“Stern and somewhat aggressive in temperament,” says Mazzini, speaking of Foscolo, “his mind nourished and fortified by severe study, little calculated for laying new foundations, but endowed with mighty faculties for destruction, he effectually overthrew (except for those who bow down kindly before precedents) a whole edifice of errors which barred the way to the study of Dante. In his different writings, especially in his “Discorso sul Testo,” etc., etc., etc., he cleared the ground for a better understanding of the ‘Commedia’ and the poet.”
This estimate of Foscolo’s character was founded entirely on reading and reports, and seeing that the two famous refugees had no personal knowledge of each other—indeed had never met—must be taken as an eulogium rather of the genius than the moral worth of the great writer.
Though doubtless much might be said on this topic, our space and the purpose of this memoir forbid our dwelling at any length on the subject. For Foscolo’s genius as writer and poet, Panizzi—as who would not, even without his shrewd discernment?—ever entertained the profoundest respect; but in a somewhat important qualification, strict adherence to truth, he detected a slight deficiency. However, he made every allowance for this failing in a man of superior endowments, and felt the deepest sympathy with one of so great attainments reduced to such ignoble shifts. It is but too true that Foscolo wrote his famous book, “Discorso sul Testo, etc.,” and other of his last works under the pressure of extreme poverty and in continual dread of his creditors, which rendered his bodily sufferings the more intolerable, and caused him alarm lest want of bread should put a stop to his literary labours.
It is unnecessary to give further details of Foscolo’s life. They were better known to Panizzi than to any one else, and he alone could have narrated the true story of the experiences of his illustrious friend. The biographers of the former have unaccountably and unpardonably neglected to take due cognizance of the intimacy which subsisted between the two.
The first letter, written by Panizzi to Foscolo from Liverpool, and dated 25th February, 1826, is long and most interesting. Herein he recalls to his friend’s memory that it was just thirty months since he laid the foundation of all that the writer possessed, and proceeds in the following grateful strain: “Were it possible for me to forget my own country, I could not certainly forget Liverpool. If the misery of selling articles and verbs were not such as to freeze one’s blood, I might say that I live, yet I only vegetate; even this is due to you.”
Of Foscolo’s “Discorso sul Testo” of Dante, Panizzi always expressed the highest admiration. “Itadmiration. “It would be impossible,” he writes of his friend’s magnum opus, “to describe how much superior your work seems to me, compared with those hitherto made known, not only in Italy, but by any critic elsewhere. Being a great admirer of Dante, in whom I find the greatest comfort of my exile, I paid last month a visit to the Bodleian, where I saw thirteen manuscripts of the ‘Divina Commedia.’ I have ready a minute description of each, which I have written in the shape of a letter, with the intention of sending it to the ‘Antologia,’ a paper more Italian in feeling, and less slavish than the others; but if you would like to see it, I shall most willingly send it to you. I may add that not far from here there is another manuscript of Dante, which, according to Mr. Roscoe, is well worth consulting; I propose seeing it next Easter. Mr. Coke, of Holkham, also possesses other MSS. and has kindly offered to send them to my house, that I may have an opportunity of studying them at leisure.”
The splendid library at Holkham had been, in 1812, carefully examined and catalogued by Mr. Roscoe, who was immensely impressed with its value and importance.
“Such MSS. of Dante,” he writes to a friend, “drawings of the old masters, treasures of European history—you have no idea … besides beautifully illuminated MSS. on vellum of many of the Latin classics, a most exquisite Boccaccio, a very fine old Dante.”
In the catalogue the following note is written by Roscoe: “For a transcript of this very difficult MS. of Boccaccio, by Signor Antonio Panizzi, see the illustrations in Vol. VIII. of this catalogue.”
Next, if not equal in value to the “Discorso sul Testo,” in Panizzi’s estimation, was another work of Foscolo’s. This was “La Commedia di Dante Alighieri illustrata da Ugo Foscolo.” (London: 8vo., 1825). It may be mentioned that the preface to the first vol. of a later edition (1842) of this book, signed “un Italiano,” was written by Mazzini. Panizzi reviewed “La Commedia” (it was his first attempt at criticism in the English language) in the Westminster Review (vol. 7, p. 153).
This will amply repay perusal. The sincerity of the writer’s patriotism, and the manner in which it serves to enhance his interest in the great poet of his native country, will probably attract the reader’s attention at the outset. The philological contest in which Dante was engaged—his conclusions (set forth in his “De Vulgari Eloquio”), on the true origin of the Italian language, by which he so much disgusted his Florentine compatriots—his own life and greater works—the relations of the different powers by whose influence Italy was chiefly affected—the spiritual in jeopardy of its existence in its own home, and externally the temporal, on which it mainly relied for support—are all brought under notice, and skilfully treated.
Reference has been made to the “Westminster Review,” and as that periodical is easily accessible it is unnecessary to destroy the reader’s interest by extracting from the article in question.
Meanwhile Foscolo still continued his correspondence with Panizzi, furnishing him with details of his troubles. Serious differences seem to have arisen between him and Mr. Pickering, the publisher of his projected works, whose treatment of him he describes as shameful. Neither is Mr. Brougham spared; Foscolo had employed him to heal the breach between Mr. Pickering and himself; and these are the terms in which he mentions the services rendered:—“Brougham, at first, offered to take the matter to heart, but allowed it to drop, because I have no money to carry on the suit. He has acted as a lawyer, and wisely too; I shall also act wisely by having nothing more to do with him.”
It is somewhat difficult to discover from these words the exact part Brougham took in the matter. To substantiate the charges brought by Foscolo against men of acknowledged worth is against our inclination, nor have we the opportunity of clearly knowing their nature. In writing a memoir of Panizzi it is but just to remark that, so far as the worthy publisher is concerned, he entertained the highest opinion of Pickering up to the last, as a man of taste, of great knowledge, and of indisputable private worth. These accusations, in all probability without foundation, possibly created in their recipient’s mind his before-mentioned suspicion of his friend’s entire trustworthiness, a suspicion he almost publicly divulged in 1871, when Foscolo’s remains were about to be removed from Chiswick to a more honourable grave in Santa Croce, Florence.
In the summer of the year 1826, Foscolo reached the lowest depth of his poverty. Persecuted on all sides by his creditors, he hid, or rather, as he wrote, buried himself alive. “I send you my new address, you are the only person who will be acquainted with it, 19, Henrietta-street, Brunswick-square, let nobody know it, now or ever, and if in town, I can offer you a bed, and thus prevent your portmanteau from being ransacked by some London hotel-keeper.” At this period (painful to relate), he evidently meditated suicide. “The virile act of voluntary death becomes dreadful, when committed through poverty. I must, in order to proceed with my work, take care of myself; and have imitated you, in finding a few humble families, to whom I give lessons at three shillings