and-twenty with good health and fiiU indepen- 
 dence. And then I think I have already said that 
 my character has some slight resemblance to Don 
 Quixote. When he slept in the open air, with his 
 stomach empiy, and, as if that was not enough, his 
 bones sometimes aching from the blows he had re- 
 ceived, he was in perfect ecstasies, fancying all this 
 made him really a knight-errant. And so I, in like 
 manner, fancied I was a real artist when I found 
 myself without money. 
 
 Nor can it be denied that this was one of the chief 
 characteristics of the painters of those days. I am 
 speaking of Italian painters. Thus, always working, 
 either alone or with some other modest artist of my 
 own calibre, keeping aloof from society or the thea- 
 tres, and from all the other pleasm-es of life — you 
 know why — I spent the wiater; and at the begin- 
 ning of the spring I had finished my picture, which 
 I forthwith sent to Turin. I then began to think of 
 hunting for a place where I might live cheaply for 
 a length of time, and continue my studies from 
 nature. 
 
 Though I was no longer a pupil of Verstappen, 
 
368 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 I had by no means entirely given him up; and 
 when I could penetrate his seclusion, I did my best 
 to keep on good terms with him. He had married 
 the daughter of the sculptor Pacetti ; and as I knew 
 her brother, mother, uncle, and aunt, I could go to 
 the house when I chose. I thus learnt that he in- 
 tended to go in May to Castel Sant' Elia, between 
 Nepi and Civita Castellana. Though a very skilful 
 artist, and a man about jBfty years of age, he still 
 used to devote three or four months of every summer 
 to drawing from nature, like a beginner. To me, 
 who indeed was such, the advantage of being near 
 him, and getting his advice, and, if possible, of seeing 
 him work, seemed so great, that I resolved to pitch 
 my tent also at Castel Sant' Elia. 
 
CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 I start for Castel Sant' Elia with Verstappen's brother-in-law — A 
 night at Nepi in the inn of Veleno — Adventure — Description 
 ■ of that part of the Roman Campagna — Castel Sant' Elia and 
 its owner, Count PanimoUi — Michele Paoetti and I arrive at 
 Castel Sant' Elia, and hasten to visit Verstappen — ^We lodge 
 in an old house ransacked at the time of the Eepublio — We 
 extemporise the best sleeping accommodation we can for our- 
 selves and Michele's ass — The kitchen department — Studies 
 from nature, and the abatino my attendant — Remarks on 
 art, and especially on landscape-painting — Academies of fine 
 arts and encouragement societies — Life of Verstappen at Castel 
 Sant' EUa — I study the new society which surrounds me, and 
 find that Vlwmme est le meme partout — I am discovered to be 
 Marquis Massimo d'Aaeglio. 
 
 The brother-in-law of Verstappen, who had been 
 my fellow-student for some time in his studio, had 
 also chosen the same residence from similar motives. 
 Both were novices in landscape-painting ; both were 
 young, and had very light purses ; our reasons for 
 remaining together were therefore the same, and we 
 agreed to wait till worthy Martin had settled himself 
 and taken a house, that we might fall unexpectedly 
 upon him. Our visit certainly did not enter into 
 his plans, and without the complicity of his relations 
 we should have found it hard to discover where he 
 
 VOL. I. BB 
 
370 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 was when once he had left the gates of Rome. We 
 wished, therefore, to let him settle down before 
 appearing on the stage, fearing that if he were fore- 
 warned, he would make his escape without leaving 
 us a chance of following his traces. 
 
 At last the day of his departure arrived, and as 
 soon as we were certain that he had taken a house, 
 we also set off. Starting from Rome early in the 
 morning, we went to sleep at Nepi. The innkeeper 
 bore the nickname of " Veleno" (Poison), and was 
 the original of the host I afterwards portrayed in 
 Ettore Fieramosca* His hostehy was no better kept 
 than that of Barletta, as may be judged from this 
 incident. We were in bed, and had been asleep for 
 some time, in a wretched room at the top of the 
 house, when suddenly we were roused by the tram- 
 pling of horses, jingling of bells, and shouts, which 
 made us aware that there were new-comers. Just 
 as we were trying to go to sleep again, the servant- 
 girl knocked at the door, and called through the 
 keyhole, " Master says that he wants your mattresses 
 for these travellers." I am sorely afraid that our 
 answer was not quite consistent with the respect 
 
 * Ettore Meramosca, or the Challenge of Barletta, is the title 
 of the first historical novel published by Massimo d'Azeglio. It 
 ranks among the best of the modern Italian school, and at opce 
 won for its author the reputation of a most distinguished and 
 elegant writei-. 
 
OUK VIRGIN LAND. 371 
 
 always due to the fair sex, but I do not remember 
 the words; I do recollect, however, that a negotia- 
 tion began about the mattresses, which lasted some 
 time, and was only broken off when it became clear 
 that we intended to resist tooth and nail. Such 
 were the customs of Veleno's establishment. 
 
 We made our glorious entrance into Castel Sant' 
 Elia on one of the warmest and brightest afternoons 
 of May. One of the most beautiful and picturesque 
 parts of the Eoman Campagna is that which begins 
 at Nepi, and extends in width to the Tiber, while it 
 stretches lengthwise as far as Otricoli and even Narni. 
 Foreigners and tourists have not yet discovered it, 
 and in May 1821 it was, of course, still less known. 
 I have always found a peculiar beauty in those parts 
 of Italy where the foot of the foreigner has left no 
 trace. Good or bad, it is our virgin land as God 
 made it, and not spoilt by anyone. 
 
 Seen from a distance, this region appears a slightly 
 undulating plain; but when you enter it, you find 
 yourself suddenly on the edge of wide ravines, which 
 furrow the soil, at the bottom of which flow small 
 brooks. These streams rise in the hills of Sutri, 
 Vice, and Viterbo, and their beds are at first almost 
 on the surface. Gradually they plough their way to 
 a lower level, and wind tortuously through those 
 deep valleys, often more than a mile wide. It is 
 
372 
 
 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 hard to conceive how such small rivulets can have 
 excavated, these deep and extensive beds. But, on 
 the other hand, what other element than water can 
 have formed them ? The banks of these ravines are 
 mostly grand fragments of perpendicular rock, some- 
 times slopes clad with grass or wood. The bottom 
 is fresh and green, thanks to the huge trees and their 
 deep shade, to the babbling streams, the rills, and 
 the pools of still water, which in one place behold 
 and reflect the verdure of the surrounding trees or 
 the deep blue of the sky, whUe in another they are 
 overshadowed and half hidden by the wild and 
 exuberant vegetation. I have never seen a richer 
 treasure of natural beauties for a landscape-painter. 
 
 At Nepi one of these ravines begins to hoUow 
 itself out; and two miles further, on the summit of 
 an abrupt clifP to the left, stands Castel Sant' Eh'a, 
 a village of about five hundred souls, who dwell in 
 tumbledown houses or hovels, upon which time, mal- 
 aria, and the sea-breeze have spread so thick a coat 
 of the same velvety moss as picturesquely colours 
 the rocks on which they stand, that it is hardly pos- 
 sible to distinguish one from the other. 
 
 Coming from Nepi, one enters a wide street, 
 formed by two rows of houses of desolate appear- 
 ance. Those on the right are on the very edge of 
 the great ravine, and their windows open over a 
 
AiT ECCENTRIC MAJST. 373 
 
 perpendicular abyss some hundreds of feet deep. A 
 hundred yards farther up the street one finds traces 
 of a wide ditch, and a rampart which surrounded 
 the ancient castle, built on an isolated rock at an 
 angle of the cHffs. This stronghold was a fief of the 
 house of the Counts Paniraolli, whose last representa- 
 tive in my time was so very eccentric a man that 
 he deserves a passing mention. 
 
 This original, eminently a man of the world, lived 
 in Rome. There was not a house, not a lady, that 
 he did not know, and usually on terms of intimacy. 
 He was at every party, ball, or entertainment; he 
 dined with all the great Roman families, as well as 
 with foreigners, and at the embassies. He was ge- 
 nerally popular and welcome, because no one ever 
 had a reproach to address to him ; nay, he had been 
 of service to every one. He was an obliging man, 
 helpftd and full of resources on an emergency, who 
 was acquainted with all affairs, secrets, news, gossip, 
 marriages, flirtations, scandals, &e., and who never 
 changed his countenance nor his good-humour, and 
 apparently not even his dress, which was always 
 black and a little threadbare, without ever being 
 actually shabby. When receptions, operas, suppers 
 were all over, and it was necessary to part for the 
 night, Panimolli used to go to Piazza Colonna, at the 
 comer of the cafe degli Specchi, where he found his 
 
374 Mt EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 servant in attendance. He inquired if there were 
 any letters, messages, or commissions for Mm, gave 
 his orders for the next day, and then — good-bye; 
 Panimolli disappeared, and no one in the world knew 
 where he went, nor did I ever hear of its being dis- 
 covered, even by the servant, who only communi- 
 cated with his master once a-day, that is at night, 
 between three and four o'clock, at the corner of the 
 cafe degli Specchi. 
 
 We thus entered the feudal domain of this charm- 
 ing madcap in the afternoon, as I said, of a fine day 
 in May. I was on foot, and my companion Michele 
 on the donkey which he possessed and I envied, and 
 upon which he had deliberately ridden the thirty-two 
 miles dividing us from Kome. 
 
 Our first visit was naturally paid to Verstappen, 
 who, thinking no one in Rome knew of his retreat 
 to Castel Sant' Elia, had gone to sleep in tlae hap- 
 piest and laziest quiescence. When our apparition, 
 at once meek and smiling, obliged him to rouse up, 
 he had not the power which distinguishes civilised 
 races of masking his disgust under a semblance of 
 pleasure; his round mother-of-pearl eyes opened 
 upon us with the utmost sincerity, fully expressing 
 the annoyance he felt at our arrival. We asked him 
 in vain if he knew how we could lodge, either in a 
 private house or at an inn, <fec. He knew nothing 
 
INTERNATIONAL TREATY. 375 
 
 about it, and internally prayed that every roof might 
 refuse us its shelter. His prayers would have been 
 granted had we been more fastidious ; for there was 
 not even the slightest pretence to an inn, a tavern, 
 a lodging, or a room to be let. "Worse still, there 
 was no butcher in the place ; scarcely a baker, if I 
 am not mistaken. 
 
 Our visit over — and it did not last long — we went 
 in search of a house, knocking at every door, offering 
 ourselves as lodgers, and in return were sent about 
 our business by three-fom-ths of the villagers^ But is 
 there not even a hole, a garret, a cellar, to be let in 
 all this (I hope I said) charming hamlet ? 
 
 At last the peasants answei'ed this question by 
 pointing out an old tumbledown house on the brink 
 of the precipice, without doors, shutters, or window- 
 panes, which had remained desolate and uninhabited 
 since the days of the French Republic. It had then 
 been sacked by the soldiery, with whom the Italians 
 unconsciously made a treaty of commerce — not, how- 
 ever, of their invention — by which the former im- 
 ported the principles of 1789, and exported every- 
 thing they could find in our pockets. Neither those 
 soldiers nor the Itahans then had the slightest suspi- 
 cion of the final result of the events that were taking 
 place ; but, as usual, men thought they were changing 
 the world, whereas it was Grod who was doing so. As 
 
376 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 we kad no choice, and yet were determined to stay, 
 we accepted the ruined house. We inquired after 
 its owner, and cheaply obtained investiture of our 
 new abode, the important ceremony of consigning 
 the keys being omitted, for the reason that the French 
 had carried them all away in 1798. 
 
 Armed with lion-like courage, we went to take 
 possession, pushed in a rickety door, groped through 
 a narrow passage full of cobwebs, into a little yard 
 overgrown with rank grass, stinging-nettles, and 
 other weeds, and its walls green with moss. Here 
 we left the donkey quite in his element, and happier 
 than we. Next we reconnoitered the upper rooms. 
 The only furniture left was an old kneehng-chair, 
 which fortunately had still its little drawer and key, 
 and an old leather seat with arms. The beds and 
 aU other comforts may be described in one word — 
 notliing. 
 
 Yet there is a cure for everything but death. We 
 hired two sacks, such as hold corn, then bought straw 
 enough to fill them ; we had each brought a pair of 
 sheets, and when the sacks were laid on the floor and 
 the sheets spread over them, the bed-room at once 
 assumed a decent appearance; we also procured a 
 table, so as not to eat off the floor — I forget how we 
 came by it, and can therefore give no explanation ; 
 I will adhere to the truth even about this; and 
 
A COUNTRY ABODE. 377 
 
 we then thought our first requirements for that even- 
 ing were provided for. 
 
 A great problem, however, was atill unsolved, 
 that of securing the donkey in a safe place for the 
 night, honest men not being the sole inhabitants of 
 Castel Sant' Elia; nay, to judge by their counte- 
 nances, one might suspect them of being much the 
 reverse. But we found a remedy even for this, I 
 took the donkey by the halter, and his master, having 
 seized him by the tail, pushed him forward, In this 
 way we conducted him up the twenty steps which led 
 to the first floor. There we fastened him as best we 
 could, laid down a heap of grass for his supper, bade 
 him good-night, and then retired to sleep upon our 
 sacks in the next room. 
 
 The outer door was secured by means of a wooden 
 bar, which we tied with a rope that was hanging out 
 of the hole where the lock had once been. We slept 
 the sleep of weariness and youth, which is even 
 sounder than that of innocence, until we suddenly 
 sprang up from our sacks at a loud explosion, which, 
 between sleeping and waking, seemed to us the trum- 
 pet of the last day. 
 
 We had forgotten that the donkey was in the 
 ante-room, but he reminded us of his presence to- 
 wards dawn by a bray which, in the stillness of the 
 early morning, resounded through the empty rooms 
 
378 
 
 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 SO sonorously as to make us fancy the end of the 
 world was come. 
 
 The next»day we ingeniously spread some paper 
 over the remnants of the shattered window-frame, 
 to shelter ourselves from the damp of the night, 
 and then we turned our attention to the important 
 question of food. 
 
 Our entrance-haU possessed an old-fashioned 
 chimney, with a huge overhanging mantelshelf, and 
 therefore appeared suitable for a kitchen. We made 
 a trip to Nepi, and brought back the necessary imple- 
 ments, — two or three saucepans, some earthenware 
 pots, a few ladles, and some provisions ; and on the 
 second day we were all three settled, my companion 
 and I in the house, and the ass in the stable (the door 
 of which having been mended, could now be fastened 
 up), with all the luxuries even a sybarite could rea- 
 sonably desire. 
 
 Nevertheless, the fare seemed very meagre, even 
 to me, which is saying a great deal. We each went 
 in turn to Nepi every other day, with our faithful 
 donkey, to procure provisions. This excursion sup- 
 plied us with bread, a little meat, and suchlike. As 
 for vegetables, fruit, hams, milk, butter, &c., they 
 were out of the question. 
 
 As a change, we every now and then bought a 
 live kid from a shepherd ; but we had to kill, skin, 
 
OUB HOUSEHOLD. 379 
 
 and draw it, &c., so that before seeing it on the table, 
 with its httle roasted head, we had to go through ten 
 or twelve different processes, all of them far from 
 amusing ; and the worst of all was to see the little 
 white face with its pink nose stare up with stupid 
 innocent eyes, and then have to fell it with a blow, 
 and cut its windpipe. Male suada fames ! 
 
 Frogs afforded another variety in our biU of fare. 
 While resting from our work we used to thread them 
 through with a wire, and sometimes we came home 
 with a grand harvest. We both took om- share in 
 cooking. 
 
 Such was our household, perfectly in keeping 
 with our poverty. Its estabhshment hardly occupied 
 a whole day ; and on the morrow we were able to 
 set to work at sunrise. I did not possess a donkey — 
 my means forbade that — so I hired a lad between 
 fifteen and sixteen, who, being destined to the eccle- 
 siastical profession, waited on the curate, acted as 
 sacristan, and of course wore the priestly garb — 
 that is to say, in those villages during the heat every 
 one goes about in shirt-sleeves, and thus his sole dis- 
 tinctives were his black stockings and knee-breeches. 
 This unfledged priestling carried my traps, washed 
 my brushes, and was an excellent boy. God knows 
 what has become of him. Is he now a canon or a 
 prelate ? The thing is possible ; for, by the rules of 
 
380 My RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 the Roman curia, the ecclesiastical career is open to 
 the most humbly born, as weU as to persons of high 
 rank. 
 
 I think it may not be out of place if I here say a 
 few words about my profession. If you are not a 
 painter, or take no interest in such matters, there is 
 the usual remedy — skip. 
 
 In the eighteenth century society had arrived in 
 everything at the extreme boundaries of the artificial, 
 the affected, the grotesque, the eccentric, the illogical, 
 &c. One might extend this remark to higher and 
 more important spheres ; but I have ah-eady said 
 this often enough. I shall content myself with re- 
 marking that the aberration of taste (precisely in 
 questions of taste) had become all but incredible. 
 In the matter of fashion, female portraits show us 
 the huge edifices of white powder then worn, with a 
 microscopic straw -hat, or a wreath of roses perched 
 on the top. And in point of art, water-colour land- 
 scapes for instance, of a single hue, and which ? red 
 lake, or pure vermiKon ! The rising generation, not 
 having seen them, will perhaps disbelieve me ; but I 
 actually saw them, and was not blindfolded at the 
 time. 
 
 In art also at that period there was a general 
 impulse towards a close imitation of nature. In 
 historical pictures, the influence of tlie Grseco-Ro- 
 
LANDSCAPE-PAINTING. 381 
 
 man ideas which served or were made to serve the 
 pontics of the day, multiplied pictures representing 
 Achilles, Ajax, Miltiades, the Horatii and Curiatii, 
 the Gracchi, &c. "With nature before them, artists 
 sought antique forms in all their monotonous affecta- 
 tion — they insisted on showing the nude everywhere, 
 even through the clothes, and painted figures in dra- 
 pery so clinging as to appear wet. So far did this 
 mania go, that to a sculptor of the classic school, 
 the navel was visible under mediteval armour, and 
 that a draughtsman, who had to represent Napoleon 
 standing, showed the knee-caps through a tall jack- 
 boot ! 
 
 Landscape-painting, on the contrary, dwelt in an 
 atmosphere uncharged with political passions, and 
 followed a more rational course. Its followers passed 
 from the monochrome paintings in lake or vermi- 
 lion of the mannerists (specimens of which may still 
 be seen in the dessus d6 forte of the dwellings of 
 the rich of that date) to an exact minute imita- 
 tion of nature, enlivened by no vestige of imagina- 
 tion whether in the subject, in the form, or in the 
 effect. 
 
 Hackert was one of the first to apply this theory, 
 so simple in appearance, and yet so often ignored in 
 practice, namely, that art is the likeness of nature ; 
 and that as it is impossible to make any portrait what- 
 
382 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 ever without being acquainted with the original, so 
 nature, to be faithfully rendered, must be studied and 
 observed as closely as may be. 
 
 He died at Florence in 1807. The Countess 
 d' Albany possessed a very large landscape by him, 
 representing a wood with high trees, with a dis- 
 tance, and some deer in the foreground. A cloudy 
 remembrance of it remains among my earliest 
 impressions, and I recollect that I used to gaze at 
 it long and admiringly. His talent, the success of 
 his new style, his reputation, and the wealth he ac- 
 quired, allm-ed numerous imitators, as is always the 
 case. 
 
 For upwards of twenty years his school flourished 
 in Eome. The Dutchmen Woogd and Therlink, 
 the Fleming Verstappen, the Frenchmen Denis and 
 Chauvin, and the Bolognese Bassi, were the leaders 
 of one of the most successfal artistic epochs of which 
 I have any recollection. 
 
 They were in the prime of life and at the height 
 of their powers in the year 1814, when Europe, sick 
 of the smell of gunpowder and of the sight of blood, 
 was longing to restore her broken spirit by the bless- 
 ings of peace. 
 
 The English more especially, who had been so 
 long detained in quarantine in their island, poured 
 forth like lava on the Continent ; and if in Italy they 
 
STUDIES FEOM NATURE. 383 
 
 did not show njuch knowledge of art, they never- 
 theless professed to idolise it, so nrneh so that the 
 above-mentioned painters were unable to satisfy all 
 their demands. 
 
 Every artist had a subject in which he was sup- 
 posed to excel. I remember that the cascade of the 
 Velino* was the masterpiece of Bassi. I think that 
 in a few years he must have made at least sixty 
 copies of it; so that, to say the truth, they got at 
 last to look as if they were stenciUed. 
 
 I scrupulously followed the maxims of that school, 
 and believe them to be the best. I painted from 
 nature on a canvas of moderately large size, endea- 
 vouring to finish the study, or the picture, on the 
 spot, without adding a touch at home. I studied 
 detached fragments on a smaller scale, always try- 
 ing to finish as highly as I could. This was my 
 morning task. In the afi«rnoon I drew, also from 
 nature, finishing with great care and studying every 
 detail. Thanks to this system, my sojourn of two 
 months at Oastel Sant' Elia witnessed my first real 
 progress, and got me through the real difficulties of 
 the beginner. 
 
 * The Velino is a river in the territory of tlie Sabines, which 
 rises in the central Apennines, and falls into the Nar from a 
 height of several hundred feet, thus forming the celebrated cas- 
 cade known to travellers under the name of the Falls of Temi, 
 or delle Marmore. 
 
384 MY KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Finishing a pictm-e on the spot, as one would do 
 in the studio, is useftd in compelling the student to 
 seek aerial perspective with the simple means offered 
 by nature, and not with the forced contrasts of con- 
 ventional art ; reminding us, however, that our means 
 are very limited, whUst those of nature are infinite. 
 She possesses light on her palette, whereas we have 
 only white lead upon ours. We are, therefore, ob- 
 liged to have recom-se to artifice; hence the name 
 " art." It is easy to obtain perspective in a misty 
 and azure distance by means of a large black tree 
 in the foreground, after the fashion of the manner- 
 ists ; but it is less easy to obtain the same perspec- 
 tive, with the endless means used by nature, which 
 very often is light on the foreground and dark in 
 the distance. Not only is it less easy, but it is im- 
 possible to get near it, if the aerial perspective is not 
 in some degree altered — if the distance is not a little 
 neglected, and the foreground a little more finished 
 than in nature. This artifice, however, must be kept 
 within certain limits. And how are they to be fixed ? 
 By talent and taste : for in these lies the first and 
 true lever of art, while inspiration is the ardent ray 
 that alone can fertilise their germs. In landscape- 
 painting, precepts, observations may be suggested, 
 &c. ; but if one does not act by inspiration, they are 
 all useless. It is for this reason that great landscape- 
 
TWO STAGES OF AST. 385 
 
 pamters have been more rare than painters excellent 
 in the other branches of ari 
 
 I followed the system I hare just described for 
 very many years, spending the whole of the fine 
 season in the country, Now, on the contrary, art- 
 ists study less from nature, and altogether in a dif- 
 ferent way. Which is the best system? Perhaps 
 it would be that which could combine both. 
 
 The years of capability allotted to man are num- 
 bered; it is well, therefore, to apportion their em- 
 ployment wisely. A landscape-painter must first of 
 all learn to reproduce nature, and then to make 
 pictures. 
 
 I perhaps gave too much time to the first stage, 
 and too Kttle to the second ; whereas the right thing 
 to do would be to devote sufficient time to each of 
 them. 
 
 Nowadays too little is devoted to the first. But 
 art is totally different from what it used to be thirty 
 years ago ; it proceeds fi'om other impulses, dwells 
 in another atmosphere, and is labouring under other 
 necessities. That confounded phrase which has de- 
 ceived, killed, or starved so many people — "the 
 encouragement of art" — a phrase which it was 
 thought possible to convert into a fact by the in- 
 stitution of academies of art — is now bearing its 
 fruits, 
 
 VOL. I. CO 
 
386 MT RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 By dint of manufacturing artists, art has be- 
 come an industry ; and as in this branch the supply 
 always exceeds the demand, efforts have been made 
 to provide for the great mass of operatives who are 
 necessarily unemployed. For this purpose charit- 
 able persons have started in several towns so-called 
 " societies for the promotion of art," truly benevolent 
 institutions ; and governments contribute to their 
 support, and squander public money in purchases 
 with the view of affording relief to that crowd of 
 artists — whom sound economical principles would 
 justly leave without work — and thus preventing 
 them from literally dying of hunger. And I too, 
 when I was minister, did like the rest. May heaven 
 and the tax-payers forgive my sin ! 
 
 But it really is quite extraordinary to see how 
 stupid men sometimes are : and the beauty of it is 
 that nowadays all discourse turns upon economical 
 laws, free-trade, real value, supply and demand. Let 
 us make an hypothesis. 
 
 Suppose a city of fifty thousand souls — ^that is, 
 about five-and-twenty thousand male inhabitants, 
 fifteen thousand adults, and therefore about fifteen 
 thousand heads each requiring a hat. There are 
 hatters who provide them ; if the demand increases, 
 they engage extra journeymen ; if it decreases, they 
 dismiss them, and the latter emigrate to other skies. 
 
PKOTECTIONIST SYSTEM. 387 
 
 TIius they all get a livelihood, and nobody is obliged 
 to maintain them. But a great man is born who 
 becomes a minister, and persuades himself that the 
 hat-trade requires encouragement: so he founds an 
 academy, and appoints as its members the most dis- 
 tinguished hatters the country can boast; he pays 
 them liberally, and they teach with such zeal that 
 every year new hatters are turned out — quite useless 
 beings, as there are no more heads to cover. Find- 
 ing themselves without bread, they make an outcry, 
 complain, worry the public, and then good charit- 
 able souls form a benevolent association to buy up 
 all tlie spare hats, and so they give bread to the 
 legion of equally spare hatters; and the minister 
 proposes to parliament to grant a sum to assist in 
 defraying the expense. Would it not have been 
 better to save the money in the first instance, and 
 not keep up a manufacture of hatters for whom there 
 was no employment ? Besides, the protectionist form 
 of the socieiy of encouragement has other drawbacks. 
 In the first place, that of wearying the public by 
 perpetually thrusting those blessed fine arts under its 
 nose. Do you want to render a thing seductive? 
 If so, endeavour to excite a taste for it; whereas 
 there is not a corner where one is safe from the 
 ramifications of the aforesaid protection. The idea 
 of regular exhibitions is, however, not an Italian 
 
388 MY EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 sin. Whoever was the guilty party, it has been an 
 ill-advised notion. 
 
 Second drawback. He who exhibits, wishes, save 
 in very exceptional cases, to sell; nay, it is neces- 
 sary that he should do so, and his creditors axe still 
 more anxious on the subject than he himself. If a 
 certain small picture is sold, the tailor, the boot- 
 maker, and the colourman are paid in fuU or in 
 part, after which credit is given for another year. 
 
 Therefore patrons of both sexes, protectors, and 
 friends, are set in motion ; bows, more or less cring- 
 ing, are made in every direction to ministers, of- 
 ficials, clerks, &c. ; nor are those hidden threads of 
 the feminine gender neglected, which secretly puU 
 the string of social intrigues. Thus characters are 
 lowered, falsified, and that which is called protection 
 of the fine arts becomes a charity, or an incentive to 
 baseness and corruption.* 
 
 * Massimo d'Azeglio says that societies for the encouragement 
 of the fine arts are not an Italian invention ; but I do not know 
 ■whether they even exist in England, nor am I acquainted with 
 the system pursued in France or Germany. In Italy the " Society 
 promotricl di belle Arti" are organised as follows : The firet idea 
 was to hold annual exhibitions, and out of the funds furnished 
 by public subscription the committee of the directors were to buy 
 a certain number of pictures, for which the subscribers afterwards 
 drew lots. In the next place, the royal family, the different de- 
 partments of state, &c. are expected not only to subscribe largely, 
 but also to make several purchases each year. The intention, o£ 
 course, is to encourage young and needy artists ; but, as Massimo 
 
DETEEIOEATION OF TASTE. 389 
 
 If, at least, the taste of the pubho or the artists 
 could thereby be improved ! But, on the contrary, 
 it is only deteriorated. The desire to sell, logically 
 leads to the desire of being conspicuous and re- 
 markable ; whence the farther necessity of becoming 
 the fashion, and of obeying not conscience, which 
 is- preci'ous in art as in everything else, but the 
 caprice of the day. Thence a perpetual watch to 
 ascertain which way the wind blows, and then re- 
 produce, not the image of truth and beauty which 
 every artist feels within him, but of that particular 
 style which has secured the approbation of the pub- 
 lic, and especially of the buyers, either here or else- 
 where. 
 
 It is therefore no longer sought to make art dis- 
 tinctive or sincere, but merely to ape this or that 
 painter who happens to be " the rage" in Paris or 
 
 d'Azeglio says (and lie was a competent judge, having been for 
 many years either president or an influential member of these 
 Booieties), influences of every kind are brought into play to insure 
 the sale of this or that bad picture, either because the painter 
 has patrons in high quarters, or else is literally famishing. The 
 result is mischievous in both cases ; for it either fosters corrup- 
 tion, or encourages a man fitter perhaps to handle a hammer or 
 a spade than the brush. 
 
 Unhappily these societies in Italy are not an isolated fact, 
 but one of the natural products of the protectionist system neces- 
 sarily prevailing in a country where individual action and impulse 
 is as yet undeveloped ; and it can only be altered by the progress 
 of the future. 
 
390 MT EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 London; and art is thus reduced to a more or less 
 exact and successful counterfeit. 
 
 The result of this is a strange discrepancy in the 
 most widespread ideas. Independence, nationality, 
 united Italy, are our idols; and, indeed, landscape- 
 painters are generally tuned to the cry of " Rome or 
 death;" yet when they take up a brush the only 
 thing they do not copy is Italy ! The glorious Italian 
 scenery, the splendid light, the rich hues of her 
 skies, are deemed unworthy of being represented ! 
 Go to our exliibitions, and what do you see? A 
 landscape in the north of France, an imitation of 
 so-and-so, a sea-view at Etretat or Honfleur, an 
 imitation of somebody else, a moor in Flanders, a 
 wood at Fontainebleau, borrowed Heaven knows 
 from whom ; and all these with the faded skies, 
 the dead light of those climates, and earthy tints, as 
 if a mud-coloured veil were drawn over them. And 
 if our artists sometimes attempt a subject from their 
 own country, it would seem that they fear to im- 
 part to it life and truth ; that they dread the azure 
 of the sky and the deep verdure of the vegetation ; 
 and they represent a cold shivering Italy, chilled by 
 the winds of the north. Though bom in the true 
 native country of every natural beauty, under the 
 clear and potent rays of a sun which colours sea 
 and plain, tree and mountain, palaces and menu- 
 
APING FOREIGNERS. 391 
 
 ments with so many glorious tints, they prefer an 
 art enslaved to the foreigner; an art which awaits 
 its models and inspirations from Paris or London, 
 with the pacotille of the other nouveautds of the year; 
 they prefer a nature without soul, without character, 
 feeble and duU as the sound of an instrument under 
 the influence of the soft pedal ; and for the sake of 
 this they repudiate Italy and her skies, and aU those 
 beauties which, if they unfortmiately once attracted 
 so many enemies within our borders, now, thank 
 God, only attract friends who are never weary of 
 magnifying them ! 
 
 Cannot the woods, the oak copses, the chestnut 
 groves, which clothe the long ridge of the Apen- 
 nines, stand a comparison with the forest of Fon- 
 tainebleau ? Are the shores of Albenga, Sestri, Port' 
 Ercole, Sorrento, Amalfi, less splendid than those 
 of Etretat and Trouville ? Are the yellow waves of 
 the Ocean more poetical than the azure flood of the 
 Tyrrhenian and Ionian seas ? 
 
 It is not enough to have independence on our 
 lips, if it is not also in our hearts, and in every- 
 thing^even in art. Let us be a nation — Italians — 
 ourselves at last in everything, in every shape, and 
 in every way ; or if we will not act more, let us brag 
 
 less loudly. 
 
 Those landscape-painters of 1814, on the con- 
 
392 MT KECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 trary, whom I quoted above, all foreigners except 
 Bassi, did not think Italy imworthy of being por- 
 trayed, and all Europe was of their opinion. I 
 have still before my eyes the shores of Naples and 
 Baia, painted by Denis; the Caudine Forks, by 
 Chauvin ; the distant views of the Roman Cam- 
 pagna, by Woogd ; the woods on the banks of the 
 Nera, by Verstappen, and the cascade delle Mar- 
 more, by Bassi. At Naples, Vianelli, Gigante, Smar- 
 giasso, OareUi, and many others, had no need to quit 
 their happy climes to secure wealth and fame ; and 
 yet Heaven knows what political ideas were then 
 rampant ! 
 
 And now that everything ought to breathe in- 
 dependence, spontaneous action, free and original 
 impulse, why should my poor art of landscape-paint- 
 ing be the servile plagiaristic copy of the copy of a 
 nature which is not ours, but one infinitely inferior ? 
 
 Having spoken out what I think on the subject 
 of academies and societies for the promotion of art, 
 on originality, and on artistic independence; I am 
 the'fi]-st to recognise that it would be a mistake to 
 consider them as isolated facts. They are products 
 of the conditions of our modern world, and no pos- 
 sible reasoning can alter them. The fine arts will 
 continue to be protected for a long time, as the bear 
 in the fable protected the man against the flies; 
 
OTJK FATHERS DID SO ! 393 
 
 the artists in fashion will still be copied, and even 
 counterfeited, as is done in the case of medals, 
 armour, and other ancient curiosities ; painters will 
 persevere in obeying the public in the caprices of 
 its bad taste, instead of teaching and leading it to 
 the beautiful, the true, and the good. The race of 
 superfluous artists wiU still be propagated by en- 
 couragement societies; I shall continue to pay my 
 annual quota towards their maintenance, and in the 
 end I shall share the fate of aU preachers. In this 
 case the obstacle does not consist in want of under- 
 standing ; everybody, on the contrary (I mean those 
 who have a grain of sense and a slight knowledge of 
 the question), are of the same opinion, but it lies in 
 the strength of inertia. Habit rules half the world; 
 " My father did so before me," is still, even in the 
 present era of revolutions, one of the great forces 
 which lead the world ! 
 
 Perhaps it is just as well; for otherwise our 
 planet would revolve in too great a hurry. 
 
 I return to Castel Sant' Elia. We had come to 
 see Verstappen draw from natm'e. WUl you believe 
 me? — we never succeeded in surprising a single 
 stroke of his pencil ; nay, I might almost say, in 
 seeino- him. We went to his house in the evening ; 
 but almost always he was already in bed. Like true 
 youngsters, we were fond of noise ; we played the 
 
394 MY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 guitar, and danced the saltarello, — a dance of the 
 Roman Campagna, first cousin to the tarantella. 
 Imagine if poor Martin did not wish us a hundred 
 miles off! His house, however, was not our only 
 refuge. After a short time, the inhabitants of Castel 
 Sant' Elia had learnt to look upon us as harmless 
 fellows, who even spent a little money in the village. 
 The house of the principal family of the place, the 
 Saettas, was opened to us. It was composed of two 
 brothers, — the elder a married man, the younger a 
 priest. They first bowed to us, then bowed and 
 touched their hats, then touched their hats and 
 smiled ; a few polite words came next, and at last 
 we were admitted into the house. 
 
 I had volunteered to play the organ on Sundays ; 
 this also brought me into contact with the curate, 
 for whom I played during High Mass. The good 
 old fellow had once met with rather an uncommon 
 adventure — that of having been shot by the French, 
 twenty years before, on the very day they plundered 
 and slaughtered the inhabitants of the house we lived 
 in. He told us he had been seized and taken out 
 upon the highroad to Nepi, where he was made to 
 kneel down with a batch of wretches. A volley ot 
 musketry was fired upon them; and the gallant 
 soldiers of the Eepublic went away without looking 
 behind them. Although unscathed, he had thrown 
 
A EESTJSOITATION. 395 
 
 himself on the ground, and lay there motionless, 
 among the dead and dying, tiU nightfall. Then he 
 slowly lifted his head, peered about him, and finding 
 everybody gone, took to his heels, and ran through 
 fields and meadows till next morning he once more 
 found himself in his own parsonage. 
 
 At hopae I had a bird's-eye view of the world 
 and society; and now I saw it with the eye of 
 a tortoise, or any other animal which creeps most 
 humbly on the ground. The study of society from 
 this novel point of view interested me very much ; 
 I was amused beyond measure by the majestic and 
 patronising airs of the illustrious Abate Saetta and 
 his brother. I compared their condescension and 
 ■ that which I had elsewhere seen displayed by other 
 classes ; and as my ideas became clearer, I per- 
 ceived by degrees that Vhomme est le mime partout, 
 as my Englishman used to say; that impertinence 
 and vain ostentation, which I had believed a pecu- 
 liarity of aristocracy, were simply inherent in man- 
 •kind ; and I was thus working out from nature 
 many new conclusions about men and their follies, 
 studying them not in books, but in their real and 
 natural selves. 
 
 I always carefully concealed my station in Kfe ; 
 but some unforeseen circumstance, however, never 
 failed to disclose it, to my great disappointment. 
 
396 MT EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 And such was precisely the case at Castel Sant' 
 Elia. 
 
 It must be understood that in central and 
 southern Italy the title of the father is always given 
 by courtesy to all the sons, no matter how many 
 there are. My father being a marquis, I was there- 
 fore a marquis too. One day, having written to ask 
 the Orengos to send me some clothes, they were 
 despatched in a parcel directed to Marquis Massimo 
 cCAzeglio, Nepi; and meanwhile they wrote to teU 
 me where to apply for it. I went in person and 
 presented myself to the vetturino who carried the 
 mails between Nepi and Rome. I had forgotten to 
 dress, and was, as usual, in my shirt-sleeves, with 
 a jacket thrown over my shoulder, and without 
 stockings, on account of the heat. I entered, and 
 said: "Is there a parcel for Azeglio?" — "Yes, but 
 it is for the Marquis." " Well, here I am to fetch 
 it. How much is it?" — "I beg your pardon, but 
 I cannot give it to you; Sor Marchese must come 
 himself and sign the receipt." " But I am the 
 Marquis," said I at last, furious at having to reveal 
 my rank. — " You the Sor Marchese?" It makes me 
 laugh still when I remember the stare of incredulity 
 and contempt my interlocutor bestowed on me when 
 he heard a man with bare legs advance such an im- 
 heard-of piece of presumption. 
 
ALMAVIVA SON 10 ! 397 
 
 I forget what proofs I had to give of my identity, 
 or whether I ended by being believed. I recollect 
 though, that I had to parley a long time before I 
 could take my clothes home. When the startling 
 news of the marquisate spread, I found myself at 
 Castel Sant' EHa like Count Almaviva in the last 
 act of the Barhiere : ^'Almaviva son io, non son 
 Lindoro .'" Fortunately, like him, I had arrived at 
 the last act of my country life. It was in July, the 
 malaria was beginning, and it was time to pitch my 
 tent somewhere else. 
 
 My unhappy passion for adventures made me set 
 out for Rome alone on horseback one evening, my 
 carabine slung over my shoulders. I had thirty-two 
 miles to ride, right across the most desolate part of 
 the Roman Campagna. I started with a beautifol 
 moonlight, and in the cool air I thus advanced to- 
 wards Eome, over that undulating plain which, at 
 such an hour, men honm voluntatis only frequent in 
 company ; but, except a caravan of mules, who were 
 feeding near the carts in which the drivers were 
 snoring, I did not meet a living soul ; not even the 
 ghost of an adventure. For this reason I just now 
 spoke of my mihappy passion. For many years I 
 have roamed about alone, more by night than by . 
 day, in places of the worst reputation, and never 
 
398 MY EECOLLEOTIONS. 
 
 met with even a pretext for gaining a little glory- 
 by some sensational narrative. 
 
 Morning dawned as I drew near the Storta, close 
 to the Osteria del Fosso, famous for its hostess, who 
 sat at table with her twenty-two sons, all vigorous 
 and hale; and before midday I made my entrance 
 into Rome. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 KOBSOH AND SON, GREAT NORTHERN PBlNTUfG ■WORKS, 
 FAHCSAS BOAS, S.VT.